"I… can't even tell you those three words you want to hear, Shuichi…" Yuki whispered to the sleeping singer's ear.
The blonde, twenty-something novelist sat on the edge of the bed, his lips nearly grazing the cheek of a well known pink-haired vocalist. This had been one of the hardest decisions he had had to made, but it had to be done. It will break hearts, hurt feelings, probably even shed blood, but hopefully, this was also for the best.
He looked around the room once again, feeling a sense of familiarity but at the same time, a sense of being foreign. Once he's done this, will he still have the memory of this room imprinted in his mind?
But that wasn't very important at the moment.
He looked at Shuichi again. This moment is for telling the brat the truth, even though he may not hear it.
"I might never be able to tell you I love you… even when I believe that I do, even when everything else around me and everything in me says so, I still might not be able to tell it to you…I will always have doubts… about me, even about you. I won't ask you to forgive me, that's too much, but I… wish you the best, brat…"
He stood up, the bed creaking at the lost of his weight on it.
He picked up his bag, took one last look at the room, at Shuichi, and proceeded to the door.
They might never; they SHOULD never see each other again…
Yuki opened his eyes.
That was a memory from last year, but it played in his mind so vividly it might as well have happened yesterday.
The novelist looked to his right, where a Tohma Seguchi sat, one leg over the other and arms crossed on his chest.
Why was he here again? After swearing he would never set foot on Japanese ground again, why was he here again? And in a freakin' asylum too.
Oh yeah. Because a somebody, a brother-in-law somebody, said that he needs, with the emphasis on needs, to go back to Japan as soon as possible.
Damn it. And Yuki thought he had covered his tracks fairly well. How Tohma managed to locate him after he had paid a good fortune on that damn agency that was supposed to hide him was beyond him.
"Why are we here, Seguchi?" he asked, the tone of his voice still remained cold.
"Something happened when you left, Eiri-san and it's about-"
But the keyboardist never really got to finish his sentence because right then, a nurse approached them and bowed.
After the formalities, Yuki felt her gaze on him and initially thought that she must be another fan. But when he looked at her, there was only slight surprise, and a feeling that made Yuki felt like the biggest ass in the world. Why had she that look in her eyes made him curious, but more than that, made something in his chest tighten.
The nurse whispered something to Seguchi before beckoning them to follow her.
Yuki wanted to ask, but at the moment it seemed inappropriate.
The silence in the asylum echoed all around him, inside him, ringing inhuman sounds in his head and playing with his cursed writer's mind.
The hallway was as quiet as a graveyard. Yuki had a myriad of questions in him, but somehow, lacking the courage to ask any of them.
The answers, as he was now quite certain, would reveal something he did not want to know.
The nurse had stopped on her tracks, so did Tohma.
The moment is lurking closer.
For a brief second, Yuki wondered if this was a joke, or a dream of some sort. Maybe this was even a prank to get him back to Japan and that somehow, a twisted mind decided to have a welcoming party here.
But the air was heavy, and the atmosphere of mystery as well as lurking feeling of dread carried on in the air.
This couldn't possibly be a dream.
The nurse had whispered something to Tohma and Yuki barely heard fragments of her statement, such as 'nothing's changed' and 'he doesn't respond'.
Yuki took his time to look around him, and nearly flinched at the sight.
Patients, some accompanied by nurses, some alone, some with other patients were all around him. Some were drooling, some were playing, some were looking hazed and with an insane smile.
He vaguely wondered if he should ever write something with an asylum, and nearly laughed at the idea of writing about crazy people. Nearly.
His eyes drifted to where he wished they never did. The sight enough to pull down whatever was left of human heart.
"Eiri-" Tohma's calling startled him out, "when you left, something happened to-"
But Yuki never heard the rest of the sentence. His eyes, his full attention, were suddenly diverted to an achingly familiar form sitting under a tree far behind his brother-in-law.
The said form, it seemed, had changed in so many ways.
The vibrant hair was now back to black, dull, long and tied in a rather neat ponytail.
The once small but fit body now seemed thinner, looking weak, fragile and pale under the gentle sunlight.
Legs hugged loosely to his chest, back against a huge tree, the form seem to be staring at nothing at all.
Eyes which used to be full of life, full of emotions, transparent and vibrant, now were empty and dead.
He couldn't believe, he absolutely refused to believe, that that was Shuichi.
Another form was kneeling right in front of the former singer. Another familiar face, and one he knew would always be there for the brat.
Nakano.
Nakano shifted, seeing that the unresponsive singer refused to accept his offering of pocky, and decided that all was done for today. He might as well just try again tomorrow.
Yuki's heart thumped wildly in his chest at the sight of Nakano coming closer. The former guitarist had yet to acknowledge his presence, but he could already tell something was going to happen. Sparks will fly.
Nakano's gaze finally caught him, and for a moment there was a brief expression of surprise. A flash of rage followed, and his lips curled and pressed until it seemed like a thin line.
But the expression disappeared as quickly as it came.
The rawness of the new expression made the guilt within Yuki grow in an unbelievable speed.
Nakano seem to have made no effort to hide them; the glazed eyes, the wrinkling brows, the gritting teeth. But he never did stop walking. He just continued until he was almost at reaching distance from Yuki.
The redhead looked at Tohma, not even bothering to say a word.
But that wasn't very unusual, for at the moment, nobody dared to say a word. They seemed more like hindrances now.
The blonde and the redhead met with their eyes again.
Yuki was having a hard time keeping his face impassive, for right then, he wanted answers. He didn't exactly have the right questions, but he damn wished someone knew what to tell him.
Nakano tore his gaze away and proceeded to walk right pass Yuki.
The blonde didn't know what to do, but decided that just standing there and looking at Shuichi wouldn't get him anywhere. He might as well chase the guitarist and get things straight.
Yuki would've called on the redhead to wait, but that wasn't his style. Besides, he thought Nakano would most probably have a good guard and probably knows he's being followed by now.
By the time the guitarist stopped walking, they were in front of a very secluded restaurant. Yuki took time in looking around, and the only people he saw were an old lady by the counter petting her cat, probably the owner, and an old couple on a table by the farther side of the place.
Nakano sat down, and Yuki immediately sat down at the opposite side of the table.
For a while, nobody said a word. Yuki would've said something, asked anything, but quickly realized that, as much as he hated to admit it, he was actually having a hard time mustering the courage to do so.
He could feel the red head's eyes on him, and had wanted to look back, but something in him, probably shame, wouldn't let him.
Finally realizing that sitting there without saying anything was as good as shit, Yuki decided to speak.
He sighed and looked at the impassive guitarist, "aren't you going to yell at me? Blame me? Tell me I'm such a bastard?" the words rushed out even before he had time to actually think of them.
For a moment, there was no reaction from Nakano, which was making the situation feel worse for the blonde novelist.
Then, as Yuki didn't quite expect, Nakano smiled. It wasn't a vibrant, cheerful smile, it was rather poignant actually, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
"I…" Nakano leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and place his head on the back of his hands, "I don't know what to do anymore, Yuki-san." He answered slowly, keeping his gaze on anything except Yuki's eyes. "I hate you to the core, but I don't have the strength nor the will to try to beat you or even to just bicker. I'm tired of always blaming you for what's happening to Shuichi, I'm tired of telling him to forget you and find somebody else who deserves him – he never listens anyway… I'm just tired of you…"
There should've been an edge in that statement, a rising tone, or at the very least, a glare, but there wasn't anything. Not the slightest indication of 'hate', as Nakano plainly put it, in that statement.
Yuki felt his throat run dry and his lungs tighten. If this is a dream, somebody, wake him up, please.
"Would…" He tried his best not to stutter, but talking in itself was starting to feel like quite a labor by then, "do… do you mind telling me what happened… while…" he couldn't even finish his own sentence. While what? While he was away brooding like the world was as its end? While he was too busy being selfish with his own feelings? While he was hiding from Shuichi?
For a moment, Yuki wondered exactly what Nakano would do. If he would lash out in anger and berate him for being a bastard who dared to ask such a stupid question, or if the guitarist would settle in just keeping quiet, refusing to tell Yuki anything knowing how well that would work in making Yuki feel guilty. Guilt which, as he was quite sure by then, starting to surface and soften the features of his once-hardened expressions.
But he was startled out of his stupor when Nakano said something. His voice was soft, shaky and somewhat thin, and he refused to keep his eyes locked on the blonde, the statement was barely audible, but Yuki heard them nonetheless.
"Shuichi broke…" were the first of the words that would forever linger on Yuki's memory. He may never be able to forget this once-said conversation. "He…" Nakano continued, still keeping his gaze hidden and away from Yuki's, "He didn't even tell us you were gone… He just went on like nothing ever happened so we never even knew you were gone until… I thought it was strange that he wasn't talking about what you did, or what you said, but I thought it was just a phase that would pass, so I let it be. Jeez, some friend I turned out to be…"
Pause.
"I'm certain Seguchi-san knew, but big surprise that is- he knows everything about you, but he didn't say anything either. Shuichi had gotten quiet, but his songs had gotten… powerful, so we – I – I –" and for a moment the redhead was at lost or words, "I thought you were working rather well on your relationship. Though he was always staring into space, writing songs or looking at a picture of you or anything that somehow reminds him of you, but I… I ignored…Then, during our concert, we noticed he wasn't talking, so we joked about it and even teased him, until we realized that he wasn't responding to any of us. We thought it was a joke… a sick joke he was pulling, but he… he just wouldn't respond to anything anymore – not to me, not to Sakuma-san, not to pocky, not to anything… it's like he just drifted off to nowhere… the only times I see a change in his expression is when I mention your name."
There was a visible flinch, and Nakano removed his elbows from the table and looked up at the graying sky above, "the doctors say that there isn't any reaction, that I was just imagining the flash of something in his eyes when I mention your name, but hey, what do they know about Shuichi anyway… they say he's never coming back, but I know he will. He's in there, I could see it, I just can't get him back… the one he needs is not me…"
…………………………………………………
At NG Studios
A rather famous but pissed vocalist roughly threw the bundle of paper in his hands to the floor, making disturbing sounds echo all around the room.
"What is it now, Ryu-chan?" an annoyed Noriko said, slamming her delicate fingers on the innocent keyboard in front of her, making an ugly melody.
"I can't sing this song!" Ryuichi Sakuma answered just as angrily.
"And so I've heard. But what the damn hell is it about that damn song that you can't sing? We've already adjusted the melody, tuned it, adjusted the tempo – the only damn thing we didn't change was the lyrics – and that's because you specifically said not to! So what the hell is it about now?" Noriko was nearly fuming. They had been working on this song for one week now, and it's been sounding fine to her until Ryuichi snapped.
"Calm down, you guys," Tohma stood trying to calm down his own tired and irritated self. "What else do you think we should change about this song, Ryuichi?"
Silence.
"I didn't think there was anything left to adjust in the first place." The vocalist replied, "It's a great song from the beginning."
"Then why can't you sing it dam-"
"You don't understand, Noriko," Ryuichi said before the keyboardist could finish her sentence, "you don't know how this song feels…" the vocalist dropped himself on the couch, leaning his head on the back while putting a hand on his forehead, trying to focus his eyes on the ceiling, "when I sing this song, I am…" the word was rather difficult to say, embarrassing even, but alas, the great Sakuma Ryuichi had to admit this, "I am overwhelmed…"
A gasp could be heard echoing all around them.
"I don't know how to deal with all its emotions. At first I thought I could tune it until I can sing it as my own, but I…"
"We can still try changing the-" a persistent Tohma tried to say, but was cut off by a snort, followed by a gaze from the blue-eyed singer. So rarely had Tohma seen Ryuichi serious for a long period of time, and really, it was starting scare him.
"You don't get it, do you? When I sing this song, I can feel it rushing, gushing through my veins. I can feel love, but there is also pain. I can feel sadness along with joy, I feel alive yet I feel so numb, I feel like I'm looking for something and I feel like I can reach it, but somehow I can never get close enough. I feel like I want to hate something, but I can't do it… this song will drive me crazy, Tohma, I don't even know how he managed to write this, much more sing it that day."
Crazy… Interesting choice of word.
The blonde keyboardist, realizing the futility of his attempts, finally gave up and called it a day.
There would be other songs to try, hopefully, they weren't as intense as this one was, but a part of him said otherwise.
He vaguely wondered if this was the idea of revenge by some sick mind, and thought deeply about his actions: both what he had done in the past and what he's doing at the very moment.
Is it wrong to use the present predicament to his advantage?
The answer to this, as he had a strange lurking feeling from within, will reveal itself in time… probably sooner now that a certain blonde novelist is back…
A very alone Yuki Eiri sat still from where Hiroshi had left him. Thankfully, there was neither mob nor annoying reporters around to recognize who he was, if he was even still a recognizable figure in Japan, that is.
How would you react, think, even just go on with your everyday, knowing that you had driven your lover to insanity?
The blonde sighed and had a rather peculiar urge to… goodness he never thought he'd ever say the word even just to himself, but he had the urge to, gulp, pray.
Tatsuha Uesugi sat on the edge of the temple flooring, facing the small pond and watching how its color slowly changed from blue to a somewhat fiery red, mirroring the skies above. Soon enough, it would be twilight and hopefully, he'd have a unique view of the stars, slightly distorted whenever the wind would blow and disturb the calm waters.
Meditating was something he could easily fall victim to, having acquired the habit from his constant practices when he was younger.
He wasn't as young now, and that's because time had seemingly just passed him by. Time… He almost couldn't believe it's been nearly nine months now since he had last heard a coherent statement from Shuichi, given what the word 'coherent' meant when it's about the pink-haired vocalist.
Tsch. No. Shuichi no longer has pink hair; he has to somehow inculcate that in his mind. But the mere thought of changing his image of the said singer breaks a piece of his heart, but one must do what he had to do.
He sadly wondered what it would've been like if Shuichi had been his and not his brother's. Not that he would so openly covet his own brother, but Shuichi would've been easy to love. He was someone, probably the only one, who could remain seemingly innocent in spite of all the violence, sex and money he could be surrounded with, being in the music business.
He remembered that day, when Hiro mentioned to him about the flash in Shuichi's eyes whenever he would mention the word 'Yuki'. He had dyed his hair blonde almost immediately, wore contacts and even put on his brother's clothes, but he had had to have known that it would be useless. There was a reaction, but it was gone as soon as it came. Shuichi knew Eiri too well to be fooled by such tricks. After all, Shuichi loved every fiber of Eiri Uesugi's whole being, not just physical appearance.
To have two completely different images of Shuichi in his mind right now…
The shuffling of dry leaves brought him out of his stupor and forced him to look to the direction of the sound and –
Oh.
His brother was here.
Tatsuha didn't even realize how much he wanted and hated to see his own brother.
He had mixed emotions about this meeting. Somehow, hope dawned on him, knowing that this man could snap Shuichi back to them, but at the same time, hatred wanted to overwhelm him.
Hatred was a strong word, but when it came right down to it, after all Shuichi went through because of this man, hatred is all that he could really feel.
…………………………………………………………
Meanwhile… in the absence of reality…
Did you hate me that much?
What did I do wrong?
What didn't I do?
Wasn't I enough for you?
Why didn't you make me understand?
Didn't I even deserve a decent goodbye?
Did you find someone better?
Are you happy now?
Are you happier with someone else?
If you are, can I still be a part of your life?
Are you still even alive?
Will you take me with you if you aren't?
Questions…
Questions…
Questions…
To be continued……………………………