A/N: Woo. I felt like updating. Here you go! Big thank you to Quatre Winner for suggestions as to how to start the chapter. :D
mystlady and Lunaris Rinrei Hikari, thank you for your reviews! Yes, this will end in DuoxRyuichi. :D
Disclaimer: Me no own GW/Gravi et al.
Warning: Shounen-ai hints.
Strolling out in his paint-splatter long-sleeved T-shirt and ripped cargo pants, Duo scowled at yet another fast-food joint that had thrown him out and stuffed the few hundred dollar bills he'd earned into his pocket irritably. Buggers. I really need to watch my mouth... He shivered. God, it's freezing.
Covering his hands with the ends of his sleeves, he flipped his braid behind him and turned his back to the store, stalking down the street and getting a kind of twisted enjoyment from seeing people move out of his way. He had heard wintertime in Los Angeles was mild but 12.8 centigrade temperature was breaching his cool tolerance to cold. Ambling around in this city in California, a state within the former United States, which had been dissolved into the Earth Sphere Unified Nation like the rest of the world's countries after the war, he didn't know what he exactly expected. He wanted to head to the colonies, but it was too expensive to live there. He had been living around this continent for the past six years, moving from job to job. Time seemed for him to move both agonizingly slow and quick. He was getting old. Maybe I should have started up that scrapyard business with Hilde like she suggested..
Hearing screeching and reacting in a wince, he turned to the source of the noise. A karaoke bar in 'Little Tokyo'? He snorted. Geez, can't stop thinking about who you left behind in Japan, can you? This is pathetic. Duo paused staring at the entrance. He had nothing better to do. Hell, why not. As good a place to hang out as any. Not like I'll be able to do that again anytime soon. Too short on cash.
First, a cheerful look set on his face out of habit and then he wandered in, taking a seat at the bar, and requested something cheap. It was hardly a moment after sitting down that his attention was caught by the nails-on-chalkboard singing on stage.
His drink was just as a poor-quality as the singer, who completely mutilated AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell'. Cats howl better than that...Grimacing, he downed the shot in one gulp hoping the varnish taste would distract him enough to ignore his ears.
After the fourth shot, he was feeling quite nice. There was a pleasant damper on his ears, and Duo waved off the bartender's offer for another drink, feeling tipsy enough. Hmm. Somewhere between the time he was taking shots and the time he waved off the bartender, a man had been jabbering away at him nonstop. He hadn't paid him any mind at all, only glancing at him by mistake. The latest screecher walked off the stage, and the person with obnoxiously black-framed glasses jabbed at him to try it out. Duo shrugged. Why not? S'not like I'm great at anything, but killing.
He walked up and snatched the mic from its cradle before the other person did, who decided it was best to get off the stage by the look on his face. Winning the who-gets-the-microphone challenge, Duo looked through the song database for something he actually knew the words to, and something that fit the nostalgic setting of Little Tokyo. He found what he wanted and selected it. He knew 'Illusion Illness' by Gackt since he had gained alot of fame in the past few years, of course, but the question was, could he remember how to sing it half-drunk?
As the string instrument strummed lowly and hauntingly and an eerie tempo began like a musical box, he swayed some, closing his eyes and taking a soft breath.
The clicking inserted itself and marked where he should begin, his rich tenor voice filled the room at the right time, and the patrons stopped talking to listen. Duo shut out the rest of the bar and just sang, pouring everything he felt into his voice. His depression, his frustration, his unrequited love… The instrumental track only punctuated and accentuated his relaxed, somber voice. Whispering at key moments and gazing at a single person as if speaking to them, he paused for the instrumental as he swayed. His movement was about as stiff as a wind-up toy, though the alcohol made him too loose for that, then at the peak of the music he began singing again. This time venting anger into it appropriately. A barely heard "tsuite oide" ended the song.
Before the rest of the track could finish, a resounding applause hit him like a clap of thunder and a few whistles were thrown his way, even. Duo bowed with a flourish and handed the microphone over to the woman he had glared away. She started singing as Duo went back to the bar to pay his tab.
Annoyingly the glasses-and-formal-suit-wearing person was fluttering around him blubbering incoherently as he was quite smashed, and had paid his tab. Muttering his gratitude, Duo ignored him and walked out, disappearing to his crammed, sparse one-room apartment, and crashing on the couch.
--
Sakano couldn't believe his good luck at stumbling on raw talent like that in a starkly culturally different part of the world than he was used to; by happenstance he came to this place to relax himself in memory of the city he left.
However he lost him! He tried to catch the petite braided youth who ambled out sometime during his happy babbling about possible employment of such a remarkable voice….
He didn't even know his name or his address! They never exchanged business cards.. must be because he was the producer of Bad Luck for the NG Production Company. Bad luck always seemed to follow him after serendipitous events.
--
"Duo!"
The wind picked up and he shivered; he didn't even glance back at his long-time friend. "No, Quatre, I won't take your charity. Stop asking."
"But Duo, there's a job for you!"
His breath frosting on the air, he finally looked back with scathing intensity, not bothering to look beside his best friend knowing that Trowa was there. "I can take care of myself without anyone's damn help thank you very much. I'm thirty-two, not some damned eight-year old."
"It's a secure job opportunity, don't you want to not worry about—"
He sighed. "Subject dropped. Just let it go Qat."
With that he walked away far enough so he couldn't hear them, thankful that they stopped walking after him. He was tired of Qat's wheedling. Tired of everything.
Tearful, he crossed his arms at the chilly wind of Seattle that hit his back and flung his hair up, tilting his head up to watch the dull dead gray winter sky as snow spiraled through the air with a weary grin.
What was he going to do now? He had fled to Seattle, using up all of his money, out of paranoia after knocking unconscious a tall grinning, AK-47-clad, long-haired blonde that had showed up suddenly at his doorstep. He supposed he'd vanish until whoever wanted him stopped hounding him.
Livin' like a hobo ain't gonna kill ya street rat, buck up. We'll make it.
--
Quatre dropped his hand and smiled sadly as he'd always done before, even if he disagreed with Duo's pride.
"If he needs us, he'll call." Trowa stood behind him acting as his center. His anchor when others' pain got to be overwhelming.
The blonde-haired man held a hand to his chest.
"I hope so. He's hurting so bad that I feel the sting every time I see him without trying. I want to stop that pain, but ever since..."
Trowa shushed him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "We have to go."
The teal-eyed man nodded and stepped into the limousine that stretched up behind them. He took one last glimpse at the black-clothed back and thick brown braid before the door closed.
--
"Awwww! But I wanna stay, I wanna stay!"
People ignored the seemingly obnoxious teen that ranted childishly on his cell.
"Tohmaaaaaaaa!" Huffing a whiny assent, Ryuichi pocketed his phone; with a loud sigh and a flap of his hands he made his way down the road towards his apartment to pack.
He guessed it was important if his fellow ex-bandmate told him to hurry home to Tokyo (again) as if once wasn't enough. Though the first time wasn't so bad, he met and got to sing with Shu-chan, and all his sad thoughts could dissolve being near the brightly energetic boy.
Ryuichi idly wondered what could get Tohma to call him back less than four months after his parting. Shrugging to himself, and babbling about the wonderful weather to Kumagoro who listened patiently on his bed as the sunlight streamed in and glinted off the small undecorated encircled-cross still hanging from the ribbon on which it was placed.
He wanted to be known for his singing all across the world! His hands stilled once he was done filling his sparse bags of clothing. America was a big place, too. Russia was bigger, but it was too cold for him! Brrr.
Maybe he was supposed to meet someone? Tohma had tried to entice him with Shuichi after all. Y'know 'cause Tohma had this thing for Eiri Yuki and Shu-chan did too… but Shu-chan was a groupie and always would be. "A sad, sad thing, huh Kumagoro?" He would never see me.
"Oh well!" Slipping on his large shoulder bag and grabbing Kumagoro by his neck, he headed to his door, but it opened itself. Mr. K stepped in. "Kei!" The thirty-some music idol glomped the tall American-born employee of NG Productions. K tensed up like Ryuichi had hurt him, so the idol pulled away, just now seeing that K had a blackeye and an arm in a sling. "What happened! Someone beat you up, Kei?"
"You could say that" was the gruff response from the usually hyperactive blonde.
"Aww.. I'll make you some soup to make you feel all better!"
"No thank you, Sakuma-san. We need to go-- now! We have a date to keep." Suddenly the hyper K was back and grinning, dragging Ryuichi across the floor, bag and Kumagoro and all.
"O-kayyy." He replied cheerfully, hugging onto his pink stuffed bunny.
