Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ This I Promise You ❯ Obsession ( Chapter 9 )

This I Promise You

Prequel to: Because of You

Written by: Chocho

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation

Story summary: Everybody assured him Rinjin Yasashii was just another obsessed fan with a crush and that there was nothing to worry about. Little did they know how wrong they all were.

Chapter summary: Damn that man! How could Shindou-sama be with such a bastard as cold as him? Doesn't he know that I can take care of him better than he ever could?

Warnings: M-preg, explicit sex, language, violence, angst

Key: [Blah] or Blah blah blah: flashback/dream

BLAH or Blah: stressed words

*: change in POV or time

 

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Chapter 9: Obsession

 

 

Restlessly, Yasashii paced his apartment. He walked from the front door through the living room, down the hall past the bedrooms and bathroom and into the kitchen where he rounded the table and walked back down the hall to the living room. He spun on his heel and re-walked the path. By now, he had worn a groove into the hardwood floors.

 

Growling, he glanced at his watch for what seemed like the zillionth time in just the past five minutes.

 

He did not understand! It was nearing two o'clock and his Shu-han had yet to leave for work! The band was supposed to have had a meeting at seven this morning to go over the art work for the cover of their new album. After that, there were still a few songs that needed the kinks worked out.

 

Forever Yours was a double CD. The first disk contained Bad Luck's greatest hits, going back to their debut album. The second disk contained cover songs from various artists from all over the world. There were several live bonus tracks from various live performances over the years, several included duets with Nittle Grasper among others. There was also an extra special bonus track of the original version of “Rage Beat” recorded from the Club House with a special appearance by Ryuichi Sakuma.

 

So, why had his angelic singer not left? Was he sick?

 

Yasashii stilled, a horrified expression on his face. “Dear Kami,” he whispered. His lithe, graceful singer who looks like angel when he is sleeping, a sex kitten on stage- even though he does dress like a slut- and a god no matter what was sick! Maybe even dying! Dying! No! That cannot be happening! They just found each other! How can the gods conspire to work against them like this?

 

The man found himself at the front door of his apartment before he realized what he was doing. It took everything he had to keep from racing down that hall and flinging himself at the singer.

 

That was what he should be doing, though. It was obvious that perverted monster was not taking care of Shuichi! Why? Because that damned womanizing romance author did not care about Shuichi Shindou! No, all that bastard wanted was a hole to fuck and Shuichi was just a convenience!

 

The thought of that monster taking advantage of such a sweet guy sent a surge of rage through Yasashii. His hands became balls of fury. His teeth ground together hard enough to chip a tooth.

 

That was the last straw!

 

Anger blinded him. He reached for the door and flung it open. He started to march out into the hallway but the sight of a dark suited foreigner gave him pause. His fury drained away. Stepping back into his apartment, Yasashii closed the door, peering out at the Shindou-Uesugi apartment through a crack.

 

The man was Shuichi's bodyguard. An American, if he was remembering correctly. His name was Joshua, or Jeremy or something stupid like that. Truthfully, he looked more like a Butch, or a Frank or something with a little more punch. The bodyguard had graying light brown hair, but physically he looked as strong as five oxen. He was as wide and as tall as the door he was standing in front of. His stance was that of a typical bodyguard clichéd in every television show, movie and book. His feet were a shoulder's width apart and his hands were clasped in front of him, one hand holding the wrist of the other. The guy had been hired to guard the lead singer of Bad Luck after an “overly enthusiastic” fan somehow managed to sneak into the showers after one of their concerts. The guy tried to seduce Shuichi but when his advances were shot down, the man attacked him. After that, Shuichi never went anywhere without at least one bodyguard. The guard has protected the hyper singer from fans and fanatic lunatics for years, keeping the man safe but the damned foreigner has also kept Yasashii from the singer as well, making it impossible to expression his true feelings for the man properly. The nerve of the jerk! Did he not know who he was?

 

Yasashii felt his anger take hold of him once more.

 

He had to see Shuichi! He had to! No matter what!

 

Once more, he grabbed the doorknob but this time the familiar a cappella dulcet tones of his future lover rang through his silent apartment. Sighing in frustration, he snatched his phone from his belt. A familiar number showed on the screen. Even angrier now, Yasashii flipped the phone open and snapped, “What?”

 

“Bloody hell, Yasa. Bite my head off why don't ya,” came the voice over the line.

 

“What do you want, Niwa,” Yasashii snapped.

 

Niwa Kakei-san, in his pea soup jumpsuit, pushed the broom across the floor in the waiting area by the front lobby of NG Pro. In order to call Yasashii for an update, he had been forced to take out the earphone that was connected to the small boxlike transmitter in his pocket. The transmitter allowed him to hear what was going on inside the studio upstairs, all thanks to the bug. Unfortunately, the listening device had conked out yesterday. Thankfully, a quick change of batteries was all it took to get the bug up and running again.

 

“Just wanted to check in,” Niwa answered with a blink. What was Yasashii so mad about?

 

“That's it? You bothered me just to `check in'?”

 

Niwa blinked at the man's tone. “Hey, just doing what you pay me for.”

 

Yasashii growled. “I pay you to keep me informed with what's going on! And so far, you haven't been doing your job!”

 

“That's because nothing's going on!”

 

Yasashii was the one startled at Niwa's tone this time. Sighing, he felt his anger dwindle. He walked to the wide bay window and stared out over Tokyo. “Okay, tell me what is going on.”

 

“Nothing much, just a lot of yelling. Apparently,” Niwa sighed, “Shindou-san-”

 

“-didn't come into work today. I know. I know,” Yasashii finished in a rush. He walked to the door and peered out. The bodyguard had not moved an inch. “I live next door to the guy, remember?”

 

“Oh, yeah.”

 

Niwa-san had forgotten. How he could have was beyond him. The guy was totally obsessed with the singer. The extra bedroom was a shrine to the lithe god. It was filled with all kinds of memorabilia from key chains, dolls, clothing from the singer's own Ichigo clothing line and clothes Shuichi himself had worn. He had every single magazine, book, newspaper and tabloid paper that featured Shindou Shuichi in any form. Every radio and television appearance was recorded and stacked on several bookcases. There were boxes of photo albums filled with concert stubs, backstage passes and autographs. He had every CD and single ever released, legal and bootlegged, from all over the world. There were official Bad Luck clothing- shirts, pants, socks, et cetera- and accessories of every imaginable type in that room. The man had even somehow collected locks of the singer's hair that he kept in a shoe box. He also had a habit of going garbage picking, where he found broken and discarded jewelry and other things from the famous front man. If it had the name Bad Luck on it, or had been touched or breathed on or in the very presence of Shindou Shuichi, Rinjin Yasashii had it.

 

The only thing the man did not have was the singer himself. That was where Niwa came in. The two men had known one another since high school. When Niwa became financially strapped, Yasashii made him an offer he could not refuse. Get a job at NG and plant a few listening devices. Yasashii wanted to bug the singer's home but because the singer's lover worked from home, it was practically impossible. Then Yasashii became fortunate enough to rent the apartment right next door to the singer, so the mechanical device was no longer necessary, though there were times when the guy wished he had.

 

At first, Yasashii's obsession had just been a normal infatuation, a man with a crush on an entertainer, but then the shrine developed, the listening devices were planted in order to help the man “accidentally bump” into the singer and then there was the photographer.

 

Yes, Yasashii had even hired a freelance photographer to follow Shuichi. This guy- Niwa had never met him- was somehow able to get pictures of the singer that would make every tabloid newspaper drool with envy and every porn magazine whipping out their checkbooks.

 

Niwa was beginning to regret accepting this job. This little “infatuation” was getting out of hand but he could do nothing. He was in it too deep now. What was that saying? No use crying over split milk.

 

“Shuichi-sama hasn't left his apartment all day,” Yasashii was saying.

 

Niwa nodded. He replaced his broom in the cart and swept the small pile of debris into the dust pan, disposing of the garbage. “Nakano, Sakano and Fujisaki-san were, well, livid to say the least, but since they're used to Shindou-san being late, they gave him a few hours.”

 

“Yeah,” Yasashii prodded.

 

“By ten, he still hadn't shown up, so Nakano-san called.” Niwa shook his head. “They called him for over an hour, but Shindou-san didn't pick up his phone and nobody answered at the apartment.”

 

Yasashii frowned. He could not remember hearing the phone ring next door. He wondered why. Was it possible that they had turned off the ringers? But why would they? What was going on over there?

 

“That got them a little worried, ya know?” Niwa continued, bringing Yasashii out of his thoughts.

 

“Understandable,” Yasashii agreed with a nod. “You expect someone at a certain time and when they do not show and do not answer the phone…”

 

“Well, Nakano-san over to see what was going on, if they were at home, or…”

 

“They” referred to both the singer and his damned writer lover, Yasashii knew. Just the thought of that whore Shu-han called his “soul mate” sent a resurge of anger through the man.

 

But then what his old friend said hit him. “He was here? When?”

 

“Uh…” Niwa scrunched his head in thought. “About eleven, eleven-thirty.”

 

That would explain it. The stupid building's landlord called him to ask if he would let the meter guy into the basement and of course being the “gentle neighbor” that he was complied all too readily.

 

“Well, I guess when he noticed Shindou-san's bodyguard outside the apartment,” Niwa was saying, “he became furious! I'm not sure what happened exactly, but Nakano-san returned to the studio pretty pissed off. They're not exactly happy with Shindou-san right now.”

 

“Um…” That made Yasashii think. What was going on over there and could he use it to his advantage?

 

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