Don't own Gravitation, do own this fic! Slight language warning.
"Get out, and take your awful music with you," grumbled Yuki half-heartedly. Shuichi tried to look sad and hurt, but he knew that this wasn't real. This was only because his lover had a massive deadline hanging over him. In three days, maybe, Shuichi would come back home and they would mumble their "sorry's" and all would be right in their world once more.
The door slammed in his face. "Yuki," Shuichi half sobbed hitting the door with little passion. This was just a formality now. It was like a dance. He would do one thing that tipped Eiri over the edge and he would be accosted and thrown out the door. Clothes would follow shortly after. From the amount, Shuichi could divine how many days he would have to find temporary residence.
After a bit of a struggle, he would go off to Hiro's apartment. Once there, he would cry a little, make his case, and, essentially, get over it. The rest of the time would be spent at work or doing some fun thing with his best friend. The last time they had gone mini-golfing.
After a final "Go away!" from inside the house, Shuichi picked up his clothes and opened the door. Eiri's anger flared, as Shuichi walked in and grabbed his backpack off the coat rack. "You're getting sloppy. Usually you throw out the bag or at least lock the door before I can come get it." His lover shrugged and stalked to his study and slammed that door. Shuichi stuffed his clothes in the bag and left, slamming the door.
"I pity these poor doors," he muttered as he swung his bag over his shoulder and started down the road. As he walked, the familiar feelings of doubt, being unloved, and depression filled him. He knew better than to struggle against it this time. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would be done with his pathetic sobbing even before he got to his friend's house.
With each step, the heavy on his heart grew. "He hates me. But this is only temporary. But what if it isn't this time. What if Yuki was serious, he never wanted to see me again and wanted me to leave him alone forever! That's impossible though, he needs me. But he doesn't really, he's tough. He's only with me because I'm fun and I don't care that he's famous and rich. He's taking advantage of my loving him!"
Anger strode onto the scene and Shuichi's tread became fiery and heavy. The small bit of logic that was locked away in the back corner of his mind, miniaturized by over powering emotions, told him that this was all nonsense and that it had happened hundreds of time before, so why should it be different this time.
That only managed to fuel his grief. "Why shouldn't it be different this time!" he shouted, putting on a hat as he neared a busy street. Today was not a day to be chased by rabid fans.
Hiro's place was only a few blocks away, but it seemed that he wouldn't manage to be over his fit before he got there. "He hates me. Yuki wants me dead!" he thought, "I may as well be dead. There's nothing I can do for him I'm worthless. I have nothing to offer him. I'm only a grievance. He's probably hiring the yakuza to pick me off right now. Look, that person in black!" he suspiciously eyed a black clad punk boy walking down the street. The punk returned the glare of ice and passed by.
"Okay, so maybe he wasn't the one that wanted to kill me. Maybe he was the one that's going to be tailing me until they work out my patterns and can catch me off guard and make it look like an accident. I know, I'll just vary the way I got to work everyday, and the times I get out and-" He stopped. The flow of people continued around him as if he were just a stone, or random lamppost. "I'm being ridiculous," he whispered, "again." An afterthought.
Dragging the blaze orange sleeve of his sweatshirt across his eyes, and taking a deep breath, he continued. Yuki may not want him dead, but that didn't necessarily mean that the love was gone. He knew that that thought was ridiculous as well, but it was just one of the motions. It was a critical part in his day. He had to cry a river in order to build a bridge and get over it!
So he cried a few more pathetic tears and geared his thoughts to a more happy, and reasonable, outlook. He still felt hurt and abandoned by the time he got to Hiro's apartment, but it was starting to get better. He would really know everything was all right when his friend, in that dry tone he used because he had given the speech so many times, said:
"It's all going to be okay Shuichi. He may not say it, or seem like he means it at all, but Yuki san really loves you and he needs you. You may be the only person that can let go of all his past and love him for him. Not many people are tough enough to love a cold, distant person with tons of issues."
Then Hiro would poke Shu's nose, smile and get something for them to eat. Sadly enough, Shuichi almost looked forward to it. That was why he was crushed when he rang the buzzer.
"Hiro!" he sobbed, "Yu- Yuki kicked me out again." he sniffled and let go of the button and waited for a response. Usually one came saying something like, "The door's open; come on in." or "Are you okay? If you need to stay for a few days you can."
This time, no response came. "Hiro?" he whined into the buzzer, "Hiro!?" he sighed and buzzed the superintendent. "Hello, this is Nakano's friend, Shindou, could you tell me where he is?"
"Nakano is out with that dark haired monk guy for the weekend. He said that if you were to come by to tell you to ask someone from work for a place to stay."
"Oh, thank you." Shuichi said and heaved a sigh. Curse Hiro and his romantic weekends.
Who was he going to ask from the studio? He could hardly ask Suguru; that would just give the boy a cocky attitude and send him on another "It-would-be-so-much-better-for-the-band-if-you-weren't-with-Yuki-san tangent." Shuichi could hardly handle that. Then there was K. He had gotten used to the gun crazy foreigner, but not enough to stay a few nights with him without fearing for his life. Besides, he would probably make fun of the lovers' quarrel and that would hardly be beneficial for Shuichi's self-esteem. He weighed the possibility of staying with Sakano. It seemed reasonable, except that Sakano tended to be over emotional and would probably be breathing down his neck for lyrics instead of telling him that it would all be okay and Yuki would take him back soon.
Who else could he stay with? Not the president. Staying with Seguchi had bad idea and accidental death written all over it. "Crazy fruitcake," he muttered and turned down the road to the studio. What about Noriko? She was nice, but he would feel like he was intruding on her family. Not her.
Ryuichi? No, he couldn't do that. He wasn't worthy to stay with someone so amazing. He would be scum in the apartment of a god. Shuichi sighed as he looked back at the amazing man's career. Hit songs, TV, magazines, his face plastered everywhere and advertised as the king of synth pop. Then he looked at himself. Sure his group was getting pretty good. They had opened for the astounding Nittle Grasper, but they weren't Nittle Grasper. They never would be.
The young singer kicked a piece of trash on the sidewalk. Now was no time to get all depressed at his lack of talent? That was another thing Hiro would have done; tell him that he was great, that he would surpass Ryuichi one day. "Curse you Hiro. Sentimental freak!"
He pushed open the large, impeccably clean glass door to the N-G building. Shuichi had no idea what he was going to do. He had already ruled out staying with anyone here and he had an hour before work started. Maybe he could get a hotel room. There wouldn't be anyone to talk to though. Perhaps he could call one of those phone shrinks or something. No, that would be absolutely pathetic. Not even he would resort to that-- unless he really needed to.
"Good evening Shindou san!" Chirped the lobby secretary as she looked up from her computer screen. Shuichi pasted on a cheerful face and made to respond, but found the woman already back at work. He let the look disintegrate and continued through the lobby.
Would K and Sakano even be here? Pressing the button marked up, he waited for an elevator. It was an hour early so they would hardly expect him, but they must have something to do when the musicians weren't around.
Joyfully the elevator binged, and the doors rattled open. Businessmen clambered out as he clambered in. He pressed the button marked five and the elevator waited a few seconds before closing the door. No one else came in. Good, he wouldn't have to fake happiness again. At least around people he knew he didn't have to be a cheery emblem of carefree youth, he could be as sullen as he wanted and not care if they got fed up with him. It didn't matter what they thought, they knew the happy Shuichi too, but those strangers, all they would see is a miserable kid and either ask "what's wrong" or write him off as clinically depressed.
The ride up only took about thirty seconds. The mechanical room gave another happy bing and the doors opened to reveal an empty hallway, as usual. People here were troglodytes, never emerging from their little cave like studios unless they had too. The only place you were likely to see someone besides their office, would be a lounge. There was one on every floor.
That was where Shuichi was heading. His manager and/or producer might be there. Why this particular lounge? Because this was the floor where studio's 1-4 were, and they usually had studio 2. The first four floors of the building were office space, and conference rooms that varied in size.
Poking his head around the jamb of the lounge door, he saw no one he was interested in. Only some poor manager trying to sedate his boy band charges. He was having a hard time of it. Maybe- "Hey," Shuichi stepped in, he knew that he had a little weight around here he could throw, "You guys should be good to your manager. You have no clue what hell he goes through working to get you guys to the top."
The kids stopped their bickering and looked in awe at Shuichi. They muttered something about Bad Luck and becoming famous, but otherwise just stood around shocked. Shuichi went over to the coffee machine and grabbed a cup. He had no intention of drinking the stuff, gods knew he already had enough energy; he just wanted to look like he had come with a purpose.
As he turned to leave, the poor manager thanked him profusely, Shuichi just nodded. As soon as he was out the door, he heard the guy go into his spiel of the day. Sighing, he knew that soon enough, he would be hearing the same kind of thing from K.
Setting the coffee down in a table on the hall, regretting the waste, he peeped into Studio 2. No one was there and the lights were off. Maybe they would be in Sakano's little office that was barely big enough for three people to fit in.
Heading back to the elevator he considered just how odd it was that the office for Bad Luck was two floors up from their usual recording studio. It was either the bizarre workings of the company or just an available space that had determined it. He couldn't decide what it was.
Stepping out into another empty hall on floor seven, he noticed a studio door open. Studio 10. That was where Nittle Grasper usually recorded. He avoided that room. Peeking down the other side of the hall, he looked for an open office door. None. Maybe they were working with the door closed for some reason. Maybe it was secret business. Maybe K was on the phone to America. He was part of one of the intelligence things from that country right? Maybe he was reporting home. Maybe they would pull him out of the country.
Shuichi snickered, then whacked himself upside the head. That was an awful thing to think, especially after what he had just said to those boy band jerks. K had done a lot for them, getting them the Hit Stage gig, the cooking show (Shuichi shivered) and he knew that there was more to come.
Pushing open the door, it revealed a dark, empty room. Maybe Sakano was hyperventilating under the desk again. He flipped on the lights and bent to check. Nope, no terrified producer. Just a computer, extra chair and bulletin board with paper all over it.
Shuichi regarded the papers, seeing all the numbers and lists that somehow K could translate into a sales record. He shook his head brushed at the papers as he turned to leave. Closing the door and flicking off the lights, he made the bold decision to go see what the number one band in all Japan was doing-- besides making him feel miserable.
Walking towards the door, sounds came to him. The overpowering beauty of dual synthesizers and the silken honey of a singer's voice. Only one voice was like that, only one voice was that powerful, glorious, radiant, handsome. Looking in through the door, a fierce Sakuma san was singing, moving, and breathing the music. He looked so concentrated and enraptured. It was like he wasn't aware of anything else around him. It was only he and the notes and sounds.
That intensity was another thing Shuichi didn't have. He couldn't command someone's attention and completely warp their emotions. He didn't have what it took to sell out an entire stadium. Hiro and Suguru were great; he knew that, it was just him that was holding them back. Maybe if they found a better singer. He mentally slapped himself.
That was crap. He knew that he was the only singer for Bad Luck. He had gone through the self-doubt before and come through it. With time, but he had come through. He didn't have the time now though, so he couldn't even lapse back into that jealous, childish stupor. No, not this time.
He walked into the room where a sound technician was fiddling with the knobs on the mixing board. Each button was pressed with the utmost care. He knew that he was in control of preserving this song as it was meant to be. If he messed up, he knew that the repercussions of his mistake would fall back on him times ten. Shuichi pitied the man.
A blonde, standing in the corner, hands in his pockets, caught Shuichi's eyes. So, K was here. As was Sakano, he was sitting in a chair watching the band. Although their backs were to him, Shuichi could tell just from the way that they held themselves that they were blown away-- again.
Ryuichi was amazing. He always seemed to have something new up his sleeve. Some new voice trick, some new way to harmonize with the chords that amped up the entire song. He was a genius. Not only did he know singing, but also he knew how to sing with the instruments.
Shuichi looked at Bad Luck. Guitar and synth and vocals were still pretty separate things. It was his job to bring them together. He had to be the binding force in the group, but he was still yet to reach that level, if at all.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he felt the envy rise. He tried to push it down, but failed in the halfhearted attempt. Ok, he accepted it, he was a little jealous, but that just meant that he had to work a little harder. So what if he had a little extra to do. It was for the good of the group. But maybe he didn't have so much to do.
Depression floated on the jealousy. Maybe he just didn't have it. He would never be as good as Ryuichi. He looked back on the times he had sung with the king of synth pop. Every time Sakuma had lowered his level to match with Shuichi. Every time, Ryuichi gave up a little bit of his own splendor so that he didn't take away from Shuichi's pathetic talent.
He had probably done this with the best intentions, and probably didn't realize that once he was found out it wouldn't help Shuichi, but just send him on a downward spiral. Now, as he watched Ryuichi, giving it his all, his one hundred ten percent, he noted just how much he had quelled his talent. Shu saw the difference and summed up how far he still had to go.
It was going to be like climbing Everest with no arms and no legs.
He couldn't help a little whimper as the song ended along with the thought process from the pits of despair. K looked back and smiled. Shuichi gave a withered little upturn of the lips in return.
"That was amazing!" Exclaimed the guy on the soundboard. Ryuichi grinned and laughed, "Come on, that's what you said about the first three tries."
Shuichi's heart fell. That was after three tries? His voice would be shot after three sessions that intense. He groaned and shook his head, forgetting that K was watching.
"So," the manager said, calling attention back, "why are you here so early? Wanted to catch the session?"
"No, I just thought that I could get some extra something done. Maybe start a new song or something."
"That's nice. So when did he kick you out?" Shuichi began to retort when Sakuma came out of the booth. "Hey! Shuichi!" Shuichi donned his I-swear-I'm-not-gonna-scream smile and waved meekly. "That was pretty cool huh?" the wide-eyed singer asked. K agreed heartily and Shu gave a squeaky "Yeah," through clenched teeth.
"So," K turned back to him, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing!" Shuichi said defensively. Ryuichi looked from the blonde man to the pink haired boy, confusion seasoned with slight concern graced his eyes. "What is it? You OK Shu chan?"
"He'll be fine. Yuki just kicked him out again and Hiro's gone for the weekend so he's looking for a place to stay."
"I'm going to rent a room," Shuichi muttered.
"Hey, I'm sorry. Yuki san will come back to his senses though, and see what a great guy you are and how much he's missing. And if you don't want to spend all that time alone in the hotel you can stay with me! We can have a really fun sleepover, it'll be great," enthusiasm gushed from the singer's voice.
Putting on his happy face and digging his fingernails into his palms, Shuichi tried to gracefully deny. "Thank you, but I will be alright at a hotel. Thank you," he struggled to keep his voice steady. The last thing he would want to do is spend a weekend with a constant reminder at how worthless he was in the face of music. Worthless as a singer, worthless as a lyricist; maybe they should just hire someone for that too, and he should just start lip-syncing to someone that was better than him.
"Oh," disappointment haunted Ryuichi's voice and snapped Shuichi out of his latest rambling. "Sorry," Shuichi muttered as his god walked away. "Great," he thought, "now he probably hates me--again." He dragged his fearful, saddened, envious eyes away from the awe-inspiring man.
K watched him intently. Taking in his body posture and reading his face then adding it all together and analyzing what was going on inside the boy. "Hey," he said, "If you're here, we may as well get started going over some stuff. I have something I need to talk with you about anyway." Shuichi cringed. "Sakano, we'll be down in the studio." The wired man looked up from his conversation with Seguchi and nodded. "Come on," K said in a way that filled Shuichi with dread.
They walked silently to the elevator. The happy little noise it made seemed to mock him as they walked in. It was only the two of them. Shuichi felt his breathing become irregular. They were going to replace him, weren't they? They were firing him. They never wanted to see his face around the studio again. Maybe they were the ones sending the yakuza after him.
"I told you that there were no heroes anymore," K said, disrupting his terrified train of thought.
"What?" Shuichi blinked up at the man.
"You're pissed aren't you? That you're not at his level."
Shuichi couldn't say anything.
"You don't know him at all. You don't know that he was that strange, gangly kid that sat in the back row in class and wrote songs while the teacher preached. He was the quiet one that read the dictionary over lunch because he loved words. He loved music too. He studied it; dissected everything from traditional Japanese to hard rock.
"The reason he gets so "scary" when he sings, is because he's giving it his all. He takes every single note seriously and concentrates on it. He feels that he owes that to music. It saved his life."
"What?" asked Shuichi confused and numb at the new information. K took a deep breath and began to delve into the astounding signer's past.
A/N: There's the first chapter. There are only two. If you want to know about Ryuichi's past check out Darklore Wings' story Memories Can't be Forgotten. That's kinda what I based his past here on, even though I'm vague about it. Arigato to Darklore Wings and Happy Utena-Loving Yuki for beta reading for me.