Ha ha, I can't find my floppy for List of Worries again… in the meantime, I've been working on this. Same guys, different angsts. Yay.

The lyrics that pop in a little ways in are from "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight" by The Postal Service.

Rated PG-13 due to minor random swearing and darker themes.

--- It's Not My Fault- the World Just Hates Me---

For some time now, he had wondered why he stared. Or even bothered to think about him in such ways. It was inappropriate, not to mention if anyone found out – which wasn't likely, since he never wrote or said a single thing about this- they would jump all over him for answers. But if he couldn't come up with excuses to calm himself down, then how could he face all of Japan? Staring at camera blank-faced and slack-jawed was not the image he had spent years building. But he… he couldn't help it. It was a small miracle in of itself that he was able to hide it at all.

"Ne, Suguru, can we go over that again?" asked Shuichi almost apologetically, rubbing the back of his head and grinning sheepishly.

He wanted to be the one running his hands through that mop of pink hair, drinking in its scent- it just had to be strawberry- and have that lithe body in his hands, shivering, pleading…

"Sure," he replied, cool as ever. To tell the truth, he was a little aggravated at having to run through it again, but Suguru had all the time in the world to waste in the studio nowadays. He had finally graduated from high school, and his family had agreed no to pressure him into attending college for as long as Bad Luck continued to be successful. It was a fair deal that even Tohma could agree to.

Suguru restarted the song from the beginning and bowed his head over his synthesizer, allowing the music to completely flood his entire being, until he was subconsciously bobbing his head to the beat and silently mouthing the lyrics that Shuichi was singing. His thoughts wandered as the song reached the chorus, where Shuichi practically exploded with emotion- everyone in the studio got goose bumps up and down their arms and spine, feeling the raw emotion he expressed with his exceptionally distinct vocal talents.

He wanted to be the source of Shuichi's talent, the reason he would come into the studio day after day… the source of the idiot savant's inspiration and uniquely powerful voice. He should be the one who spent nights next to him in bed, whispering sweet nothings and gently holding him until sleep overtook them. Not that cold-hearted bastard that couldn't even do the boy the favour of waiting up for him when he got home late at night.

"Ah, that was lots better than last time! Thanks, Suguru," sighed Shuichi after the song had played through completely. "Do ya think that's good enough to be the final version?"

"Absolutely. I'll mix it down tonight, then we can finish the album tomorrow." As the producer of Bad Luck, Suguru had about as much work as Shuichi did- not only did he write most of the arraignments to accompany Shuichi's lyrics, he did a lot of technical work in getting the albums done and out on the market. It had been very bad for his nerves while he was still in school, causing him to be extremely tense and likely to spaz on almost every small detail that put a wrinkle in his plans. Usually the disturbances in the production schedule were Shuichi's days of emotional turbulence, where Yuki had been extremely cruel to him and thus rendering him incapable of even uncurling himself from a sobbing, wailing mass on the floor. It was on days like those that Suguru had to use all the willpower he possessed to not march right up to Yuki's apartment and beat the living daylights out of him. Of course, the fact that he was no match for the tall blonde also prevented that. But to be put behind schedule was, in his eyes, worse than death.

"Okay! WHEE! WE'RE DONE!" Shuichi squeed and proceeded to bounce excitedly from one wall of the studio to another. Suguru simply sighed and collected what he needed before going home. It would be better to do the other things at home, away from all the chaos and noise.

"Suuuguuuruuu! We've gotta celebraaate!"

Suguru tried to stop his eyebrow from twitching in annoyance as Shuichi latched on to his arm. At the same time, his heart began to beat faster, thumping against his chest as a soft blush began to stain his pale cheeks.

Why, oh why did it have to be like this…?

"Shindou-san, I-"

"Call me Shuichi! We've been friends for like, four years now! C'mon, say it. Say it!"

"Shindou-san, I'm busy tonight."

"Shu-i-chi! Say my name!"

"I have been calling you by your name, Shindou-san, now if you'll please excuse me…" Suguru tried to tug his arm free, but the singer held on with a surprisingly strong grip.

The whole name thing was almost a game between them that had started about two years ago- Suguru, being a very polite person, had refrained from using anyone's first names, even after such a long time as a member of Bad Luck. Shuichi had insisted on less formality and had everyone- even the staff that worshipped him- calling him by his first name… except Suguru. Since then, Shuichi would occasionally bring the topic up and Suguru would decline and use his last name with a polite honorific. (Of course Shuichi had been using Suguru's first name for a long time now.)

"But you don't have school any more! I know for a fact that this is the last track you have to add and that it doesn't take long, even if you're such a freak about precision and all. Just come ooon! Hiro's sick and I can't ask him to come!" Shuichi whined, pulling on Suguru's arm.

So I'm just the back up for Nakano-san…? I'm over-joyed, Shindou-san. "I also have personal matters to attend to. Please, Shindou-san, let me go."

"Only if you call me by my first name. If you're not going to go celebrate with me, then at least call me by first name." Suguru was surprised with the sudden turn in Shuichi's mood. Instead of sporting his usual goofy grin, he had bowed his head and looked like he was on the verge of tears. Truthfully, Suguru would have liked nothing more than to go with him for something to eat, but… he was afraid that he might give himself away. He was also tempted to cave in and call Shuichi by his given name. Yet the need to maintain his image was more important than being a friend right now.

Suguru sometimes wondered when his priorities had become so screwed up.

"Shindou-san," he said sternly, acting like the producer he was supposed to be. "I'm sorry, but I cannot celebrate with you tonight. I have many things that I need to accomplish. Perhaps, once Nakano-san is feeling well again, we can go out as a band." His heart panged as Shuichi slowly let go and backed away, head still down. He said a quick farewell and left the studio in a rush, knowing that K-san would tie up any lose ends with the staff.

"Suguru, I… just wanted it to be us two. No one else…" whispered Shuichi as he shut the door.

---

Suguru sighed and yanked a few strands of hair out as he leaned back in his chair. The final touches were done and the album could be sent for the final release process tomorrow, but something felt incomplete. It was sure to be another triple-platinum album; it was already highly anticipated by fans all over Japan and even in mainland Asia and Europe, as well as America and, surprisingly, Australia and Russia. Bad Luck had quickly risen and taken over the world in four short years, something that Nittle Grasper had never done. They had beaten the legends and become nothing short of gods in the world of progressive pop and electronica. Suguru had browsed the web and come across countless shrines to each member of the band- even K- and quickly found that Bad Luck was anywhere and everywhere. So this latest work of theirs, Blue Dreams, would cement the existing fans more firmly in place and probably win over a horde of new ones. They had experimented in a few tracks with an edgier sound, allowing Hiro to bring more rock influences to the foreground. If the reception was positive, then they could expand on it, blending electronica and rock into another seamless style to call all their own. It didn't mean that they'd leave their original sound completely, but it was time to start dabbling in other areas… if they were to maintain their positions as music gods, then they needed to ride the waves of fads and opinions all over the world. It was by no means an easy task.

So here he was, the producer and third member of this legendary band, having a conniption because something about this masterpiece made it less than perfect. Suguru knew very well that if released as it was, it wouldn't suffer at all. But his pride as a musician was preventing him from leaving his in-home makeshift studio and calling it a day.

"Suguru, you're such a freak about perfection! It's okay if a few things are left out, as long as we did our best! Besides, who wants to work that hard over something that's already going to do better than what the official reports predict?"

Shuichi's words echoed in his head, making his stomach flutter while he winced with the truth of them. That particular comment had been about his panic attack over the third album, Pocky for the Masses, which had had to be released two months behind schedule, due to technical failures and a great deal of domestic issues between Yuki and Shuichi. Suguru thought he had never seen Shuichi more despondent than on those days… the poor boy hadn't even had the will to eat.

Shuichi… I've been terrible to you, haven't I? No better than that bastard writer. Suguru curled up in his chair and stared at his equipment. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve as his eyes prickled with tears, allowing his guards to fall now that he was alone. I think I love you. But I'm so messed up that I can't even admit it to myself most times.

Back when he had first joined Bad Luck, Suguru had been something of a homophobe, and Shuichi's flamboyant bisexuality and relationship with Yuki scared him. He was also worried about the image of the band- if the front man "didn't discriminate between sexes" when it came to orientation, then what assumptions would the public make about the rest of them? He found out that they were fairly forgiving, especially towards Hiro. (The fact that he was happily dating Ayaka didn't hurt either.) As for himself, Suguru was ignored for the most part. He was the third member, just barely above being a part-time support member. In fact, he was almost always out of the limelight during tours and public appearances, until Shuichi slipped up and mentioned that he was the great Tohma Seguchi's cousin. Then he was no longer left alone, pushed to the forefront of an overwhelmingly large stage to stand tall with Shuichi and Hiro, finally a recognised god of a songsmith, better than the original that had taught him. At first he had been full of pride and relief- his goal was reached. He was better than Seguchi, and Bad Luck had completely trounced Nittle Grasper. But it was short-lived when he saw himself in magazine articles and blogs, the writers questioning just about everything about him. No one knew who he really was besides a cute face with immeasurable talent. So of course they made up things about him- he never went to school, he lived with Tohma and had affairs with his wife, he was part of a secret government organisation devoted to banning all music. To set the record straight, he had allowed K to set him up with a popular morning talk-show host. Suguru had gone to and graduated from high school at the top of his class, he had never lived with Tohma (though they saw each other often enough to form an almost brotherly relationship) and was still a virgin, and music was his entire life, so there was no way he'd be trying to stop it from being produced. It all went swimmingly until the host asked about his orientation, which totally blindsided Suguru. Upon later reflection, he supposed he should have expected it, coming from a band whose lead singer was openly bisexual, but as it was, he had blinked and said the first thing that came to his head: "I like guys."

He winced in remembrance of the PR firestorm that single statement had caused. K had loved it and let the rumours fly, saying it would be great for publicity. Tohma had called him in to the office and made it quite clear that he was not to make any public appearances by himself for a very long time. The fans squealed and screamed and his popularity instantly soared as many imaginative souls wrote about forbidden love affairs between the child prodigy and his cousin, the manager, the members of Bad Luck, and just about anyone else they could think of. The worst part, however, had been facing Shuichi and Hiro the next day. Hiro had smiled, cracked a few jokes, and then settled for sneaking amused glances his way for a week or so. But Shuichi had instantly jumped all over him. "Oh Suguru, I'm so happy for you! You're not a homophobe anymore! Yay!" He supposed he had passed some sort of secret test that Shuichi had given him, but to be honest, he had scared himself. Was he really gay? He no longer had problems with other people's sexuality, but his own… he had always figured that if his hormones ever decided to kick in, he'd be straight. That's how things were supposed to be in his mind. But after that fateful interview, he realised that he wasn't- he, Suguru Fujisaki, had managed to ignore the fact that he was full-fledged gay for his entire life. He wondered with the incredibility of it all. If he had never joined Bad Luck, would he have ever realised it? He might have graduated high school, then college, gotten married and lived a normal life with his wife and kids. But he couldn't change it… in the advent of his newfound sexuality, he found that along with the band's rising popularity, so were the frequency of his panic attacks and nights of insomnia. He couldn't sleep any more… there was a sense of something being absent that he had never missed before. Suguru couldn't tell what it was for the life of him.

Until Shuichi started having problems with his relationship with Yuki.

As soon as Shuichi moped in and wailed about Yuki's cruelty for the umpteenth time one day not long afterwards, Suguru felt a surge of dangerous emotions- he was torn between protectively hugging the baka to comfort him and marching right up to the writer's door and kicking his face in. These shocking feelings returned often and plagued him even when he was alone and out of Shuichi's presence… the singer was deeply ingrained in his consciousness and refused to leave. Soon enough, Suguru began to write music, work, even breathe just to see Shuichi smile. He might not be able to help him with Yuki, but he could make him forget for a while through music and singing. Seeing him smile was enough. However, when Shuichi showed up with bruises and cuts after a few particularly rough nights, Suguru had to restrain himself with everything he could to not jump in and try to fix all of his problems. It wasn't his place, and it would create an awkward situation between himself and Yuki, not to mention sparking another outburst from the public if anyone so much got a hint that he might like the singer. Suguru wanted to be in the background now that he had been recognised as the genius he was.

So here he was, sitting in front of his equipment, trying to forget the world and his problems in his job. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't- he wanted to be with someone, but he couldn't let anyone see him cry. He wanted to rely on someone but was afraid of exposing himself. He wanted to confess everything to Shuichi, but didn't want to create more problems for the singer. He wanted to be a better friend but was frightened that he would give himself away too much. He wanted to change but was too afraid and instead chose to remain the same. Suguru knew his problems stemmed mostly from his tendency to ignore them and instead focus on Bad Luck as an escape from reality. He also knew that he'd be doing Shuichi no favours by acting the same as always… Suguru knew that his sole purpose for writing music nowadays was to make the singer happy, but Shuichi didn't. The changes were too subtle for anyone but Suguru himself to notice.

Holding his head in his hands, Suguru shook with fear and self-loathing. He had nothing to offer Shuichi but himself as he was, but he wasn't good enough. Not perfect. Sure, he had the image of the slightly crazy, brilliant prodigy with an endless well of talent down pat. But the real Suguru, the one on the cusp of manhood, just as confused and scattered and talentless as everyone else might as well be another person. He felt as though he was drowning in himself, debating whether the rising tide of all-too familiar panic would drown him this time, or only leave him writhing on the floor, crying and holding himself because no one else could.

As he began to shake with the overflow of raw emotions, Suguru's eye caught on a stack of unfinished scrap music that hadn't been good enough for the album. It struck him that in that pile might be what would make the album complete, the same exact time he fell out of his chair and began to convulse on the hardwood floor.

---

Shuichi sat shivering outside of the door. He hugged himself and the thin blanket he had grabbed before Yuki had forcibly thrown him out as close as he could, trying to ignore the coldness in his extremities.

It had been no different from any normal argument that they had had- Yuki had to work and Shuichi wanted to play. But something in the writer had snapped, permanently, and he had picked up the screaming Shuichi by his heels and thrown him out the door, telling him in a murderous voice to never come back. Not sure what to do, Shuichi had sat down and cried, but refrained from pounding on the door and demanding to be let back in. To be honest, he was sort of sick of it too… all the fighting and tension outweighed the enjoyable moments by far. Shuichi was heartsick of wasting his breath on a sarcastic demon that only cared about himself. There had been hope when Yuki had taken his hand in the airport and smiled, a gentleness and sincere happiness in his eyes, but everything had gone downhill from there. Now he was acting worse than when Shuichi had first met him, going on drinking and smoking binges, sleeping with loose women, and even going so far as to rough Shuichi up a little when he was in a foul mood.

He couldn't take the neglect, and he knew the best way to solve the problem would be to move away from Yuki's doorstep and go elsewhere, never turning back. But he was still concerned about the writer. Shuichi wanted to help; some small part of him held the hope that if Yuki could be convinced to tone down his bad habits, then he'd be a nicer person again. It had happened before, right? Shuichi had pushed, glomped, and cross-dressed his way into Yuki's life, giving the man the courage he needed to accept his dark past and live in the present. … Even though it seemed like a blurry photograph in his mind now.

Out of focus. A distorted memory of happier times.

"The stranger with the door key, explaining that I'm just visiting; and I'm finally seeing, why I was the one worth leaving…" he whispered in his best Ingrish, remembering the song that he had heard on one of Bad Luck's over-seas tours in America. He had liked it so much that he had bought the album, though he couldn't understand any of it. It was by a band called The Postal Service, he knew that much.

"Mou, I wish I could listen to it… but it's inside, and… I can't get back in… Yuki…" he bowed his head and cried, softly, for a while until he was dried up. He shivered all the while and felt first his toes, then his feet and fingers and nose go numb. Shuichi looked up when a pale ray of pre-dawn light peeked through the tall buildings of the Tokyo skyline and caressed his tear-streaked face, sniffed, and made a final decision. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the cell phone that K had instructed him to carry everywhere (in case he got lost) and dialed the number of a friend that he was sure would still be awake.

---

Suguru jumped a mile when the sudden ringing of the telephone jarred him from sleep. Only a few people knew his home number, and he didn't think any of them were insane to be awake –unless drunk- at 3:45 in the morning on a workday. He took a moment to inhale a stabilizing breath, then reached over and turned the speakerphone on.

"Fujisaki here," he said, hoping he gave the impression that he hadn't just been woken up.

"Suguru… I knew you'd be up," the caller whispered. "Still working on that album?"

"Shindou-san, is that you? What are you doing up this late –err, early?" he asked incredulously, now fully awake. Okay, maybe he should have expected this at some point… Shuichi calling at a ridiculously early hour. But still!

"Can I come over? I need… I need somewhere to stay for a little bit. If it's not too much of a problem, that is…" a wave of static came over the line as Shuichi exhaled into the mouthpiece.

WhoawaitWHAT? Shuichi's asking ME for help? I don't know whether to be overjoyed or afraid… why me, when there are plenty of other people he could ask instead?

"Well, ah, certainly- I'll tidy up and… when will you be here?" He had to stay professional, in-control… no weaknesses.

"Suguru, I don't know where you live… just your number."

"Right, right, I forgot that… well, I have your address, so I'll meet you in front of the complex, and I'll bring you back here. Does that work?" Be the accommodating producer, do what you can to comfort him…

"Yeah. Thanks a bunch, Suguru. I'll see you in a bit." The line clicked off before Suguru could respond.

Well, I have his address, but I'll need to put it in a search engine to get an idea of where it actually is… and he'll undoubtedly need to gather his worldly possessions, and… ah… I'll have to clean my room, I guess. I can take the couch if it's just for a few days.

Suguru sighed and ran his hands through his hair. While the rest of his apartment was reasonably clean for a busy person that was too prideful to hire a maid, his room was an absolute mess. It was rare that he put clothes away, instead opting to dump them on the floor and hope that they were clean when he went to look for them. He couldn't remember the last time he had dusted, or seen his floor (he assumed it was hardwood like the rest of the place), or even dared to look in the closet. The possibility of what might be growing on those old dishes chilled his very soul.

I'll have to open the closet, retrieve the dishes and cups, do a quick scrubbing if need be, then shove all the junk in there, if it fits. If not… I think… I have drawers… somewhere. I could stack things in here too. I hope Shuichi doesn't have many things, or we're in trouble! My apartment isn't small, but it's not entirely big either. I have a bedroom, a tiny bathroom, this little studio, an entrance/living room, and small kitchen. There's a porch too but I never use it since heights don't really agree with me and I'm pretty high up... I can crash on the couch if it's for a week or so and not suffer, but if it's longer than that, I'll probably consider getting another futon to put in here. It would be mean to ask Shuichi to bring his own. Ah, I'll figure the specifics out later- I need to do a quick clean then get Shuichi.

Suguru quickly plugged Shuichi's address in to the computer on the far side of the room and jotted down the nearest train station to it, then hurried in to his room across the narrow hall and did his best to make it look less like a typical teenager's and more like a professional musician's. The closet, unopened for many years, yielded a wide variety of molds and unidentifiable substances attached to the pile of dirty plates and cups. He wrinkled his nose in disgust but remembered to thank whatever protective spirits that still watched him for the lack of insects and stench. After dumping them in the sink to be cleaned later, he scrubbed some of the more resilient life forms away and, after ten minutes of forceful shoving, managed to cram every article of clothing on the floor into the small space. Suguru slammed the door shut and wiped his brow, then quickly grabbed his coat and dashed out the door as quietly as he could in order to meet Shuichi.

Not two seconds after he left, his phone rang, echoing slightly in the empty space. The answering machine picked up after five rings:

"I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you."

-beeeeep-

"Suguru-kun, this is Tohma… regarding your new album, "Blue Dreams", I was wondering if we could possibly get started on the manufacturing process later today. Word of its release has spread faster than anticipated, so there's no need to hold off and wait for the news to get around. Sorry for calling so early –I guess you're sleeping for once if I'm talking to your answering machine- so just call me back in the morning when you get this. Thanks."

-click-

---

"I h-hope he gets here soon…" Shuichi shivered under his thin blanket. What he was taking with him was next to him in a bright orange bag on the ground, like a beacon in the early dawn for those who had lost their way. There wasn't much in it- his favourite outfits, some personal items, and the now slightly ragged Kumogoro that Ryuichi had given to him all those years ago. He loved the thing to death- not only had his former idol given it to him as a token of friendship, but it had been on the same day that Suguru had joined Bad Luck. That was one of his most favourite days ever.

I used to hate Suguru 'cause he was a better synth player than me and I was still annoyed that I had to only train my voice, but now I don't think I could ever dislike him…

He heard his friend coming a few minutes later, trotting and panting slightly. Shuichi noted with warm appreciation that Suguru had probably run all the way from the train station to meet him.

"H-hey, Suguru. Thanks."

"I'm sorry for being late, Shindou-san!" He half-bowed in apology. "There were a few last-minute things to tie up. Were you waiting long?"

"Nah, I'm g-good," he smiled through his chattering teeth. Shuichi's heart twinged when Suguru's eyes snapped up to meet his, concern evident behind the detached professionalism. "Really…"

"You're freezing! Here, take my jacket… how come you only have that thin blanket, Shindou-san?"

"Thanks… uh, can we get going? I'm still kinda cold…" Shuichi hugged his friend's coat closer to him, loving the warmth and security it provided. He and Suguru were the same size, apparently. And it smelled like him… a crisp yet familiar scent of cedar wood and mint. It was comforting. "Yuki… he kicked me out for good this time… so I need somewhere to stay until I get my own place… and since Hiro's sick, you're the only one I can turn to."

"Ah. I'm… sorry about that, Shindou-san. You may stay at my place for as long as you need." Shuichi heard the hesitation and not-quite-sincere tone in Suguru's voice, but he decided to let it slide since he had already done a great service by picking him up at an ungodly hour and providing him with a place to sleep.

The rest of their trip was silent. Both of them were tired and ready to drop on their feet by the time they were back on the train to Suguru's apartment, and Shuichi actually dozed for most of the fifteen-minute ride. Suguru remained awake and gazed out the window, absorbed in his own thoughts, most of which were about not thinking to wash the sheets on his futon, though there wasn't much he could do about it now. They had off in two days, and while Shuichi was out of the house, he'd spruce it up. That would be that.

Five minutes later they were in front of Suguru's apartment complex and walking in to the elevator, then up to his apartment door, then finally inside.

"You live close to the station, Suguru. That must make getting to work lots easier," Shuichi yawned.

"Actually, I live close enough to walk. But we can talk later- you should get some sleep, Shindou-… san…?" He paused as he caught a glimpse of Shuichi's sleepy, confused face.

"Reh…?"

Suguru didn't respond, instead he closed the gap between them and stood there, hazel eyes searching his friend's violet ones. He then reached up his hand and gently brushed a nasty bruise on Shuichi's cheek.

"Shindou-san, did Yuki-san…"

"He didn't like… having to let me in again. But it's okay since I'm not going back any more," Shuichi answered before Suguru could finish. "Can I go to bed…?"

"Oh, um, yes. Follow me." Suddenly, Suguru was his producer again, telling him what to do. Shuichi always hated it when he acted like that.

---

Shuichi inwardly sighed as he flopped down on Suguru's futon, listening as his band mate moved across the hall and into another room. There was the sound of someone else's voice, and though it was muffled, he could tell it was Tohma's… apparently, he had called while Suguru was out and left a message.

"Fuck," came the unexpected swear, causing Shuichi to twitch in surprise. It was rare that Suguru would use foul language now that he wasn't quite as stressed out, not that he had ever made much of a habit using it anyway. Whatever Tohma had said, it couldn't have been good.

"Tohma, I guess if I'm getting your answering machine, then you must actually be sleeping for once," he said in an uncharacteristically sarcastic and bitter voice. Shuichi guessed he was returning the call… Suguru's family must be slightly crazy if they did such things no matter what time of day. "And I'll present the album to you first thing this morning. But I also want to negotiate some downtime… a break, if you will. We've worked our asses off and I think we deserve one. See you later," he spat.

A break! YES! Oh Suguru, you're so wonderful…

A soft tune reached his ears as Shuichi began to drift off. It was very melancholy and sad, reminding him of lonely rainy days when no one was around and the only company he had was himself. He hugged himself closer and breathed in the scent of Suguru's sheets- the minty-cedarwood scent was particularly strong, as well as another, unexpected one that he couldn't identify in his sleepy state. He fell asleep as a despondent, heart-wrenching voice began to sing:

Take me, my pieces

Fit them together so they make

A picture that's healthy and whole

I can't keep going- my mask is crumbling

Right before my eyes, leaving me with nothing

When I fall, will you be there for me?

Or so disgusted that you let me go?

I'm falling, my sight is failing me

The dark spiral I was born into is coming

To its timely end

Though since I've met you, I've thought

That life, meaningless and cruel as it is

May have salvation in you

Save me from my fate, bring me to life

Let me see the sky

That I've always heard is beautiful…

Be my wings, I'll be your everything

Please catch me as I fall…

I'll be your everything

"Damn Tohma for changing the production date… that's the worst ending I could have come up with. Well, it's already on the disc, so there's not much I can do about it now. Fucking shit… some bonus track! I'm ashamed to have my name on it! I'm… not… nothing I do is perfect…"

Suguru leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, allowing himself to cry softly. All he wanted was perfection in the one thing he was good at. Was that too much to ask for? If he couldn't be a good person, then why couldn't he at least be a master songsmith? He'd sacrifice whatever it took. There was no way he'd even get close to being a normal human, hypocritical and cold as he was, but music was something he could do. Or so he thought.

"It's almost there, every time. Almost. But never exactly… oh Shuichi, I'm sorry I can't be better for you…"

Suguru fell asleep there, curled up and holding himself, salty tear-tracks streaking his face.

--- End Chapter I---

A/N: Spent forever and a day on this chapter… not sure why, either. It flowed well on the first draft… ..;; Boo mean Yuki. What happens next, I wonder?