DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies.
I hate concerts. I hate them all. I hate the screaming fans. I hate the loud speakers. I hate the stench of sweat and perfume that lingers in the air as a thousand teenage girls cram into the clubhouse to get a glimpse. I hate that I have to hide in the wings in case one of them should see me. I hate that I'm here at all.
The lights cue up and I slide a cigarette into my mouth, lighting it eagerly. One deep breath allows the nicotine to penetrate my bloodstream, offering me that one chance to find some calm amongst the madness. The opening band is on stage now. Some useless act that hasn't been signed yet. Sadly their lyrics are better than Shuichi's. Even more sad is that they'll never get anywhere with them. Sad that they're opening for Bad Luck. Sad that Shuichi's voice will outshine this kid's in an instant.
"Eiri-san," a voice says from behind me. I don't turn around, there's no point. Tohma lingers around me as much as that damn brat does. The difference is that he's much quieter. Taking a drag, I plan the delivery of my line with frigid indifference.
"I hate concerts."
"And yet here you are."
I can hear the smile in his voice and I can't help the slight upturn of my lips. Here I am, indeed. The truth is, nothing could keep me away. There's nothing like seeing Shu on stage. He once told me that music was more important to him than I was. It's true, every word of it. When the music starts, the Shuichi who loves me is gone. The irritating little shit who follows me around disintegrates and becomes something else entirely.
"Here I am," I whisper, my voice lost in the cries of fans as the opening band clears the stage.
I can feel Tohma's eyes on me. It's disconcerting and it pisses me off. He always watches me as though I'm about to break at any moment. I suppose that's why Shu is so refreshing. Shuichi could break me into a million pieces and not care about the consequences until the damage is done. Tohma just stares and stares, expecting the fracture to come clear in the spotlights. He never once considers that maybe I'd like to be broken.
"Hello Tokyo!" Shuichi's excited voice spreads throughout the hall.
He's still mine. Even now, as he jabbers to a crowd of hundreds. Even now, as he stands up there in the spotlight. If he saw me now, if I stepped out into the light, he'd smile widely and forget everyone else. It's tempting to do it. So tempting that I drop the spent butt of my cigarette on the ground, stamp it out and get ready to step onto the floor. So tempting that I forget that Tohma's there until his hand, small and delicate, grips my arm in fierce warning. I look at him for the first time to see that his green eyes, usually so warm for me, have frosted over. Here is not my brother-in-law, but the president of N-G. I can't help but laugh at myself. I nod to him and he smiles with cold precision. Tohma won't even let me compromise the concert of his top band. Bravo, Shu.
When my eyes make it back to the stage, I realize that I'm about to witness the transformation. He makes one more inane statement about his new song, the one he's been pecking away at all night, every night for the last week, and then he closes his eyes. It's as though time stops as I watch his hands grip the microphone stand. For a split second, the lights dance across the buckles on his shirt, illuminating the dull shine of his leather pants. Backlighting flashes behind him, outlining his lithe profile, and then...
It always happens so fast. The seriousness of his face when the music takes over is breathtaking. And his voice. God, his voice. I'll never tell him how incredible it is. I'll never share with him how absolutely shocking it is to hear those first notes when he opens his mouth. The wave of pride that washes over me at the same time is involuntary and it's mine – all mine. I'd like to say the same about him, but he's not all mine, is he? Right now he belongs to the music.
And the music is his to command. It's unbelievable that the snivelling, dependent brat I live with and this self-assured, sexy enigma on stage are the same person. What would I do if this was the Shuichi I brought home tonight? What could he get me to do?
The crowd is his, too. Everyone is caught up in a wave of Shindou Shuichi. Not Bad Luck, no, because they're just as mesmerized by his stage presence. This clubhouse belongs to Shu. In that moment, I hate it. I hate the beauty of his voice. I hate the way he moves on stage. I hate the way he pulls everyone in. I hate that he's pulled me in. I hate that even from this distance, I can see a bead of sweat trickling down his bare chest and it's driving me wild. Most of all, I hate what my mind comes up with when I see him, eyes penetrating and staid, moving around with such energy and confidence. I hate it because my mind reminds me that this Shuichi could leave me in an instant. This Shuichi could walk out on me. In fact, he already had once.
Song after song, I find myself hating it more and more. The way he flirts with the crowd, the way he ties them up with his music, the way he ties me up with his music. I try to hate the music – the idiotic lyrics and upbeat melodies – but I can't. I can't because I know that my Shuichi wrote them for me. I can hear every fight, every compliment, every night in his words. I find myself growing impatient for the end of the concert. I want the music to stop. I want my Shuichi back. Finally, I can't stand it anymore. I push past a shocked Tohma and stalk through the dully lit hallways backstage. The cream coloured walls clash glaringly with the fluorescent lights overhead. It's giving me a headache, but at least I'm protected from his perfect voice.
The music stops and I know that they'll have one more song. The encore. I put a cigarette between my lips and light it, pacing up and down the hall near the stage door.
"Eiri." Tohma's soft voice made me jump.
"What?" I snap. I didn't intend to, but I'm damn irritated waiting for Shu.
"Is everything alright?"
There he is, looking for the fracture.
"It'll be better in about five minutes," I reply softly. There was no point in masking it from Tohma.
My eyes met his, staying there for a moment before returning to my pacing.
"Shindou-san can have the morning off." There was that smug smile in his voice again.
Why the hell would I care? I roll my eyes at myself. Why the hell wouldn't I?
Finally the music stopped with a final deafening roar from the crowd. My heart began racing suddenly. What if this was the one time that the Shuichi who walked off the stage wasn't mine? What if it were those serious, confident eyes that met mine instead of the sappy, lovesick ones? What would I do if he realized that he didn't need me?
The door swung open and I spun on instinct, my heart still pounding madly. Shuichi stopped speaking mid-sentence and stared at me for a moment. His skin glistened with post-concert sweat and the afterglow of excitement clung to him. It was stronger than any aphrodisiac. But his eyes, were they mine? Time stood still until he sprang to life all at once.
"Yuki!"
His arms were around me before I had a chance to even react.
"I didn't know you were here. Did you see the whole concert? Did you? Did you hear the new song? Oh, Yuki I'm so happy you came to see me."
He kept yammering without ever considering that I might want to get a word in edgewise. I rolled my eyes at him to hide my sigh of relief. My Shuichi was back. It's difficult to fake irritation when all I wanted to do was scoop him up and take him home, but I'm a practiced actor.
"Get off me, brat. You smell like a pig."
Of course, he was unfazed. "Okay, I'll shower. I'll be right back, Yuki. Don't leave without me!"
As if I could. I watch him scurry down the hall, unable to fight my smile. I looked up to see Tohma, Hiro and Suguru staring at me with knowing grins.
"You know, it would make his life if he knew you came to every concert," Hiro said with a smirk.
I scowled at him and lit a new cigarette. Hiro shrugged and Suguru smiled a little wider as they began to walk away towards the dressing room. Tohma stood next to me in his quiet manner. Somehow his presence helped my heart come back down to where it needed to be.
"Why don't you tell him, Eiri?"
I shrugged and took a long drag. "There's no need for him to know. I hate concerts."