Disclaimer: The story nor the character depicted here belong to me.
Authors Note:
Not sure where I'm going with this, maybe a one-shot, maybe not. I've just always like the idea of Eiri being proud of and admiring Shuichi.
Edit: I have edited this story upon request. I looked it over and found out just how bad one's grammar is at 11pm.
I should have worn sunglasses. Because even with the darkly tinted windows I was already squinting from the bright light. There were hundreds of flashes as our black limousine pulled up alongside the famous red carpet. A driver opened the door and I suddenly found myself thanking God that I didn't suffer from epilepsy. I could barely see anything and all I could hear was my name being screamed over and over. And why wouldn't they be curious to know why a famous romance novelist such as myself was at a Grammy Awards Ceremony?
Now, this is not my first time in the spotlight obviously. Interviews, special guest appearances, I'm no stranger to the camera. But this has to be the first time that I've been behind the camera and it's not about me. In fact, I'm only here by association. Association with my brat who-
Oh, speak of the devil. Here he comes. He slides out of the same car that I came out of and when his foot hit's the carpet and his head dips to avoid the roof then comes back up as he stands the camera flashes seem to triple, the screams get all the more louder, and the body guards are all the more needed.
Shindou Shuichi.
Lead vocalist of the current number one band in Japan, Bad Luck. I remember him telling me briefly about an idea him and Tohma were discussing. A solo album, no doubt that will also hit number one. But besides having what many call the best vocals in Japan since the days of Sakuma Ryuichi he is also (whether he intended it or not) a fashion icon.
A fashion statement I can understand. But icon? I'm not sure who would take advice from him. Now, I'm not saying he doesn't look drop dead gorgeous in what he chooses to wear. I just can't see any other man -or woman for that matter- being able to pull it off.
What he has on for this particular event are the tightest and lowest pair of black leather pants I have ever seen in my life. They seem to disappear at the knee though, which is where his black, platform, knee high boots begin. They match his hair, which he died last week back to black and has covered every magazine since. I can remember seeing it on the way home at the store where I get my cigarettes before I actually saw it on his head. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. To say I was pleased? Also an understatement. But today, instead of it hanging loosely, his hair is gelled up in a style he calls a "bouffant". Whatever the hell that is. Then to make sure he has that expected glam, he's wearing a tank-top that I wouldn't argue to say is made entirely from glitter. The tank he is wearing has to be the baggiest, most sparkly, most pink thing I have ever seen him wear. And that's hard.
I myself just settled for your standard black tie suit.
But despite all of this I am forced to hide my contentment with the fact that as he steps out of the car and everybody is taking his picture and screaming his name, just begging for a little bit of his attention, his eyes still flash to mine first and a smile paints itself on his face. Then I feel his soft, precious hand intertwine with mine and I completely lose the ability to make a sarcastic comment. I just have enough pride remaining to look away without that smile that desperately wants to come out make it on to my face.
We walk forward and I take a second to look back and see Suguru trailing behind us alone with a blank expression and Nakano behind him with Ayaka linked to his arm. I remember listening to the rest of them in the car complaining about the paparazzi and then I can remember glancing over at Shuichi who hadn't voiced a single complaint or even an agreement. And now I can almost describe this feeling of pride, what I feel towards my brat. Because compared to how much they're hounding him what the rest of the band is getting is nothing. Its Shuichi they're all screaming at. Whether demanding he look there way or just expressing what they claim to be love.
We finally reach the part I was dreading. The place where you stand in front of a whole bunch of useless advertisement backgrounds and allow these people to take you're picture. Nevertheless we stand there hand in hand. I plaster my fake, yet charming,smile on for them while Shuichi's smile comes naturally. He waves and eventually leans against me and places the hand that's not clinging to mine over my stomach.
After a few seconds and I feel I've given them enough of my time I look away and bury my lips in my brats hair, covering the hand on my lower torso with my own, then once I feel they've had enough of him I drag us away. And once our backs are away from the seizure activators I have to blink a few times before my vision is okay again.
I look down at him and as all of what has just happens starts to make sense I finally come to terms with what is only now very shocking.
I am in a public, long term relationship, with a pop star.
And what scares me even more?
Is that I think I might actually, possibly, maybe, love him.
A/N
Tell me if you think I should continue. I have some ideas for when the actual ceremony is taking place. Not sure though.
