Sleeping Beauty 7
"Well?" Shuichi demanded, fighting with the second zipper. His hair was drier now, and taken to standing on end in the most unflattering ways. The florescent light gave his eyes a more purple look and that they were narrowed, pink eyebrows drawn down like a ferocious pink fox.
Yuki had taken a step back, the stall door now at his back as he closed his own pants, and tried to tuck in the dark blue shirt. "Well, what baka? I can be nice to you if I want."
"Yeah," Shuichi snarled, leaving the zipper half way. Yuki could almost see the angry fox ear twitching in Shuichi's disastrous hair, "But when nice goes to the point that you'd rather screw me in the bathroom than protect your computer, when I'm that much more important than your writing, something's WRONG and you're not fucking telling me about it and that makes me ANGRY, Eiri! You promised! You promised that you wouldn't keep things from me anymore! So what is it? What's wrong? What's soooo scary that you're this relieved that I'm not hurt? What the fuck is going on?"
Wolves walked alone really well. Eiri opened the stall and crossed to the sink, washing his face he thought furiously for some way to explain, but still keep the details quiet, to explain and share, without touching the dark heart of his fear.
Shuichi though stood in the stall doorway, one hand on either side, a demon fox harassing a wolf and not caring about the size difference. "Stop it! Stop thinking about how to dress it up all nice, Eiri! I told you in New York that not even death could come between us, but you're doing it! At first it was that asshole mask you wore, acting like a perfect bastard half the time, and then, at the beach, we promised and you gave me your name and we promised, no more walls, no more hiding no more fucking head games."
Eiri spun then, his own eyes on fire, blue desperate love and fear. "Baka! Stop it. Give me time!"
"I've given you time, Eiri. I give you every moment of my life. I should have known something was fucked when you didn't call me for the last two days. Now are you going to tell me or am I gonna go for a walk and get some air so I can calm down a bit."
The pause hung in the air between them, the Neon and the Moon. "I'm writing book for you," Eiri said, rushed, words sticking to one another.
"And?"
He turned back to the mirror, studying them both in the mirror. "It was a gay romance. It was about you and me, about my real feelings, about learning to forgive and trust."
More frustrated than he had been Shuichi slammed the side of his fist against the stall door. "Come on, Eiri!"
"And I gave the outline to Sandra. She didn't like the whole idea, but I threatened to publish on my own. NG could back me, or I have enough money. I wanted the book to have the same status as my other ones."
"Okay," Shuichi said, crossing to mirror to stand close to Eiri, not close enough to touch, but close enough to be soothing to both of them. "And? Some fan write a scary letter? Remember the time I cried for days over that stupid picture that girl had photoshopped?"
"Yes, I remember, Baka," Eiri said affectionately, tiredly. "Someone broke into the apartment, took my own paper and rewrote the ending, printed it on my printer. And got it into Sandra's office in place of the real one. I think she about had a heart attack. I was afraid to call you, that who ever did this would find you. And Tohma wanted to take care of it all. He wanted me to stay in Narita."
"But you did message me, Eiri. You told me you'd be here."
"Baka, I didn't."
Then it settled in for them both. Someone who could send a message so much like Eiri, on a private cell phone number. "Oh, Eiri. You shouldn't have kept this from me. I need to know these things! What if that message had sent me somewhere else? You promised you wouldn't do this. It's just another way to put up walls, being all protective like this? Did you think I couldn't look after myself? That I'm really a baka? Nothing more than a stupid pink haired child?"
"No, Shuichi, that's not it." Eiri reached out to catch Shuichi's arm as he walked towards the door. He hated the emotions at times like this, closing off his throat and making his eyes burn. He couldn't lose him, this pink haired hyper singer, his pink fire! And the threat was real and horrible. The alternate ending to the book was too graphic, too painful and it had pushed al his buttons, scared him as deep as finally remembering what happened in New York. "Shuichi, please!"
"I need to cool off, Eiri," Shuichi said, hurt in his violet eyes. "I love you, but I just want a moment alone. Get your bag, I'll get my coat. I'll calm down, but right now, just leave me alone."
Eiri let his fingers fall back to his side, head bowed just a little. "As you wish."
Shuichi left the bathroom with just the slightest jingle of his zipper pulls and Eiri turned back to the mirror, to reamed out emotionally to really know what he thought.
The bathroom door had just finished closing with that little final swoosh they make when K screamed out, "No!"
Eiri ran to the door, jerking it open. K was on the far side of the terminal, gun already out. It was pointed at the odd little American from the plane, who was pointing a gun at Shuichi. Shuichi looked over his shoulder at Eiri, smiled in that comforting, nothing can get me way, and turned. The motion tracked through the air, the flair of his red vinyl coat, the clink of the zippers and Eiri realized the D rings at his wrists. For just a moment, the movement looked like he might be on stage, his mouth open and singing.
Sharp pangs of regret hit him. Shuichi had wanted him to come, to see the concert. It finally hit him then what the letters were at Shuichi's throat, S and E. The pop of the American's gun zipped through the air and Eiri ran. K's gun fired and the blond American screamed.
Fingers to his neck, to the dart in angry reddening skin, Shuichi, continued to turn, looking to Eiri as if he'd solve everything. Eiri reached him as he started to drop and caught him against his chest, one arm behind his back, one hand reaching for the dart in his lover's throat.
"Eiri," Shuichi whispered.
"Baka, hold still," Eiri commanded, testing to see if the dart was simple or barbed. "I'll take care of it."
"Eiri," Shuichi said, going limp against him, one hand trying to get a hold of his jacket, to hold himself up with, "Eiri, you're an asshole."
"I know," Eiri said, tears mixing between their lips as he kissed him. He dropped the dart and kissed with all his heart, as if he had to cross the whole universe, in just this next breath, had to reach into Shuichi's body and cover his Pink Fire with his own soul, to protect him at any cost. And still Shuichi dropped, lips fading soft, body sagging in Eiri's arms, the fingers trying for his jacket fell to the side and Eiri held his lover, clenched tight to his body. "Shuichi! Shuichi! SHUICHI!"
Author's note: This is not a death fic.
"
"Well?" Shuichi demanded, fighting with the second zipper. His hair was drier now, and taken to standing on end in the most unflattering ways. The florescent light gave his eyes a more purple look and that they were narrowed, pink eyebrows drawn down like a ferocious pink fox.
Yuki had taken a step back, the stall door now at his back as he closed his own pants, and tried to tuck in the dark blue shirt. "Well, what baka? I can be nice to you if I want."
"Yeah," Shuichi snarled, leaving the zipper half way. Yuki could almost see the angry fox ear twitching in Shuichi's disastrous hair, "But when nice goes to the point that you'd rather screw me in the bathroom than protect your computer, when I'm that much more important than your writing, something's WRONG and you're not fucking telling me about it and that makes me ANGRY, Eiri! You promised! You promised that you wouldn't keep things from me anymore! So what is it? What's wrong? What's soooo scary that you're this relieved that I'm not hurt? What the fuck is going on?"
Wolves walked alone really well. Eiri opened the stall and crossed to the sink, washing his face he thought furiously for some way to explain, but still keep the details quiet, to explain and share, without touching the dark heart of his fear.
Shuichi though stood in the stall doorway, one hand on either side, a demon fox harassing a wolf and not caring about the size difference. "Stop it! Stop thinking about how to dress it up all nice, Eiri! I told you in New York that not even death could come between us, but you're doing it! At first it was that asshole mask you wore, acting like a perfect bastard half the time, and then, at the beach, we promised and you gave me your name and we promised, no more walls, no more hiding no more fucking head games."
Eiri spun then, his own eyes on fire, blue desperate love and fear. "Baka! Stop it. Give me time!"
"I've given you time, Eiri. I give you every moment of my life. I should have known something was fucked when you didn't call me for the last two days. Now are you going to tell me or am I gonna go for a walk and get some air so I can calm down a bit."
The pause hung in the air between them, the Neon and the Moon. "I'm writing book for you," Eiri said, rushed, words sticking to one another.
"And?"
He turned back to the mirror, studying them both in the mirror. "It was a gay romance. It was about you and me, about my real feelings, about learning to forgive and trust."
More frustrated than he had been Shuichi slammed the side of his fist against the stall door. "Come on, Eiri!"
"And I gave the outline to Sandra. She didn't like the whole idea, but I threatened to publish on my own. NG could back me, or I have enough money. I wanted the book to have the same status as my other ones."
"Okay," Shuichi said, crossing to mirror to stand close to Eiri, not close enough to touch, but close enough to be soothing to both of them. "And? Some fan write a scary letter? Remember the time I cried for days over that stupid picture that girl had photoshopped?"
"Yes, I remember, Baka," Eiri said affectionately, tiredly. "Someone broke into the apartment, took my own paper and rewrote the ending, printed it on my printer. And got it into Sandra's office in place of the real one. I think she about had a heart attack. I was afraid to call you, that who ever did this would find you. And Tohma wanted to take care of it all. He wanted me to stay in Narita."
"But you did message me, Eiri. You told me you'd be here."
"Baka, I didn't."
Then it settled in for them both. Someone who could send a message so much like Eiri, on a private cell phone number. "Oh, Eiri. You shouldn't have kept this from me. I need to know these things! What if that message had sent me somewhere else? You promised you wouldn't do this. It's just another way to put up walls, being all protective like this? Did you think I couldn't look after myself? That I'm really a baka? Nothing more than a stupid pink haired child?"
"No, Shuichi, that's not it." Eiri reached out to catch Shuichi's arm as he walked towards the door. He hated the emotions at times like this, closing off his throat and making his eyes burn. He couldn't lose him, this pink haired hyper singer, his pink fire! And the threat was real and horrible. The alternate ending to the book was too graphic, too painful and it had pushed al his buttons, scared him as deep as finally remembering what happened in New York. "Shuichi, please!"
"I need to cool off, Eiri," Shuichi said, hurt in his violet eyes. "I love you, but I just want a moment alone. Get your bag, I'll get my coat. I'll calm down, but right now, just leave me alone."
Eiri let his fingers fall back to his side, head bowed just a little. "As you wish."
Shuichi left the bathroom with just the slightest jingle of his zipper pulls and Eiri turned back to the mirror, to reamed out emotionally to really know what he thought.
The bathroom door had just finished closing with that little final swoosh they make when K screamed out, "No!"
Eiri ran to the door, jerking it open. K was on the far side of the terminal, gun already out. It was pointed at the odd little American from the plane, who was pointing a gun at Shuichi. Shuichi looked over his shoulder at Eiri, smiled in that comforting, nothing can get me way, and turned. The motion tracked through the air, the flair of his red vinyl coat, the clink of the zippers and Eiri realized the D rings at his wrists. For just a moment, the movement looked like he might be on stage, his mouth open and singing.
Sharp pangs of regret hit him. Shuichi had wanted him to come, to see the concert. It finally hit him then what the letters were at Shuichi's throat, S and E. The pop of the American's gun zipped through the air and Eiri ran. K's gun fired and the blond American screamed.
Fingers to his neck, to the dart in angry reddening skin, Shuichi, continued to turn, looking to Eiri as if he'd solve everything. Eiri reached him as he started to drop and caught him against his chest, one arm behind his back, one hand reaching for the dart in his lover's throat.
"Eiri," Shuichi whispered.
"Baka, hold still," Eiri commanded, testing to see if the dart was simple or barbed. "I'll take care of it."
"Eiri," Shuichi said, going limp against him, one hand trying to get a hold of his jacket, to hold himself up with, "Eiri, you're an asshole."
"I know," Eiri said, tears mixing between their lips as he kissed him. He dropped the dart and kissed with all his heart, as if he had to cross the whole universe, in just this next breath, had to reach into Shuichi's body and cover his Pink Fire with his own soul, to protect him at any cost. And still Shuichi dropped, lips fading soft, body sagging in Eiri's arms, the fingers trying for his jacket fell to the side and Eiri held his lover, clenched tight to his body. "Shuichi! Shuichi! SHUICHI!"
Author's note: This is not a death fic.
"