Title: Maybe, This Time
Disclaimer: Yeah, no. Not at all.
Summary: (sequel to "Bye Bye Baby") In America Suguru tried to leave everything behind. In Japan Hiro couldn't let go of what had been. What happens when Suguru returns to Bad Luck?
Author's Notes: WOO. First chapter of the SEQUEL. Hope everyone likes! And remember, reviews equal love.
Chapter 1: Bye Bye Baby Remix
"Heading off to purebred friends and happy ends and anything to prove I'm disloyal."
Suguru opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was pale gold, mellow and calm. There was a chandelier, beautiful and intricate, but it was not lit by either electricity or candles. Instead the light was coming from—Suguru rolled a little, noting the soft feel of the bedspread—the rather large windows that overlooked a towering city.
There was a humph from across the room.
Ah, that explained everything. He had gotten familiar with that particular noise over his past year in New York. That meant it was Sybil he was dealing with and this room had to be her suite in the Waldorf-Astoria. But…how did he even get here?
He turned again. Sybil was sitting at a glossy table, a mirror tilted towards her face. Short grey hair curled around her sharp face, offsetting the slanted hazel eyes and edged cheekbones. She brought an eyeliner pencil up with one thin hand and it hovered at the corner of one eye. "I see you're awake, Suguru. There's no use hiding." She did not sound amused.
"'M not hiding," Suguru muttered into the duvet.
"Yeah right. And you weren't completely trashed last night." The pencil drew along one eyelid, ended up in a curve, and then went out with her gesturing at Suguru.
Suguru couldn't lie to her (or rather, he could and then she'd call him on it, as she had many times before; the side benefits of playing poker, she'd tell him), so he said nothing to that comment. Instead he asked, "How did I even get here? Last I remember I was at a club downtown…" He drew a hand over his face, feeling his head start to pound.
Sybil snorted. "Well, Romano called me to tell me that you were leaving the club, so I told him to just bring you back here." The pencil went back to her face, curved around the slant of her eye, and was placed onto the table by the mirror.
Suguru lifted his head enough to glare at her. "You set your bodyguard on me?"
She glared right back at him, twisting around in her seat to do so. "You ended up in the slums of the Bronx last week. I figured that having him tail you was better than getting a call at seven in the morning to pick you up because you're hung over and lost. Again."
Trying to bury himself in the bed, Suguru muttered, "You don't have to babysit me." Then, "That's only happened a few times anyway."
Sybil stood and shed her robe, revealing the elegant pantsuit beneath it. When she spoke her voice was tinged with resigned. "More than a few times," she corrected. "And apparently I have to babysit you. You seem intent on destroying yourself."
When he had come to the XMR Company in New York, he hadn't expected getting a manager of his own; he had thought he would be placed in a group and their manager would be his own. Instead he had gotten Sybil Cavanaugh, a sought after manager; XMR had assigned her to him because of his already pop star status from Bad Luck along with the idea that he'd be moving from group to group. She was an older woman and had a maternal streak that was only rivaled by her mile-wide mean streak. She was the one that usually spotted his boredom in whatever group he was playing for and switched him to another group before he even said anything. She had been his manager and friend for the year he had been in XMR—and she was the one who was usually pulling him away from his partying streak.
Sybil sighed and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Brushing his bangs away from his face in a motherly motion he had never received from his own mother, Sybil said quietly, "I try to help, but you keep going back to clubbing."
Her hand was cool and dry against his forehead, relieving some of the ache that was burning beneath his skin. "I need to do something. My work is boring, no matter what group you put me in. Clubbing keeps me distracted."
One perfectly plucked eyebrow went up. "And the drinking? And the one-night stands?"
"…Amusement," Suguru finally decided.
The strong fingers grabbed his chin and forced his gaze to her. "It's not amusing the morning after, now is it? No, no, it is not." She let go of his chin and leaned back from him. "Especially not for me." She leveled a glare at him. "You're going to be the death of me, boy."
Suguru grinned at her. "That's the whole point of me being at XMR, isn't it?"
A smile cracked through the glare and she stood, ruffling his hair. "Maybe you should head back to NG then," she said jokingly.
Suguru turned away from her, the thought clanging about in his already pained head.
Sybil rolled her eyes, bent down, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "Stay as long as you like, boy-o. Here and at XMR." She straightened, eyeing him skeptically. "Especially at XMR. Because god knows that if you face whatever you're running from, you're just going to die."
Hiding his face in the covers again, Suguru muttered, "'M not running from anything."
Another familiar humph. "Yeah. Sure. And I'm the queen of Sheba." Another fond hair-ruffle and then the click of heels on the floor as she walked away.
Suguru rolled over once more, keeping his eyes on the pale gold ceiling. Go back to NG Studio? Go back to Bad Luck? Go back to…
No, he couldn't go back. Not when dark eyes and dark hair and an easy smile and laugh continued to haunt him so. Head pounding, Suguru turned so his face was buried in the darkness of the soft pillows.
Hiro leaned in the back of the seat and watched as...Karin—no, Karin had been from a few weeks ago—so Hana—maybe Haruka?—oh, whoever she was threw yet another fit. Shuichi leaned away from her with wide eyes and threw an almost frightened look at Hiro.
K scowled at the screaming girl and tried to calm her—without a gun because when he had first aimed the gun at them, a normal occurrence, she had burst into terrified tears.
Hiro leaned over to Shuichi. "Another one gone?" he murmured quietly.
Shuichi nodded, eyes still on the whining princess. "Thankfully." Now he looked over to Hiro, a smile on his face. "I wonder who Tohma will send us now." The purple gaze went hazy and unfocused. "Maybe someone not completely crazy," he said dreamily.
Hiro laughed lightly. "Yeah, like that will happen. Everyone here is completely crazy." They watched as K lost all patience, whipped out his Magnum, and aimed it at the girl. Her diatribe cut off into horrified shrieks; then she turned and ran as fast as she could out of the conference room. Looking vaguely lost, K holstered his gun and turned to Sakano. A whispered conversation ensued, Sakano growing paler and paler as they talked.
"Maybe we'll get someone who can actually write good compositions," Shuichi said.
Hiro drummed his fingers and looked away.
Shuichi didn't notice and continued talking anyway. "I mean, it's been a year since Fujisaki left, but we haven't been able to able to top any of our old songs." He made a face. "I mean, we knew Fujisaki was good, especially since he's related to Tohma, but nobody we've had can write compositions like he could."
Taking in a deep breath, Hiro evenly said, "Yeah, but he's working for XMR Company. In America. We've been over this."
"I know," Shuichi agreed. "It just sucks. Out of all the people we've had, he's the best composer for Bad Luck. I still think we should just go to America and steal him back."
Hiro tried for a laugh. "That's not a good idea and we know it."
Shuichi flopped onto the table and pouted. "So? We can still try it."
"No, Shuichi. It's been a year…just get used to it." Like he should be saying that.
Knowing the truth, Shuichi narrowed his eyes. "Sure, Hiro."
Sakano clearing his throat interrupted their conversation. "Since we don't have a keyboardist—"
"For the fifth millionth time," Shuichi dramatized.
"I'll have to go to Sacho-sama and tell him so. He said that if Haruna-san didn't work out, then he had a keyboardist in mind for us." He adjusted his glasses. "We'll just end today's session now, I suppose."
As Hiro started packing up his stuff and K and Sakano left, Shuichi groaned and complained. "I bet Tohma has had somebody in mind for a while now and he's just been holding out! That would be like him, wouldn't it? Why couldn't he have just told us about this keyboardist before all of the completely crazy people?"
Hiro laughed a little. "This has to be a last resort of some sort, you know that."
Sighing dramatically, Shuichi followed as Hiro walked out of the room. "I guess. Still, it's such a pain, going through all these people only to find that they won't work with us."
As they exited the NG Studio building, Shuichi turned to Hiro. "Hey, you want to go and get dinner or something."
Hiro paused. "Nah. Go be with Yuki or whatever you're doing tonight."
Shuichi grin's was suddenly megawatt bright. He gave Hiro a fierce hug and took off, yelling, "See you later!" behind his shoulder.
Hiro watched his friend run away and sighed lightly. He was in his early twenties; he should have been living it up and having fun, yet his plans for the night were just going home, calling Ayaka, and then going to sleep.
He rode his motorbike to his place, dropping his things by the doorway, went to the phone, and dialed Ayaka's number. Phone ringing, he leaned against the wall and waited.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Ayaka. It's Hiro."
They started talking, the conversation revolving mainly around Ayaka's schooling, Kojiro (who was now Ayaka's boyfriend), and Shuichi. Hesitantly, Hiro broached about how they lost yet another keyboardist.
Ayaka was suspiciously silent. Then, "How are you doing, Hiro?"
He wanted to laugh it off, pretend that he had no idea what she was talking about with such a vague question, but they had had this conversation too many times to do that. "Fine," he offered. "He's been gone for a year now, so I'm…fine."
"Uh huh." She didn't sound convinced. "Meet anybody yet?" A pause. "I mean, since it has been so long…"
"No, I haven't. I just…" He should have been trying to leave the memory of what he had with Suguru behind. It was, after all, completely unrequited and Suguru was gone. He had been able to get over Ayaka easily enough even though they had an actual relationship, so why couldn't he just let it go?
Ayaka sighed quietly. "It's okay, Hiro. You don't have to explain to me. I just think that maybe…just maybe you should try to move forward with your life."
"You've told me that before," he informed her dryly.
"I know, but I ask if you met anybody every time we talk and each time you say you haven't, all because of a guy that doesn't love you and has been living in America for a year."
Hiro winced but said nothing. She was right, after all.
"I'm sorry, Hiro," she murmured. "It's just…you always sound so hurt when you talk about him and time has passed and you've always said that it's unrequited…" Her words trailed off.
"Yeah, I know." He fought to breathe around the lump in his throat. "Look, Ayaka, I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"…Sure, Hiro. Bye." And then the dial tone.
Hiro pushed off the wall, hung up the phone, and trudged to his bed. Sleep was a welcome reprieve.