Pulling a cig out from the secure packaging of it's box, Yuki Eiri flicked the lighter to ignite it before turning on his turn signal. Waiting for the light to change in the intersection, he took a deep drag and let the nicotine induced tobacco seep swiftly and silently into his lungs. Pulling the cig away from his lips, he gently pressed on the gas pedal and turned the wheel to ease his German car into the adjoining street.
The clock on his dash read 1:34 am. With a sigh of submission, the (in)famous writer knew he wouldn't be at the mercy of another night of sleep. Driving down the nearly deserted streets of downtown Tokyo, he revved his engine to increase speed as he sped further away from his problems. In the back of his mind, he wondered where Shuuichi was; although he knew all too well what the lead singer of Bad Luck would be doing that night. No doubt the pink haired fiend would be waiting up every moment to await his beloved's return; or he would pass out from exhaustion trying. Eiri knew he wouldn't be going back to his apartment.
Not that night, anyway.
Easing down circling and darkening roads, all the street lamps spread out and soon eavaporated as Eiri made it to the outskirts of Japan's capitol city. The only lights availiable to him came from the high beams of his Mercedes-Benz and the afterglow of the quarter moon hidden in the blanketed sky.
After about a half hour drive of listening to loud western rock music that he tuned out, Eiri made it to his destination. Peeling through the empty parking lot, the light-haired author parked his prized vehicle and cut the engine. He swooped out of his car and followed his way leisurely down the path that led to the beach; Eiri's favorite place to think.
The twenty-something would-be-bachelor sat on the sand before pulling out another cig, lighting it and looking up at the night sky. The wind blew past him, chilling his bones despite the earlier temperate day. The author pulled closer his black trenchcoat to try and gather more warmth. "Dammit," he cursed beneath his breath, looking down at himself. "I knew this fuckin' thing was only for style." That reality didn't stop him from trying, however.
Letting the cig rest on his lips, Eiri soon found his thoughts pulling him away as he became hypnotized with the sky. The stars were scarcely seen behind the veil of grey clouds, but Eiri didn't care. The scenery seemed to suit his present mood well: dark, chilly; brooding.
As his thoughts took full reign, the young author's head was soon filled with images and memories of Shuuichi. Sighing heavily, he allowed a groan to escape his lips. Shuuichi was always there. Following him around like a little puppy dog, no questions asked. When Eiri didn't want him around, it was still nearly impossible for Shindou to let go. He would whine and bitch and complain (and, on many occassions, even cry) to get his way: and that was always to be at Eiri's side.
"You don't understand me." Eiri muttered, finally removing the cigarette and flicking some ash off. "You never could." Eiri knew the truth: he had never been with Shuuichi because the singer was always with him. Shindou was a toy; a play thing to be entertained with and then tossed aside. Shuuichi had never understood any of that.
Yuki groaned and sighed heavily. Pulling his legs up, he rested his elbows on them before collapsing his face into his palms. "How can I possibly be with you?" He asked himself aloud for, what was more than likely, the thousandth time. "Yuki is still all I ever think about. And now you come into the picture... and I feel like I'm being haunted by the both of you."
Refocusing his attention to the very-early morning sky, Yuki took yet another deep drag. He knew something that everyone else didn't (or pretended not to notice): there was something empty inside of him. Something dead. Something that could not be revived or recultivated because it was gone. No matter how much love Shuuichi had for him; no matter how much affection he would share with the singer or anyone; there was no one who could fix that empty void within him.
"I guess it's true what they say," Eiri muttered as his cig started to burn out. "I'm a 'troubled soul'."