Game Over

~~ Chapter Two- Instant Replay ~~

There where many cases in which Shuichi would come to Hiro crying drunk off his ass and cursing his blonde lover. This would have seemed normal when the pink haired boy showed up at his studio apartment, but it wasn't a shit faced singer that had appeared before his door soaked to the bone shivering immensely holding a duffle bag.

The pink haired pop star fell to his knees burring his face in his pale hands. The open door gave the boy a heavily shadowed face, lights flickering as the thunder storm rolled closer. The rail pelted on the cement roof and tapped lightly onto the dirty window.

Hiro pulled the pop idol to his feet and wrapped his arm around the frail boy. He shivered as he could hear the ragged short breaths the boy was taking; the singer was shaking violently repeating the same words over and over again.

" Nani o Yuki...Nani o Yuki...Nani o..." Shuichi looked up with reddened violet eyes. He threw his arms around Hiro burring his face into the taller man's shoulder. His pitiful sobs wracked through the guitarist's body tearing up his heart. What ever that bastard had did to his best friend, he would get revenge for Shuichi, no to mention himself. Hiro had fleeting images of the snob of a writer hung by his toes over a pit of black widows and a little devil Hiro running circles around him burning him with the writers disgusting Alpha cigarettes.

The dark red head pushed all of those thoughts form his conniving mind out. And focused at the boy in front of him, he had clenched Hiro's shirt so tight in his fists that he began to bleed through the white cloth. The blood began to flow down his back staining the already tear streaked shirt. He was chilled, Hiro noticed this almost instantly. His body was thoroughly frozen. With out a seconds thought he pulled the singer into the apartment seating him on the couch and pulling of the boys soaked tee-shirt. Hiro wrapped a well worn out knit blanket around the boy.

"Sit, and stay. I'll be back with a cup of hot chocolate and some dry clothes for you." He said softly brushing away some of the tears that lined the puffed eyelids of the boy in front of him.

Shuichi starred at the half moon shaped cuts in his palm and thought back to what had started the whole...how would you say fiasco. It wasn't that he meant to anger Yuki, not like he did so often. He had been having troubles with the older man for quite some time, something Shuichi was used to. He closed his eyes and pouted, yeah he was used to fights with the writer, he wasn't used to being the instigator. He wasn't used to pushing Yuki over the edge and knowing why he had fallen. And he felt thoroughly pissed off with himself for ...for doing that to his lover.

He remembered when it had started, three months, two days, two hours ago, give or take a few minutes. It had been a rather, strained weekend. Him and Yuki were having a little bit of sexual tension. Things were not good, emotions were up and down, and some other things were down as well. It was this week that Shuichi realized that him and his lover were looking for two totally different things.

Even with tender kisses and soft loving touches, it was very evident what the blond man wanted from him. A fuck puppet, a doll to strip and play with, to tuck into a closet and ignore until he gets a hard on and decides to pull him out dust him off and strip him once more.

It wasn't as though Shuichi didn't like the sex, because believe him he LIKED the sex. Shuichi, he wanted more than just great sex, he wanted a love, not a fuck puppeteer. He wanted to be able to curl up next to Yuki and just have his head stroked while the taller man read the paper. He wanted to be able to make the writer smile at his stupid antics. He wanted to be loved back.

That was when Shuichi began to stay out at night, getting drunk with friends and dragging himself into Yuki's apartment at three in the morning. He would collapse onto the wooden floor and pass out. The first thing that Yuki thought was that Shuichi was an idiot, but that is the usual verdict from the older man. This had stopped when he had come home with a hickey.

That was a night he would not like to remember. He had gone out clubbing, a stupid choice seeing as how they had just released a new single and every body had their eyes on him, not to mention some hands. He had been drinking heavily for two hours, too shit faced for his own good, or any body within three feet. Shuichi hadn't noticed when a tall black haired man pulled him into the bathroom at the end of the black stone bar.

His memories of the bathroom were vague, a dirty blood tainted sink, a cracked graffiti smudged mirror, a toilet with caked puke on the seat and semen lined tiles, he distinctively remembered a phone number on a dented rusty stall door " For a good time call Crawd: 658-4679" But what he remembered most was the silence. That is was got to him at nights. The bathroom's silence, the lone cracked sink's tap was leaking, it echoed through the small room, bounced off of the stucco walls and wavered around the man before Shuichi. His sweat tainted smirking lips, spilling a slick blackened chuckle as he starred at the blushing pant-less singer. The wet lips smothered with the assailant's tongue, stroking the flesh with calm pleasurable thoughts. Thoughts of what he would do to the pop teenager in front of him. Thoughts of what he would do with the puckering ass and fine toned muscles.

That is what he remembered of the bathroom, the next thing he knew he was sitting in an alley way. His shirt was half undone and buttoned wrong, his hair was in shambles, his pants unbuttoned and ripped. And he was sore, he felt as if he was ripped in half then sown together with barbed wire. That was the night Yuki found the hickey, that was the night that Yuki had turned on the singer. Instead of bringing the boy to his bed as he usually gave into his emotions and did, he left him there throwing him a small blanket before returning to his duvet covered bed.

So it technically wasn't Shuichi's fault, it was that rapist's. But Shuichi still blamed himself. He still knew that if he had told the truth instead of ignoring the question at hand, he would be curled in Yuki's arms at that very moment. But, he didn't and after those last two or three weeks, his chances of coming clean were non-existent. Especially after the straw that broke the camel's back. A present, left by one of Shuichi's nightly visitors, an empty condom package moist and smelling of semen.

Now, you would think of Yuki as a careful man, somebody who would protect himself from STD's. But there is a little known fact about the author, he likes it la` natural, neither him nor Shuichi had used condoms during sex. So this, latex shield was an unwelcome intruder for the writer. It was the night after that that the singer had gone home to the writer and found all of his things boxed and stacked into a corner. The were clearly labeled ' junk ', taped up and obviously thrown together with out much care for concern for the contents of the boxes.

That was a nightmare; he remembered it all to perfectly. Yuki sat on the couch a glass of whiskey in one hand and a sub of a cigarette in the other. He stood putting out the cigarette and placing the glass down. The moon silhouetted his cold narrowed eyed face; the steel ice cold moon mirrored the ice cold blue eyes that burnt holes through the young singer's heart.

"Y-" Shuichi starred in shock as the blond slapped him. The pink haired boy rubbed his reddened cheek tenderly looking at the fired eyes of the taller man. " Yu-"

"So is he better than me. Can't stand monogamy so you wanted a fuck buddy? " Yuki pushed the signer into the wall slamming him repeatedly. " Who is he, that Nakano Hiroshi your so fond of? Or maybe you're just fucking random men now. You sicken me. I want you out of my house. Your a goddamn waste of time."

A waste of time, a goddamn waste of time...is that what Yuki really thought of him? It wasn't as if he wanted to be a burden to his love-...ex-lover. HE wanted to make the other happy.

"Shuichi" Hiro held out the clothes and the hot chocolate, but Shuichi well...

He should have told Yuki that he couldn't remember where he had been or what he had done for the past god knows how many days...should have told him that his body felt mutilated beyond repair, that was the reason that he didn't want to have sex with Yuki anymore.

" Shuichi..."

That he had thought the thing that where turning up on him and in his cloths were things left by a unknown assailant, by the man who had been torturing him, slipping him drugs and raping him, or maybe.... no, he was not going to think of that...Shuichi bit his lip and thought intensely. What if, what if he had done it willingly...what if...

"Shuichi..." Hiro shook him slightly lifting up the boys head." Daijoubu desu ka?" He pushed the cup in the boys shaking hands and looked into his eyes. " Shuichi what happened between you and Yuki. Tell me."

Hiro had a way with people, not like anybody he had ever known. He himself had a way with people; he always seemed to make them happy, unusually happy. Yuki also had a way with people he could scare them shitless with one look.

But Hiro was different. He could always get the truth; he could always let you tell him what exactly was wrong. And he would help, even if it were with just a tender hug Hiro would help. This is why Shuichi had befriended him, because in Shuichi land there was never a dry moment. He was very thankful of Hiro, he couldn't even begin to count how many times he had gone to Hiro in tears and wracked breath.

"I.... He.... Hiro!!" The boy flung himself into the arms of the other; the cup fell to the floor along with the close as he buried his face into Hiro's lap. Hiro began to stroke the boys pink hair