Hello everyone! This is the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I would to thank all the readers and reviewers who followed my story and supported me in the writing process.

Chapter 10 – On The Road to Perdition

The road to perdition is not a one-way street. While people start on that path when life deals them the wrong cards, they can also find an escape thanks to the unconditional love of their family, friends, and lovers.

Sunday 28 December 2008

In the wee hours of the morning, at the time when the creatures of the night dragged their exhausted body to bed, still smelling of cigarettes, sex, and alcohol, Yuki Eiri prayed. The former monk in training recited chants, pressing his Buddhist beads with all the religious fervor of his young days. He found solace and wisdom in meditation, which allowed him to bath in the purity and compassion of the words. Before the battle, warriors always took comfort in their self-imposed rituals calming, if for a brief instant, a roaring heart thirsty for blood at the anticipation of the struggle.

Eiri was ready to fight to take back what was his. Six years ago, he did not understand what he was up against but these past twelve hours had enlightened him and cleared away all the doubts and insecurities. Shuichi was sleeping fitfully sporting a deep frown as a constant reminder of his troubled state. To the writer, it did not matter because he knew there will be better days. He just needed to convince his former partner as well. Uncomfortable in the role of caring savior having always been the unwilling recipient of overbearing attention, he hoped Shuichi would go easy on him.

He knew too well the damages total despair could inflict on your self-esteem, but the singer had taken it to an all new level by turning to self-mutilation. As a writer, he had written about it to describe the extreme measure tormented souls would go to find relief, but this was happening to Shuichi not a fictional character. Trailing a finger on the uncovered scars, he sighed.

The call for nicotine once more made itself known. While he stood on the bedroom balcony filling his lungs with his cancer sticks, Eiri kept an attentive eye on the delicate singer, whose movement indicated his imminent awakening.

"Riku." The moment the frail voice reached his ears, golden eyes locked on the lithe form drowned in the crumpled sheets. After tiptoeing around the bed in case his imagination had played a nasty trick on him, Eiri looked down to meet confused, slightly panicked purple eyes.

"Good morning, Shu." Politeness was always better than his world renowned icy come backs.

"Water" Ready for the singer's first demand, Eiri handed him a glass. He could see by Shu's furrowed eyebrows that he was trying to sort out the events from last night. "How did I get here? Why are you here?" As the puzzles gradually fell into place, the adrenaline seemed to fuel the petite man who gripped the sheet as anger built.

Sitting back on the armchair, the writer resolved to avoid dodging questions. For both their sake, truth was going to be the best remedy. "You washed up on the shore. I came just in time."

"Is that so? You saved me but you could not do the same for a 6-year old." He snarled. Almost instantly, he paled at the harshness of his own words. "Eiri, I did not mean…"

The writer abruptly got up and left the bedroom. As weak as Shuichi felt, his guilt gave him energy but his leg failed him when he tried to stand. Shouting for Eiri to come back, he crawled to the door's threshold, reaching out for support with the frame. On his two shaky feet, he continued with great difficulty to the living room. "Eiri, I am sorry. Damn it!"

"Brat, I am in the kitchen. Calm down before you get a stroke." The writer came in and pulled a chair at the dinner table. "Sit down. The food will be served in a minute."

Submissively, the pop star did as he was told and in a blink of an eye, he found himself covered with a blanket. He hugged it taking comfort in the sudden warmth. "There is no food."

"Tohma had it delivered earlier this morning." The writer returned to the kitchen to delay the piece of information he had to eventually reveal. How did you tell a broken man that the reason of his guilt was unfounded?

"Seguchi-san knows? How? You told him?" The accusatory tone told Eiri that the singer still cared about appearances and wanted to keep at a distance the people who were concerned about him.

With two bowls of ramen in his hands, he sat down at the table across Shuichi. "I did not need to. We all knew. You did not return any of our phone calls, not even your sister's."

"Maiko…" His once upon a time expressive purple eyes, the doors to the human soul, vacated the premises. No pain, no joy, no struggle, no peace, they conveyed no emotions, just emptiness.

Not able to bear what they were telling them one more minute, the writer attempted to break the spell. "Eat, Shuichi"

"What for? I am not hungry." As a challenge, he pushed the bowl away from him and looked at his former partner, unwavering in his decision.

"Do as you please, but I am not going anywhere."

"Your boyfriend will worry." Eiri understood perfectly well what was going on, having a lifetime track record of isolating himself. He smiled. No matter what, Shuichi remained the Brat who was unable to implement a well thought out plan.

"Hiro and I broke up last night."

"Not on my account, I hope." The singer said sarcastically.

"It's always been about you."

Suspicions quickly replaced surprise, signaling a looming wrath. This had to be stopped before everything got out of control. "Last night, I was at Tohma's house and I learned that he had a video of that day." Eiri pushed the bowl in front of him. Palms on the table, golden eyes bored into purple ones. "I viewed it and what I saw made my stomach turn."

"Of course, it did." Knocking the chair down, Shuichi was trying to run as far away from this conversation as he could.

"Brat, don't act like an idiot!" The singer ignored him, slowly heading to the bedroom. "You had nothing to do with it. You told him to wait in the hallway. Sakuma is the one who gave him permission to go to the pool." Shuichi stopped in his track and stood still for what seemed like an eternity.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare blaming someone else for what I did, Yuki-san." Denial. It could have been worst.

"Your antagonistic behavior is not going to help."

"Anta… what?" Maybe curiosity or anger forced him to turn around. For a famous song writer, Shuichi's vocabulary was limited to say the least.

Steadfast, Eiri pursued. "I saw it of my own two eyes. I don't have the video now but when you are well enough, we can go to Tohma's and you can confirm my story."

Instinctively, Shuichi started massaging his arms, holding on to what he had known for the past six horrible years of his life. The mask was crumbling to uncover raw emotions. His body shook at the realization of the absurdity of his life or what he had made of it.

To renew the long lost connection, Eiri closed the distance between them and enveloped him to shield him from the self-loathing feeling threatening to overcome them both. "Cry, Shuichi. Cry." The tears damped the writer's designer shirt and decisive hands clawed at his back, probably leaving marks, but Eiri did not care.

"That can't be true. Sakuma would have told me. He wouldn't have let me offer myself to him. It's…" The unfinished thoughts, hiccups, sniffling, and whimpers were the notes of the song of despair and the writer was here to listen. The release of all the pant-up emotions mentally and physically weakened the already fragile singer. His legs gave out, but Eiri surprisingly at ease with his new role of supporter picked him up before he fell on the floor.

"You are exhausted." Back in the bedroom, he laid the petite man once more on the master bed and reached out for the bottle of pills on the night table. "Take this. It will make you sleep better." Compliant and without a question, the singer swallowed hoping somehow that it would keep at bay the nightmares and the monsters inhabiting them. The sobs would not subside though and continued to rack his body. Like that night in early March, six years ago, Eiri joined him to bed. With the shyness of a budding relationship, Shuichi slowly closed the distance to fit in the writer's embrace. Home. After many trials and fights, Shuichi and Eiri were finally at home with each other, striving for a peaceful stability. "I am sorry." The singer whispered, a lone tear ending its course on the sheet. A finger under his chin, the writer forced the singer to look at him. "I love you, brat. Everything will be ok. You are not alone anymore." Blinking to acknowledge he had heard him, Shuichi fell asleep with a small smile on his face, a promise to better days.

Edging on an unchartered territory, they were both creating their own path. Shuichi Shindou, broken and unstable, and Eiri Usuegi, who did not know a first thing about loving someone properly, were holding hands walking away from the road to perdition… for good.

The End

If you have any suggestions or comments, feel free to let me know. Quite frankly, I have thought about writing a sequel but for right now, I am satisfied with the outcome. Cheers!