A/N: Unfortunately, my beta has been having computer problems, so I am unable to have her advice before putting up this chapter. I think this chapter so far was the hardest one to write, because there are a couple of different things going on here. You guys got a big clue last chapter :) That's why all the updating is slow. I also changed the story title to Requiem, since it sounded better.
To those who are favoriting this story, I sincerely thank you. I want to know why you guys love this story so much, and what I can do to make my writing better or what about it you like.
Legalities: Gravitation © Maki Murakami; Tomoko Hanren, Arlena, hospital staff and Marian Tamika © Elizabeth Marion Whittaker.
PS: I am seriously thinking of trying to contact Maki Murakami to see if I can get these two published as a story. I've always wanted to write. Of course, that would mean really polishing up Protection before I even did that. Does anyone know how to contact Ms. Murakami? I can't find anything online.
Chapter Three
Doubt
Once again, he was writing as he was waiting for that damn brat to wake up from all the medicine that he was still taking. Eiri wondered whether or not he would actually come in here and bug him, like normal. It was asking a bit much, he thought—but it helped that he got to see him last night.
Well, what was left of yesterday, anyway. He did not want to remember that day, where he picked him up from the hospital. Nonetheless, he knew that he needed to eventually talk to Shuichi about everything—the accident, what he was doing at the studio that day, and what happened with his brother, Tatsuha. Eiri decided that he would really stick to his threat this time. Anyone who takes my boyfriend without my permission is seriously going to get their ass beat, except Nanako. That man is just scary in itself.
Wait, did I just call him my boyfriend? Aw, shit. This is just as bad as when I announced to the world that I was gay, with a smile. Hello, Japan.
I guess . . . it's not so bad—there could have been worse things, like losing Shuichi forever.
Thinking about it now bothered him as he was trying to work; but what was bothering him the most was that his personal experience was bleeding into his new romantic work. Eiri just glanced at another few pages he started typing of a new story and sighed. Another one I've wasted my time on, he surmised. Really, maybe I need a vacation. I should really take it and just spend time focusing on—
What am I saying? Someone's got to pay the rent on this place, as astronomically high as it is.
Picking up the first page, Eiri bypassed the title and put the page behind the rest of the papers. Exhaling his cigarette, the novelist put on his glasses and began reading the first part of what was written.
You never know what you have lost until it almost disappears.
At least, that was what I was told when my sister first got married, and her husband slowly went away, little by little. She would always stop over whenever he stayed to work late, or make more contracts with potential clients and just bug me, telling me about her problems like I cared.
Well, of course I care. It's just hard for me to say I care, that's all.
However, when she mentioned how in love she still was with him, I would laugh inside. Many times, I would go out on dates with women, or those that thought they liked me—only to have them just be horrid people who did nothing more than gossip and worry about what color to paint their nails, or dye their hair. I never thought love actually existed.
Until I met him, I never thought it was possible at all. I never thought that I could hurt, that I could feel anything. When he threw me away for something material, that hurt even more. It hurt so badly that I was not sure if anyone was worth trusting again—worth putting all that effort into.
I became someone who hid within themselves, trying to see the world as a black and white kind of picture, without any sort of grey or medium in it. I had done that for a few years—had a few women here and there—
Then I met him in a park, as I caught a piece of paper in my hand, and looked at the shittest lyrics I had ever seen. Who would come up with this crap, I thought to myself. No one could really think that they would be worth something if they wrote like they were in secondary school.
But when he came to meet me, I was surprised by how much self confidence he had while I was insulting his livelihood all the while.
After that encounter, I knew it was fate. I never believed in it—but when it is your own that is affected, you think you can always fight it, and change what is supposed to be.
I did that—and I almost wish I hadn't.
How did I know that this little brat who had suddenly sauntered into my life would stay there, not allowing my own anger and pessimism to drive him away? I seem to recall moving on him many times, but he was like silly putty—just keep bouncing back, no matter what you threw at him.
By now, I should be used to it. But when it changed, I seriously began to get worried.
From where he was sitting, Eiri just looked at it, letting the words that were read hit him. This was not just some cheap romance novel, about stale, stoic characters. This was something that was vivid and real. This was something that actually had happened to him. He could see how raw the emotion was, and how attached he had become in just the first page to the writings of this "so called novel". A smirk played across his face as he became intrigued that he could do this.
But, he did not know if he wanted to pursue it as his next newest novel. Somewhere, he knew that he wanted to actually continue, to see where this would lead. If nothing else, this may help promote their record sales. But do I really want to be that nice? His eyebrow raised at just the thought. "Now I know I'm going mad."
" . . . Yuki?"
Startled, Eiri almost dropped his papers as he turned around to see Shuichi at the door, his head peeped around the doorway. "Oi, don't scare me like that."
"But . . . I thought maybe you were out, or something. I didn't see you this morning." Carefully, the pink haired boy entered the sanctuary that Eiri had and just looked at him with those puppy dog eyes. "Are you busy today?"
"Yeah. You know—Mizuki keeps calling me about that deadline. Rather annoying." He blew some smoke out of his cigarette, which was almost gone. His fingers gently took it and put it out in a glass ashtray next to the monitor. "I have to put something out there, even if it's for a bit." Then he walked over to where the other padded through and just looked at him a minute. "I'll only be in here half the day, if that helps—"
" . . . well, okay . . ." Shuichi's head had bent down, as if knowing what the answer would be—as if nothing had changed at all.
Eiri sighed. "Look, if you want, you can sit here until I'm done—"
"Yuki? You don't have to be nice to me, you know?" His head came up and peered at Eiri. "I don't want—"
"Look, brat—come on." Eiri got up and left his manuscript the way it was, except he had pressed the command + s keys together to save it. Then he went to the door. "Oi. You coming or do I have to pull you out?"
"Ah . . ." Then, Shuichi caught on. "Yeah, I'm coming!"
"Good. I wouldn't want to tell you twice." Eiri stopped at the doorway and turned his head around to see him still standing there. " . . . why are you still standing there, brat?"
" . . . I just . . ."
. . . I can see what Tomoko meant, now abut the reassurance issue. I didn't want to admit that, though. He's usually so resilient. Even after Aizawa, he wasn't like this for that long. Maybe it'll pass. But Eiri had a feeling that it would be for a little while yet, and turned around to stare at him.
"Come here. We'll stay here, if you want. I was going to get some pocky, anyway. Between the time I spent in that damn room with you, and then sleeping—"
"You mean you didn't get any of your writing done?" Shuichi interrupted, looking even sadder than he was. Eiri did not think he could look any worse.
"It's okay . . . I couldn't write anyway, with everything going on."
Shuichi took a tentative step closer, amethyst eyes curious. It calmed Eiri, just a little. "So—what was the reason? It wasn't Tatsu and Ryu-chan, was it? I'm sure while you were gone—"
"I didn't come home."
A pregnant pause filled the air as the two looked at each other. Shuichi was tearing up at hearing the words, while the novelist had to look away. His eyes closed as he heard, "I—I didn't think you'd be waiting for me the whole time, you know? I'm sorry. I didn't meant to make you late with your deadlines and—"
"Shuichi."
The simple tone was enough to cut the boy off. It was not even that it was harsh, or guttural. It was that Eiri had said his name. "Y—Yuki? What's wrong?"
There was no answer. He had to look away before he caught himself in another torrent of emotions, things that he had tried to shun away. He still had not been able to completely compose himself after that appointment with Tomoko, and just seeing that Shuichi was more worried about Eiri than himself . . . It reminded him of what Tomoko had told him the day before.
"But, he's the first person whose seen the real you . . . the complete you . . . and has accepted you unconditionally. He's never tried to change you. If anything, you care about him for that reason alone."
The scrawny pair of arms that hugged Eiri made him remember why exactly he was here in the first place. "Yuki? What's up?"
" . . . nothing. It's okay, now."
For a moment, it really was. His devotion had not changed, even if Shuichi had managed to tone it down a notch. However, this was something that bothered Eiri a little bit. Some of his fun was gone. Tormenting Shuichi right now just did not seem right. So . . . what is?
"It just seems like you're being different, Yuki. You really don't have to pretend. I'm here, aren't I?"
"You almost weren't," Eiri shot back, suddenly angry that the tranquility of the moment was ruined almost instantaneously. "Why do I always have to look after your little ass, anyway? Wasn't K your babysitter that day? It's his fault that it happened to you, so don't go—"
"For god's sake, why can't you be honest just once in your life, Eiri?" The arms dropped away and the warmth that emanated from them was gone as Shuichi turned Eiri to look at him. "You know how you felt, but you rather show it to a dead man than to someone who's standing right there."
"Hey—"
"I'm tired of competing with a shadow. You want him so much, stop pretending to worry about me." Brushing past him, the boy slammed the door into the wall and then closed it behind him.
Damn it. I hate that fucking brat—why did I want him home, anyway?
Walking over to his desk again, Eiri looked at the keyboard, now totally losing his interest in trying to work. "Damn it, Shuichi. I didn't even mention Kitazawa this time." Still, he thought that maybe he was right, in some way. Eiri went to the door, slammed it open and felt where Shuichi had made the doorknob go though the wall and glared at him. But his anger subsided as he found the other one on the couch with his head resting against his knees. " . . .do you really think that I would do that to you?"
"You have been." Shuichi glared at him.
"Come on. I said I'd do something with you. I meant what I said, earlier."
Little knobby knees unfolded until Shuichi was sitting on the couch like a normal person again. " . . . about what?"
"Look," Eiri said, not wanting to get into this whole conversation, "I'm here, now. What do you want to do?"
"I want to know what you said, earlier."
As Shuichi was beginning to talk, they both heard the phone ring. It was a generic ringtone and Eiri glanced around. "Did you take your ringtone off that song you had it on?"
"I heard from Hiro that it was a good idea . . ." Shuichi glanced at his phone on the table near the couch and picked it up. "Hey, Hiro. Can I call you back?" Then, he paused. "Thanks." As he hung up the phone, he put it on vibrate. "Sorry about that. Now . . . what did you tell me?"
Eiri thought about it. "It wasn't important. It was at the time."
"Damn it, you're doing it again . . ."
"Hey, shithead. Didn't you want me to spend time with you, or argue with me about some dumb bullshit like mentioning his name?" Now Eiri was getting pissed. "Look, I'm going to get some beer, and some pocky at the store. Do you want to walk with me there?"
At the word walk, he noticed that Shuichi's lips curved in a small smile. "Sure. As long as it's not the car . . ."
"I said walk, dumbass, not drive." Eiri smirked as he said it. "I don't mind walking . . . every once in a while."
"Yuki?"
"Yeah?" How what does he want?
"Do we have anymore soda at the house, or did you hide it from me again?"
He sighed. "You want anything else, and I will have to drive, moron. I wanted you to come with me, not stay here."
Shuichi laughed and got up to take Eiri's hand. "You know, why can't you say that more often? I think I may be able to actually try to write some lyrics, now!"
Secretly, Eiri wondered if Shuichi would stay like this, and decided that he would not push his luck. He allowed Shuichi to keep his hand in his, and treasured the small moment.
Glancing at the familiar building that he worked at, Hiroshi Nakano sighed as he looked at where the letters N-G were displayed. A feeling of nostalgia overtook him, knowing that he could have never gotten to work for a fine studio without the help of his best friend, Shuichi Shindou. As the wind blew through his long brown hair, he wished that Shuichi was there with them, finishing up the last part of the album that they had left to do.
But, he also knew that the singer needed to recuperate from his ordeal with Tatsuha Uesugi and Ryuichi Sakuma. It was hard to think that it was only a week and a half ago that Shuichi had been in the hospital for getting into a major car accident. That was one of the worst days everyone at the studio has had to endure, including Mr. Yuki and Mr. Seguchi. I wonder how most of them are doing.
Walking closer to the building, he had put his hand over his eyes to cover them to see. The sunlight on that day was brutal to him. He had forgotten his sunglasses at home, since he had been out with his brother the night before. Then again, he did not think much of hiding behind a disguise such as sunglasses, like Shuichi's boyfriend, Eiri Yuki. He preferred a more natural approach. Then again, I do speed here on a motorcycle almost every day, so I don't have rabid fangirls after me.
He had made sure to get there a little earlier than usual this morning, since he was there to meet someone. Hiro was getting tired of calling Shuichi and not being able to talk to him, much less see him. However, he also knew that Shuichi had to face the music and deal with the other underlying part of the problem. Of course, while his lover was helping him get comfortable and recover from his accident, Hiro was also afraid that Shuichi would be too fearful to try to sing again. That would be a problem.
Shuichi Shindou was driven by music in the whole time that Hiro had known the pink haired boy. Shuichi was always reckless, stubborn and practically a flunk out in high school, but he had a certain charisma about him. He still does. I don't want anything to happen to him. After last week—if he's not talking to me—
I'm pretty sure he's not talking to Mr. Yuki, either. All Shuichi wants is to know he loves him, and that he is loved in return.
A sigh escaped his lips as Hiro had pulled out a pack of Marlboros that Yuki had loaned him. . . . how many did I borrow? I know that asshole is going to make me pay him back for the few packs he "loaned" me. But he took one out of the pack and had taken a lighter from his pocket as he put the cigarettes back. Then, he lit up the lighter and took a puff.
He heard someone behind him. "You'll kill yourself with that hobby. Smoking isn't good for you."
Hiro turned around and glanced briefly at the figure. His eyes turned dark at the sight of a dark brown haired man with a set of earphones around his ears, and two necklaces around his neck . . . and holding a pink stuffed bunny rabbit with a red bow. His black tank top and leather pants were not half bad—but Hiro made a huff and took in more nicotine. It felt rather nice. "Thanks for coming, Sakuma-san. Is that other guy with you?"
"I told Tatsuha to stay at home," Ryuichi replied as he took off his earphones. "I don't want to mess up anymore than we already have."
"Why are you the only one taking responsibility?" Hiro asked, rather curious.
"Because it's true, isn't it? I wished that it didn't happen, though."
"Shuichi won't talk to me. I don't think he's talked to Mr. Yuki about what happened. He's not answering my calls."
Ryuichi looked upset at that. "Maybe Shu's just sleeping."
"He picked up, but asked if he could call me back later. But, listen a minute." Hiro took a breath and moved some hair away from his face. Mr. Yuki got me into this bad habit of smoking again. My brother would have a fit. I quit social smoking a long time ago. I'll have to suck on lollipops to stop or something, if I keep doing it. "Ryuichi Sakuma, you are the reason that Shuichi chose to take up singing in the first place. The fact that you kind of did this to him is some sort of sick irony."
Ryuichi hugged Kumagoro close to him, obviously distressed. "I know . . . "
"So I wanted to know if you could come with me to visit Shuichi, since maybe he'd talk to you more than he would talk to Tatsuha." Hiro waited to see what he would say.
But Ryuichi just looked at Hiro and leaned against a car. "Why can't Tatsu-chan go? Shouldn't he have to do it as well?"
"And here I thought you valued Tatsuha's life, and forbidden manlove." Hiro grinned.
"I do!" Ryuichi proclaimed.
"Eiri Yuki would kill him. I want to know what happened to Shuichi, not to have your Tatsuha be beat up and another trip back to this place." Now, Hiro put out the cigarette and looked at Ryuichi. "I know you didn't mean for that incident to happen to him. However, I think that if you saw him, you could remind him of the reason that he chose to sing in the first place."
Ryuichi was lost in thought a moment. "I'd really like to sing with Shuichi again, Nakano-san. But do you think it's possible? Shu-chan might not want to sing anymore."
"If that's true . . . then I am putting all my blame on you, Ryuichi Sakuma."
Ryuichi just stared at Hiro as he ran a hand through his hair, getting some ashes out of it. "Come on, Nakano-san!"
"Why couldn't I blame you? You followed Uesugi-san's plan, which resulted in this mess. If Shuichi won't talk to me on the phone, then I guess he won't want to sing, either. I canceled practice today to be able to go see Shuichi. I thought you wanted to come, not run away." Turning around, Hiro started walking towards where he had his motorcycle parked. "And here I thought you were the one preaching that you had—"
"Nakano-san!" Ryuichi bellowed. "I thought—look, I love Shu-chan to pieces. I told Tatsu-chan that, I mean it. I wanted to fix things."
Hiro smirked as he buttoned up his jacket. "Alright, then we leave now, Ryuichi." As he walked again, his phone went off. It was Shuichi's singing of Spicy Marmalade as his ringtone. Pleasantly surprised, he picked it up. "It went according to plan, Ayaka. You know what to do. I'll bring Sakuma-san over."
"What are you talking about, Nakano-san?" Ryuichi asked as Hiro finished his phone call. "According to plan?"
Hiro nodded. "Yep."
"What's going on?"
"Fixing things. We're going to, no matter what it takes, Sakuma-san."
Ryuichi hugged Kumagoro tighter as he walked. "You all still have that passion, but it's weaker."
"Of course. We all love Shuichi. If Mr. Yuki wasn't with him, and went with Ayaka—I'd be with him. But, I'm not. So I do whatever I have to do." Hiro laughed a little. "He's been in my life forever. I'm not about to let him shut himself off now. I need him as much as Mr. Yuki needs him."
"And if—" Ryuichi asked as Hiro finally got to his motorcycle.
Hiro put on his helmet and sat down. "It will work. Shuichi has to bounce back, because then we can't be Bad Luck anymore. Really, it's what makes us work. Our resilience." He threw Ryuichi a helmet. "Put it on."
"I'm riding with you? It'll cover up my headphones! I need my music!"
"Not until Shuichi sings again. There's a bag behind you. Put it in those. I'm not taking anyone back to the hospital." Hiro's voice was cold. "If Shuichi doesn't sing ever again—I'll make sure your acting career is permanently on hold. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he sings again."
"Aren't you being a bit—"
"No. Someone has to protect Shuichi, when Eiri Yuki can't. I'm appointing myself that role, since Seguchi-san has his hands full. Get on." Hiro revved up the motorcycle and bought it to life. "I'd hold on, if I were you."
Ryuichi nodded as he put the helmet on and looked a bit upset as he got on and held onto Hiro's waist, driving off.
I hope he realizes the extent of those words. Without Shuichi, Back Luck won't exist. He loves that band more than life, and as much as Eiri Yuki.
Without Shuichi—there's really nothing to it.
I won't let that happen—not when he brought me back, and give me the happiness I've looked for for so long.
Tomoko Hanren sat at her desk again and sighed as she pulled out her appointment book, knowing that she forgot to give Eiri the card for the other therapist for Shuichi Shindou. She knew that the appointment the other day was by far the most productive since she had seen him in six months. Tomoko had not made that much progress since he had admitted that Shuichi had rejected his lyrics. They're very intricate people, she decided. I'm convinced that all creative people have bi-polar. However—I know that if Eiri could get away without seeing a therapist once for six months, he can do it again. It's not medication he needs—he needs to openly admit his feelings.
Though, that is kind of hard.
Her hands leafed through the file and looked over the notes that she had taken of Eiri Uesugi. She made it look like she did not take any, but that was what the audio recorder was for in her cracked desk drawer. If she took notes, he most certainly would not talk. The natural approach worked with all her clients. It was just one of the many things she did to keep her clients as comfortable with her as she could.
However, she knew that the file was considerably thicker, since she was told she could keep his manuscript of what he was working on. Why on earth would he tell me to keep this, when he was so secretive about his works before? That part she could not figure out.
Tomoko was about to look over the file when the door knocked loudly. Immediately, the file went back into the file cabinet and she locked the door to it. She knew who it was without even looking at the door. It was the same thing, week after week. "I thought I told you I was not privy to giving you information, Mr. Seguchi."
"Ahh, I see you found me out," Tohma said in a playful tone. "But you really should just—"
"I meant what I said about that Lysol, last week," Tomoko warned as she pulled a yellow bottle marked "Dandelion Fresh". "You're not going to scare me off."
"You say that every week," Tohma said.
"I got done playing bullshit with Eiri about 2 days ago. I'm not up for another round." Tomoko held the bottle out, as if she was putting a barrier around herself for protection. "Mr. Seguchi, I think that given the past few weeks—"
Tohma glowered at her as he lowered his hat. "So you're not giving me any information?"
"—I think that Eiri's finally gotten a breakthrough, of some sorts." She put her finger on the trigger button and smiled. "But interfering with your brother in law is not going to help things. This is something he has to deal with on his own."
He took off his purple and gray frilled trenchcoat and sat it on Tomoko's couch, as if not hearing her in the first place. "Doctor—I'm here because I sincerely want things to work. My attitude in the past hasn't been stellar—"
"Stellar isn't what I would call it. You're borderline between stalking and caring when it comes to Eiri," Tomoko muttered, still not convinced to put the Lysol bottle down.
"But in all honesty, I'm here to ask one question. Did you end up giving Eiri anymore drugs?"
Tomoko lifted an eyebrow. " . . . I told him. Goddamnit."
"Told him what?" The blonde was grinning. "What happened?"
The Lysol bottle was sprayed in Tohma's direction and he covered his nose. He gagged for a moment before he actually looked at Tomoko, glaring.
"Why are you spraying me for?"
"You're annoying me, and I certainly can't do what I want to do," Tomoko said with a smile. "I told him not to take that while he went to the hospital. But of course, does he listen?"
"Eiri is Eiri," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I just want to know what he's on, that's all."
Tomoko sighed. "You can ask him yourself, Mr. Seguchi. But while you're here . . . may I ask a few questions about this Shuichi Shindou I've heard a lot about the past few weeks?"
"Only if you tell me what you talked to Eiri about." Tohma wagged his finger at her.
"He's not a client of mine. It wouldn't break the confidentiality clause. Besides, something bothers me." The woman went through her desk and gave Tohma a card, making sure that had it in his had. "I'll just tell you this, then. Eiri said that he needed therapy after he got out of the hospital."
" . . . so it's worse than I thought," Tohma muttered. "I thought resilient Shindou-san would be able to bounce back. But it's like I feared." He looked away, a hand near his cheek as if in thought. He leaned back against the leather cushions and sighed. "Shindou-san is very . . . unique. Always doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants—and no matter what the consequences are. You could say it's what draws people to him."
Tomoko laughed softly. "I see. Of course, something this traumatic would stop a happy-go-lucky personality. Is that what is bothering Eiri so much?" She rose from her chair and sat the Lysol can down on the desk, where Tohma could see it. "Would Shindou be the type to come willingly?"
" . . . right now? I don't know. None of us but Eiri have been able to speak to him, really." He glanced at the can. "I really thought you weren't serious about that can."
She twirled a strand of hair. "Well, I think that maybe things will change soon."
"I hope you're right." He stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat, putting it on.
"Oh, and one more thing," Tomoko said, adjusting her glasses. "If you ever listen under the door again, I'll make sure that it's not Lysol that I spray underneath that door."
" . . . is that even legal?" Tohma asked.
Tomoko smiled. "I know you care, Mr. Seguchi, but trust me. Eiri'll be fine. That card is for him. I forgot to give it to him. I am not taking on both of them at the same time." She went to the door to open it and looked at Tohma. "I have an appointment in a few minutes, as entertaining as this was."
"Well, you actually gave me something useful, Dr. Hanren." Tohma took the hint and stepped out of the door. "I would suggest—"
"Just because this time went well doesn't mean we're friends, Mr. Seguchi. Goodnight." Tomoko closed the door as Tohma was about to retort something else. "God, I really need more than Lysol in order to keep him out. I'll talk to Eiri next week about fashion catalogues. He's right about Tohma's style." The woman walked back to her desk and grinned as she grabbed her phone. "Momo, is my next appointment here?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"Good, I'll come out and get her now."
"Alright." The phone went dead.
Tomoko thought of the manuscript and smiled as she went to leave her office. Oh, yes . . . I can tell how much of an impact Shindou has on you. It'll be your best novel yet, Eiri—since this guy seems to be the center of everyone's attention.
If Tohma Seguchi is after trying to get this guy better, then he must be good at what he does. Though, with him—I'm not sure what his motive is.
As Tomoko Hanren went to meet with her next patient, she only hoped she could be there to witness the phenomenon of her career.
