Chapter Two: Day of Remembrance
The faithful have betrayed before, why not betray again?
For trust be constant changing: first pow'r, next fear, and then-
Do you know your followers? How true do loyalties lie?
'Tis easy to judge a foe, but a traitor- I dare not try.
A friend ought to be reliable, but if they were proved not,
Would there e'er be a day when the past could be forgot?
--
Tohma stopped short of the front door just as it slammed in his face, a short burst of wind produced by the violent motion brushing against his smiling cheeks. It was like a practiced dance by now, his and Eiri's relationship, and Tohma could execute the steps in his sleep.
That was why he knew to stop and stand just so far from the door at just the right moment.
Through the thin wood of the door he was nosed up against, he heard the sound of keys dropping on a hard surface, a kick of something against the wall, and then silence. That was his cue to reach for the doorknob and ease it open slowly, inviting himself in without knock or ceremony.
Tohma would never point it out to Eiri, but he knew Eiri didn't want to keep him out due to the fact that Eiri could have easily lock the door to keep him out, but never did.
The smile on his face never faltered; he thought Eiri's little tantrums were adorable. Well practiced, determining which tantrums were real and which were artificial was a mere step and pirouette. Often, Eiri's anger was a defense mechanism, a shield, to scare people and keep them at a distance Eiri could feel safe and secure with.
Because Tohma knew this, he never let it hurt his feelings when Eiri shut up him out said cruel things. No matter what, Tohma would forgive Eiri anything.
Closing the front door behind him with a soft click, he followed the familiar trail down the hallway to the study, where he knew Eiri had vanished to the moment he stepped into his apartment.
This door too remained unlocked, but Tohma knew it would be suicide to open this one up; it would be wise to announce his intentions to enter and even wait for permission to be let in. The study was Eiri's safe zone. As weird as that might seem to people, being alone inside of this room afforded Eiri more peace than he could find anywhere else. Tohma would never invade that.
… Eiri would probably throw something at his head if he tried.
"Eiri?" he called through the door softly, placing a hand against the warm wood as he waited. Listening for a moment, his ears caught only a silence that was so thick he could feel it. "Eiri, you know he didn't mean it."
As much as Tohma hated to stick up for Shuichi, he was soothed by the fact that he wasn't doing it for Shuichi, but for Eiri.
It had been only a short 20minutes ago that the three of them had stood together inside of the NG parking garage. Since the raining season had begun, Shuichi had managed to 'convince' Eiri to pick him up every day after work so that he wouldn't have to walk through the wet weather. Tohma believed that Shuichi had used the excuse that the rain would make him sick, which would inevitably lead to many days spent in bed at home, during which time Eiri would be completely responsible for his well being. Determining the lesser of two evils, Eiri had relented to the fact that he would rather run out and pick Shuichi up every day rather than deal with him all day long.
The arrangement had worked out surprisingly well at first. Every day, Shuichi would leave work with Tohma at his heels, and every day Eiri would be waiting in the same spot. The moment Shuichi slipped into the car, Eiri would peel off and race away, barely acknowledging Tohma waving from where he stood. Unknown and unfortunate for Shuichi, this particular day was the anniversary of the worst day of Eiri's life. Naturally, Tohma already knew this, but how was Shuichi to k now? Eiri wasn't one to confide such things, no matter how much he dreaded to open his eyes, or how much his suffer could be eased if he just let the people around him help.
Eiri had a stubbornness and a penchant for suffering, so Tohma spent all day on the phone trying to get in touch with him. He called relentlessly, every spare moment spent punching numbers and listening to ringing that was cut short each time by the click and command of the answering machine.
Tohma left a message every time.
He wanted to speak to Eiri if only to let him know that he cared, that he was there if Eiri needed anyone even if Eiri could never admit to himself that he did. Tohma had no qualms against playing the doting, over protective role if Eiri could suffer to give in for one second and let Tohma stop those prickling little demons for moments at a time.
From the moment Eiri arrived, it was a steady spiral downward.
One second Shuichi was snuggling Eiri's side like a kitten who had been sure that he'd finally been abandoned as Eiri flung a cigarette butt away. Usually, Eiri was pretty good at tolerating Shuichi's rapacious affection, but today he was on edge and reacted severely to it. Tohma could see Eiri wasn't in the mood to be touched, but Shuichi could never see that. Eiri snapped at Shuichi and shoved him, which was still a fairly normal interaction between the two of them, as Shuichi's instantaneous emotional reaction. Eiri's poor mood made him more than a little less tolerant to Shuichi's sniffling, and to Shuichi's vehement declarations of Eiri's cruelty. When Eiri requested none too gently that Shuichi "shut the fuck up," Shuichi instead began to wail even louder.
Tohma's inward cringing had that moment coiled into helpless dread.
He tried to intervene to restore some semblance of normalcy between the tumultuous couple, and had remained un-phased when Eiri threw an insult at him. By this time, Shuichi was beginning to sense that something was different than normal. Eiri was always rough, always abrupt, but the tension in the air was dangerous.
They both knew that the more Eiri hurt, the more he tried to hurt them.
With tears still in his eyes, Shuichi inquired about Eiri's anger, but had received as a reply another low, "shut the fuck up."
But, Shuichi never shut up. Tohma didn't know he knew how to shut up.
In fact, he always did the opposite.
The tears began again, this time with another declaration that Eiri was the meanest and most thoughtless man in the world. Shuichi was being his normal emotional self, and he didn't think of the repercussions of telling Eiri that he never cared about the feelings of others.
That was when the car door slammed and Eiri's car peeled away, bright taillights vanishing in the distance. The two of them were left in silence, and Shuichi was too stunned to notice the accusatory gaze thrown at him by Tohma.
Still, Shuichi didn't know.
No one had ever told him that this was the day that Kitazawa had died.
Shuichi ran away to find Hiro to beg a ride home, and Tohma had immediately followed Eiri in his own car. This would at least give Tohma a few minutes with Eiri before Shuichi burst in begging Eiri's forgiveness. Tohma was even fine with speaking to the door as long as he knew Eiri could hear him from inside his private sanctum.
"Eiri, let me help you."
Nothing.
"Eiri… would you call me later, please? Or answer the phone when I call?" Tohma was so very worried. At home, Mika probably paced around, her hands itching to grab the phone and dial until she spoke to her brother or husband. When he got home, Tohma knew he would face an assault of questions from his wife, and he was almost regretful that he would be able to give her no comfort or answers.
Eiri made no sound, gave no promise.
With a sigh, Tohma stepped away from the door, slipping a few inches back down the hall. It pained him to know that inside of the room, Eiri sat in pain. He was in a world that no one could reach, so deep in his own personal hell that Tohma just couldn't dig far enough to pull him out. With every breath, Eiri sunk deeper. There was no helping him now; Tohma felt like all he could do was hold Eiri's chin up just above the waterline to keep him from drowning, but he still struggled on the brink.
He'd never give up, though.
There were times when the guilt in him was so great that Tohma felt like he was suffocating in it. Every time he looked at Eiri, at that closed expression and cold demeanor, his remorse peaked sharp and white hot. The "if only"s that poured through Tohma's head were enough to make sure he'd never resolve his own shame.
If only he'd known. If only he'd paid attention and seen the signs. If only he'd come home five minutes earlier. If only he'd listened better. If only he'd saved Eiri when Eiri needed him the most.
While his guilt threatened to do him in, Tohma would not give in to it. He had to be strong. He had to be the strength that Eiri had lost a long time ago and had never regained. If Eiri needed to hurt him to feel even a moment of peace, Tohma would lovingly take on himself every bit of abuse. Yes, the pain was worth it if it meant Eiri did not have to feel it. He would be Eiri's rock even if every day broke his heart into smaller pieces. It was the least he could do to make it up to Eiri.
TBC