The Far and Few Between – 3
Fingers tangled themselves into his rich hair, and he screamed, batting away the arms that tightened around him. Warmth was pressed against his neck and his chest, drips of moisture left in the attempt to disgust the boy. And then it came closer…
"Eiri help me!" he screamed as he woke up, covering his face. Shuichi looked around the empty apartment. All the lights had been turned off, the small plant in the corner cast small shadows on the walls from the early morning light. He sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, and planting small feet on the cold wooden floor. Looking around the room, he shivered, rubbing his hands together. Had Eiri turned the heat down?
His eyes caught sight of the ring that hugged his finger and shined softly, and it all came back to him. Eiri had left. And now he was all alone, where the nightmares could consume him.
Yes. The nightmares. It had been so many months ago that Eiri had admitted to Shuichi that he could no longer tell the vocalist that he couldn't understand what the author felt, and what he'd had been through.… the feeling of mistrust, the feeling of abuse, and the feeling of filth. And ever since Shuichi had encountered Aisawa.. he felt just that. Filthy.
He wouldn't touch Eiri for days after that. Finally an explosion one night on the author's behalf pushed the cotton-candy haired boy back into his arms and into his bed. It was something they shared, that feeling of helplessness that they grew stronger on together, surviving, and existing with the single purpose to love each other the best they could and fight the battles that plagued their happiness.
But then the nightmares began.
Because Aisawa never really went away. Neither did the media. Ever since Eiri's public announcement, they'd constantly been around, checking up on Eiri's new work and trying to catch a glimpse of the passionate lovers at play, watching tv, and even just working. Yet it seemed for months that Shuichi still looked over his shoulder for the other vocalist, and refused to go anywhere alone.
Not that Eiri would have let him.
A personal body guard, he'd become. It seemed stupid at times, but for the screams released from the boy in his sleep and the silent cries periodically during the day, Eiri felt it was his duty. He couldn't deal with the lyricist making noise, yet in this sense, he'd rather hear the garbled screams and laughter than hear sobs wafting into his study because Shuichi was too nervous to walk in for comfort.
His personal mission to help his lover to recovery.
And although it seemed to end so long ago, and Aisawa disappeared after his two unnerving visits to the apartment, the nightmares still remained. On nights when Shuichi was alone or feeling particularly insecure. And Eiri couldn't stand it.
The sound of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts, and he rose quietly, a pink eyebrow rising as he padded across the room, and peered through the tiny hole in the door. Who could it be? He didn't recognize the men on the other side. He took a step back, fear washing through him, and he closed his eyes, remembering events from earlier times.
"Anou… can I help you?" he called out through the door, his fingers lingering on the doorknob.
The man looked up and widened his eye a little, peering into the small piece of glass. Shuichi took a step back as a piece of paper was thrust up towards the looking-glass. "Hai! We were sent here to move the furniture, remember? We need you to fill out some paper work, and…"
The man never finished his words as the door was flung open, and Shuichi stood before them, arms folded tightly, a pure look of hatred radiating across his face as he stood in the doorway. So it was true. Eiri was truly leaving him. Yet sadness was the furthest thing from his mind, as two men pushed past him, and looked around the room. "Everything looks packed enough, let's get started…."
Shuichi turned and looked at them incredulously. "Anou, I…" He scowled as items were picked up and roughly placed in boxes. "Er.. HEY!" he shouted. "Stop, I don—" he waved his fists at them but just let his words trail. It wasn't doing him any good wasting his already itchy voice.
"Are you… Seguchi Tohma?" The man asked, looking up from his clipboard and raising an eyebrow at the young boy.
Tohma? Why would Tohma…. He shook his head ignoring the question and decided to answer. Maybe he could find Eiri this way. "Hai… Hai, I'm Seguchi Tohma, now, wh--" He stopped speaking as papers were shoved under his nose, and a pen was jammed in his fingers.
"Fill these out."
Blinking, he sat down at the stool and leaned over the counter looking at the paper. His eyes scanned over an address written at the top. It was on the outskirts of Tokyo… about thirty minutes from here. Tapping the edge of the paper with the pen, he shifted his gaze to look up at the man who continued motioning the others to work. "Anou… this is where it's being moved, right?"
The man looked at him and nodded before turning around. "That's right, what.. are you done?"
Shuichi nodded, scribbling his signature at the bottom of the paper. Snatching the pink copy, he handed the other two back to the man and nodded. "Thank you very much. I need to go now, I'm sure you can show yourself out! Thank you!" he cried, and skidded to the door, grabbing his backpack. "Thank you!" he piped again, and darted out the door clutching the bag and the pink paper tightly.
The man shook his head and rested his hands on his hips. "Man.. kids these days are getting weirder and weirder."
* * *
Blue smoke rose slowly to the ceiling. It was about the time Tohma should be arriving at his house to pick up the papers and make sure everything had been moved appropriately. He exhaled, watching the dark smoke rise higher. His thoughts drifted to how his young lover had slept the night before. It had only been two nights before he left that Shuichi had had another nightmare. It was one of the worst ones yet. The magenta-haired vocalist had screamed for nearly an hour, and then nearly hit the author in his attempt to get close enough to console him.
Eiri had no idea what could have brought it on.
And then he had left the bedroom to make Shuichi some tea, in an attempt to make him calm down and sleep again. And he saw the magazine that laid carelessly out on the coffee table. The vocalist was pictured on the cover, and there had been a long slash where the cover pictures split… to one of Aisawa.
And it all made sense.
He remembered flipping open the pages and NG had given testimony to all that happened in the pages, explaining ASK's sudden producer change, with reasons that consisted of differences with other produced bands and image alteration, and that NG hoped "He was as successful as he had been with NG." Leave it to Tohma to candy-coat a problem for the public after handling it himself. No mention was given to how Shuichi was effected, how BAD LUCK was coping, or how the media was treating the ordeal. It had been written off as if it was Shuichi's fault. It made him sick, and he ripped the magazine nearly in two before flinging it into the trashcan, and continued to make his lover tea.
That night, the decision had been made.
He shifted on the couch, and gently rubbed his stomach, remembering he hadn't eaten since last night. He'd barely touched the new story, and after contacting his publisher with his new phone number and address, requested a two week extension so he could "get properly adjusted to the surroundings".
Little did they know how much adjustment was yet to be done.
He flipped through the phone book, and settled on a small Thai delivery to get food. He usually cooked for himself and stuck to traditional Japanese food, but for the evening, this was what he was in the mood for. Pushing the buttons on the phone, he quietly placed an order and hung up, dropping it onto the floor beside him as he took another long draw from his cigarette.
It was to be a long night.
* * *
Tohma hurried up the stairs and frowned when he reached the level to Eiri's apartment. For movers, they were being extremely quiet. Almost…too quiet. As he rounded the corner, he saw a dim light filtering in from the doorway, which had been left open a crack. He grasped the door handle and pulled it open, and gasped in shock.
He was too late. The house was empty.
Looking around, he walked in and climbed the two wooden steps that led to the large tv room. He looked down at the yellow sheet of paper, which had been carelessly left on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, and glanced it over. A signature which was highly unreadable had been scribbled at the bottom, and the final sheet which should have been included was missing.
The answer was obvious of course. It had been from the minute he saw the paper.
Shuichi.
* * *
The doorbell rang and Eiri cracked open an eye, and peered at the oak door from where he sat. That was extremely fast service. He'd have to buy from them again, if they were any good. "Hold on." He called and walked around the length of the counter, looking for his wallet. Upon its retrieval, he walked over to the door, and unlatching it, he took another long drag from his cigarette as he opened his wallet.
"Alright, how much will it be…." his voice trailed off as his eyes rose, meeting the sorrowful violet gaze of Shuichi. The cigarette slipped from his lips and fell carelessly to the ground along with his wallet that had been fumbled and not caught.
"Shuichi…" he whispered, and stepped back, surprised. Dammit, Tohma couldn't do anything right, could he? The boy stared at him with tear filled eyes, and clenched fists. Golden eyes glanced him up and down once, and settled on the ring that hugged the lyricist's finger. Relief flushed through his body and was visibly seen by his facial expression, but was quickly replaced by anger and he stepped forward, scowling at the boy.
He couldn't think of the right words to say, and he shifted his gaze. He just couldn't look into the deep pool of his lover's amethyst hues without feeling guilt. Turning around, he folded his arms, and closed his eyes, exhaling softly.
"Shuichi… why are you here? … More importantly.. how did you get the address?"
Everything had been ruined. Ideas destroyed beyond repair. Damn him and his deep love for the author. Damn him and his curiosity. But he shook his head. He may as well damn himself as well.. for his attitude and secrecy. Sighing, he held the door open and invited the boy in, closing it behind him and turning to face the young lyricist again. There was only one thing left he could do.
Explain.
Fingers tangled themselves into his rich hair, and he screamed, batting away the arms that tightened around him. Warmth was pressed against his neck and his chest, drips of moisture left in the attempt to disgust the boy. And then it came closer…
"Eiri help me!" he screamed as he woke up, covering his face. Shuichi looked around the empty apartment. All the lights had been turned off, the small plant in the corner cast small shadows on the walls from the early morning light. He sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, and planting small feet on the cold wooden floor. Looking around the room, he shivered, rubbing his hands together. Had Eiri turned the heat down?
His eyes caught sight of the ring that hugged his finger and shined softly, and it all came back to him. Eiri had left. And now he was all alone, where the nightmares could consume him.
Yes. The nightmares. It had been so many months ago that Eiri had admitted to Shuichi that he could no longer tell the vocalist that he couldn't understand what the author felt, and what he'd had been through.… the feeling of mistrust, the feeling of abuse, and the feeling of filth. And ever since Shuichi had encountered Aisawa.. he felt just that. Filthy.
He wouldn't touch Eiri for days after that. Finally an explosion one night on the author's behalf pushed the cotton-candy haired boy back into his arms and into his bed. It was something they shared, that feeling of helplessness that they grew stronger on together, surviving, and existing with the single purpose to love each other the best they could and fight the battles that plagued their happiness.
But then the nightmares began.
Because Aisawa never really went away. Neither did the media. Ever since Eiri's public announcement, they'd constantly been around, checking up on Eiri's new work and trying to catch a glimpse of the passionate lovers at play, watching tv, and even just working. Yet it seemed for months that Shuichi still looked over his shoulder for the other vocalist, and refused to go anywhere alone.
Not that Eiri would have let him.
A personal body guard, he'd become. It seemed stupid at times, but for the screams released from the boy in his sleep and the silent cries periodically during the day, Eiri felt it was his duty. He couldn't deal with the lyricist making noise, yet in this sense, he'd rather hear the garbled screams and laughter than hear sobs wafting into his study because Shuichi was too nervous to walk in for comfort.
His personal mission to help his lover to recovery.
And although it seemed to end so long ago, and Aisawa disappeared after his two unnerving visits to the apartment, the nightmares still remained. On nights when Shuichi was alone or feeling particularly insecure. And Eiri couldn't stand it.
The sound of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts, and he rose quietly, a pink eyebrow rising as he padded across the room, and peered through the tiny hole in the door. Who could it be? He didn't recognize the men on the other side. He took a step back, fear washing through him, and he closed his eyes, remembering events from earlier times.
"Anou… can I help you?" he called out through the door, his fingers lingering on the doorknob.
The man looked up and widened his eye a little, peering into the small piece of glass. Shuichi took a step back as a piece of paper was thrust up towards the looking-glass. "Hai! We were sent here to move the furniture, remember? We need you to fill out some paper work, and…"
The man never finished his words as the door was flung open, and Shuichi stood before them, arms folded tightly, a pure look of hatred radiating across his face as he stood in the doorway. So it was true. Eiri was truly leaving him. Yet sadness was the furthest thing from his mind, as two men pushed past him, and looked around the room. "Everything looks packed enough, let's get started…."
Shuichi turned and looked at them incredulously. "Anou, I…" He scowled as items were picked up and roughly placed in boxes. "Er.. HEY!" he shouted. "Stop, I don—" he waved his fists at them but just let his words trail. It wasn't doing him any good wasting his already itchy voice.
"Are you… Seguchi Tohma?" The man asked, looking up from his clipboard and raising an eyebrow at the young boy.
Tohma? Why would Tohma…. He shook his head ignoring the question and decided to answer. Maybe he could find Eiri this way. "Hai… Hai, I'm Seguchi Tohma, now, wh--" He stopped speaking as papers were shoved under his nose, and a pen was jammed in his fingers.
"Fill these out."
Blinking, he sat down at the stool and leaned over the counter looking at the paper. His eyes scanned over an address written at the top. It was on the outskirts of Tokyo… about thirty minutes from here. Tapping the edge of the paper with the pen, he shifted his gaze to look up at the man who continued motioning the others to work. "Anou… this is where it's being moved, right?"
The man looked at him and nodded before turning around. "That's right, what.. are you done?"
Shuichi nodded, scribbling his signature at the bottom of the paper. Snatching the pink copy, he handed the other two back to the man and nodded. "Thank you very much. I need to go now, I'm sure you can show yourself out! Thank you!" he cried, and skidded to the door, grabbing his backpack. "Thank you!" he piped again, and darted out the door clutching the bag and the pink paper tightly.
The man shook his head and rested his hands on his hips. "Man.. kids these days are getting weirder and weirder."
* * *
Blue smoke rose slowly to the ceiling. It was about the time Tohma should be arriving at his house to pick up the papers and make sure everything had been moved appropriately. He exhaled, watching the dark smoke rise higher. His thoughts drifted to how his young lover had slept the night before. It had only been two nights before he left that Shuichi had had another nightmare. It was one of the worst ones yet. The magenta-haired vocalist had screamed for nearly an hour, and then nearly hit the author in his attempt to get close enough to console him.
Eiri had no idea what could have brought it on.
And then he had left the bedroom to make Shuichi some tea, in an attempt to make him calm down and sleep again. And he saw the magazine that laid carelessly out on the coffee table. The vocalist was pictured on the cover, and there had been a long slash where the cover pictures split… to one of Aisawa.
And it all made sense.
He remembered flipping open the pages and NG had given testimony to all that happened in the pages, explaining ASK's sudden producer change, with reasons that consisted of differences with other produced bands and image alteration, and that NG hoped "He was as successful as he had been with NG." Leave it to Tohma to candy-coat a problem for the public after handling it himself. No mention was given to how Shuichi was effected, how BAD LUCK was coping, or how the media was treating the ordeal. It had been written off as if it was Shuichi's fault. It made him sick, and he ripped the magazine nearly in two before flinging it into the trashcan, and continued to make his lover tea.
That night, the decision had been made.
He shifted on the couch, and gently rubbed his stomach, remembering he hadn't eaten since last night. He'd barely touched the new story, and after contacting his publisher with his new phone number and address, requested a two week extension so he could "get properly adjusted to the surroundings".
Little did they know how much adjustment was yet to be done.
He flipped through the phone book, and settled on a small Thai delivery to get food. He usually cooked for himself and stuck to traditional Japanese food, but for the evening, this was what he was in the mood for. Pushing the buttons on the phone, he quietly placed an order and hung up, dropping it onto the floor beside him as he took another long draw from his cigarette.
It was to be a long night.
* * *
Tohma hurried up the stairs and frowned when he reached the level to Eiri's apartment. For movers, they were being extremely quiet. Almost…too quiet. As he rounded the corner, he saw a dim light filtering in from the doorway, which had been left open a crack. He grasped the door handle and pulled it open, and gasped in shock.
He was too late. The house was empty.
Looking around, he walked in and climbed the two wooden steps that led to the large tv room. He looked down at the yellow sheet of paper, which had been carelessly left on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, and glanced it over. A signature which was highly unreadable had been scribbled at the bottom, and the final sheet which should have been included was missing.
The answer was obvious of course. It had been from the minute he saw the paper.
Shuichi.
* * *
The doorbell rang and Eiri cracked open an eye, and peered at the oak door from where he sat. That was extremely fast service. He'd have to buy from them again, if they were any good. "Hold on." He called and walked around the length of the counter, looking for his wallet. Upon its retrieval, he walked over to the door, and unlatching it, he took another long drag from his cigarette as he opened his wallet.
"Alright, how much will it be…." his voice trailed off as his eyes rose, meeting the sorrowful violet gaze of Shuichi. The cigarette slipped from his lips and fell carelessly to the ground along with his wallet that had been fumbled and not caught.
"Shuichi…" he whispered, and stepped back, surprised. Dammit, Tohma couldn't do anything right, could he? The boy stared at him with tear filled eyes, and clenched fists. Golden eyes glanced him up and down once, and settled on the ring that hugged the lyricist's finger. Relief flushed through his body and was visibly seen by his facial expression, but was quickly replaced by anger and he stepped forward, scowling at the boy.
He couldn't think of the right words to say, and he shifted his gaze. He just couldn't look into the deep pool of his lover's amethyst hues without feeling guilt. Turning around, he folded his arms, and closed his eyes, exhaling softly.
"Shuichi… why are you here? … More importantly.. how did you get the address?"
Everything had been ruined. Ideas destroyed beyond repair. Damn him and his deep love for the author. Damn him and his curiosity. But he shook his head. He may as well damn himself as well.. for his attitude and secrecy. Sighing, he held the door open and invited the boy in, closing it behind him and turning to face the young lyricist again. There was only one thing left he could do.
Explain.