Ah! And here be another chapter! Some of you have been waiting for some shounen ai, well, there is some in this one! Near the end of the chapter though, and nothing below the waist, but it is something ^_^; I hope you like it. I'm worried about it. I've never written shounen ai before (yes, it's true! Could you tell? .;;;). I just read shounen ai like Yuki on a cigarette binge.
Thanks chibiukyou (wai, your reviews still make me smile, I always look for them after I post each chapter ^_^), Ruby, and Eike (I always forget that their names aren't Japanese so I keep checking to see if Sakano is Mr. Saunders or Mr. Savage ^_^;) for reviewing!
And Eike made me think about something... I wonder how I'm going to handle Shuichi's whole "Yuki Yuki Yuki!" thing. It would be impolite for him to run around screaming, "YOUNG!" all day long but it's too informal for him to call him Edward. Does anyone have any suggestions? Ah! And I still need a beta-reader! Contact me on Ymessenger at shampooscatcafe if you're interested .;
Cast:
Yuki Eiri - Edward Young - 22 - Accomplished Novelist
Shuichi Shindo - Stuart Shubrook - 19 - Aspiring Poet and Song Composer
Seguchi Tohma - Thomas Savage - 32 - Wealthy Publishing Company Owner
Sakano - Kenneth Saunders - 29 - Stuart's Agent
K - Claude K. Winchester - 36 - American Ex-Mafia gunman, works for Thomas as an Agent
Sakuma Ryuichi - Reece Swift - 31 - Accomplished Poet and Song Composer
Nakano Hiroshi - Hugh Norris - 19 - Aspiring Violinist
Uesugi Tatsuha - Timothy Ulysses - 16 - Schoolboy
Suguru Fujisaki - Frederick Sullivan - 16 - Schoolboy and Aspiring Conductor/Composer
Noriko Ukai - Natalie Udell - 28 - Accomplished Pianist
Ayaka Usami - Anna Udolf - 17 – Schoolgirl
Seguchi Mika – Marianne Savage – Thomas's wife
Rating: PG – PG-13
Disclaimer: I own Gravitation. That's right, I'm Maki Murakami! .... Come ON now people! . Really, some people are so gullible... I own the plot. I have some money but not enough to sue me for.
Roses
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Chapter 4
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"I'm fine, I'm calm, I'm collected, I'm..." Mr. Saunders stopped his pacing and looked at the door leading out of the restaurant, "I'm going to faint."
It had been four days since the incident with his client and Mr. Young and just two days ago Mr. Savage requested a lunch with him at this restaurant. Something about discussing how they were going to keep the two from biting their heads off. Or was it about eating heads... he really wasn't sure, all he did the whole time was fantasize about feeding Mr. Savage finger sandwiches. Sure, it was kind of wrong for him to think about his boss like that, but he really didn't care. He'd stopped caring a long time ago.
However, right now he was having second thoughts. What if he actually tripped up and tried to feed Mr. Savage? That would be a disaster! He'd get fired and have to live out on the streets! He'd lose his clothes, his home, and his family would cut him off from them because he was homeless and liked men. Mr. Saunders groaned and rubbed his head quickly. No! He would stay focused today; he would listen to what Mr. Savage said and give sound advice about the matter.
"Ah, Mr. Saunders." He hoped.
"M-Mr. Savage!" The agent grabbed his handkerchief from his jacket's pocket and dabbed his forehead, "H-how nice to s-see you."
"I'm sorry I'm late, but you know how it is. A lot of work to do." Thomas smiled to him and walked to the server, told him the name, then went inside with Mr. Saunders to their table.
"Well, as you know, Edward and – ah, a glass of red wine please, thank you – Mr. Shubrook do not get along." He sat down in the seat, resting his elbows on the table.
"Y-yes." Mr. Saunders followed suit, but kept his hands firmly on his lap.
"And of course since they will be working together for the next month, they need to get along a little better." The dark haired man imagined little cherubs circling his employer's head.
"Y-yes." And the arrows shooting.
"I was thinking that we'd find some common interest they shared. Or... Mr. Saunders, are you listening to me?" And they all flew away.
The agent blinked and shook his head quickly. Damnit! He'd drifted off into his daydreams and hadn't heard a word Mr. Savage had said! That's exactly what he didn't want to do. The black haired man shook his head again, "I'm sorry, sorry."
Thomas quirked an eyebrow at him and shrugged, "Well, did you have any ideas?"
"A-ah. Well... does Mr. Young like music?"
"I don't think he minds it but he doesn't make an effort to go to concerts."
Mr. Saunders rose a hand to his head and tousled his hair, "I see... Maybe if we just make them see each other so much that they have to get used to one another?"
Thomas shook his head, "No, that wouldn't work with Edward. He'd probably just snap and try to kill the boy."
"O-oh," the agent squeaked. A dead client wasn't a very good thing to put on your résumé.
The publisher sighed and glanced up at the waiter, then ordered a sandwich, and took his glass of wine. Mr. Saunders took the water he hadn't realized he'd ordered, and then asked for the same as Mr. Savage. "I think I'll just bribe him. Maybe entice him with another week vacation..." Mr. Saunders nodded dumbly, "And perhaps Mr. Shubrook with the opportunity for a writing job with someone." He nodded again, seeing the angels come back again, then hearing 'holy' music. "I don't suppose that – " and they started dancing. "Of course, then if – " and shooting arrows at Mr. Saunders.
"But then if I – " and thus the angels floated over to Mr. Saunders, giggling. "I never had any luck with – " and they tugged at his shirt and tie, pulling him forward, "Mr. Saunders...?" and closer, "Mr. Saunders?" and even closer, "Mr. Saunders!"
The agent blinked, seeing him practically on top of the table and only about a foot away from Mr. Savage's head. He let out a little yelp and the angels scattered, "I'm very sorry!" he moved back and flushed, "I-I – "
"What was that about?"
"Ah! B-bad hearing! Yes, I-I couldn't hear you! Yes..." Mr. Saunders grabbed his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.
"Then what was I talking about?"
"Ah... that is..."
The waiter returned, placing their orders in front of them, then left. Mr. Savage raised an eyebrow at his employee, but decided not to question him any further. After all, there was food waiting for him.
They didn't say anything else during the meal, and only spoke again after they'd left the building. "Thank for meeting me here, Mr. Saunders."
"A-ah, you're welcome..."
"I'm sure we'll figure out something with those two. And it's three days from now at Edward's residence again. Perhaps we'll try Mr. Shubrook's next time if the results are the same."
Mr. Saunders nodded and walked away from the building, chastising himself about his failure with will power. Mr. Savage just watched him leave and chuckled, shaking his head.
~-~-~
"Ah! Hugh, how nice to see you." Stuart's mother opened the front door to her house, greeting her son's best friend, "Come in, Stuart's in the parlor."
Hugh flashed one of his infamous smiles at her and stepped past her, "Thank you." He walked on down the front hall and ducked into the parlor. "Stuart,"
His friend glanced up from the floor and waved to him, "Ah, Hugh! There you are. I want you to read this," the boy straightened from his hunched position and produced a piece of paper, "It's a new poem I wrote."
"Ah, lets see it then." The brunette stepped over to the redhead and knelt down beside him, amongst the midst of papers, "I see you've been writing all morning.'
"Yes! I just felt like writing all of a sudden. I'll show that good-for-nothing so-called 'writer' who's garbage!" he shoved the paper in his hand in Hugh's face, "Read it!"
Hugh coughed and took the paper, looking over the words printed in scrawled handwriting, "I see..." Stuart inched towards him, studying the man's face.
"Well, well?" Hugh remained silent, however shifted his position to sitting and spread his legs out in the floor to make himself more comfortable. The redhead sighed and leaned back, drumming his hands on the rug beneath them. Hugh glanced up from the page and watched Stuart momentarily, then looked back down at the words.
"Hmm..."
"Yes, yes?"
"Well..."
"Yes, yes?" Stuart inched closer with each yes until he was just a few inches away from Hugh's face.
"You're improving." Hugh smiled as Stuart fell over, twitching. He placed the paper on the boy's head and tapped his shoulder, "Oh that's a good thing, really. I guess anger really does bring out the creative mind in some people. This poem looks angry."
"It is! I'm really mad!" Stuart sat up, letting the paper drift to the floor, "I'm so mad I could strangle that man! Do you know, I saw him at the market – again, Hugh, again! – two days ago and all he did was ignore me! I yelled at him and threw an onion at his head – the produce sellers are getting annoyed with me – and all he did was call me a brat and walk away!" Stuart balled his fists up; "He makes me so angry!"
"Well, you can't really expect him to be civil to you if all you do is throw objects at him."
"So? He started it!"
"Did he throw something at you?"
"Well..." Stuart looked down dejectedly, "No..."
"My point."
"But, but... you don't understand, I can't stand that he's like that to me!"
Hugh sighed and looked at Stuart sadly, "Why?"
"I-I don't know... I just can't."
Hugh moved closer to Stuart and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "I think that you're attracted to him."
"W-what!" Stuart moved back from Hugh, looking at him with wide, scared eyes, "How could I be attracted to him? And he's a man! Men don't like other men like that!"
"You can't help who you like, Stuart..." he sighed, lowering his head, "Believe me..."
"Hugh?"
The brunette shook his head and smiled, meeting Stuart's eyes again; "It's nothing. I know when you like someone Stuart, and you like him. Even if he is a man, and a conceited one at that, you still like him."
"I don't want to!"
Hugh sighed again and moved over to Stuart, placing both hands on his shoulders, "Stuart, I know that it's a hard concept to grasp in this day and age, but you really can't chose who you fall in love with."
"N-now it's love? I told you, Hugh, I hate him! Hate!"
"Stuart, don't lie to yourself. That just makes it worse." He picked up a few scattered papers and looked at them, "This is proof that it's more than hatred."
"But..."
"No buts! Admit it to yourself, Stuart, you'll feel better. And then maybe you could write about more than anger."
The poet paused, lowering his eyes from Hugh's penetrating gaze. In some way, the man was right. He was always right. Stuart didn't hate the writer. In fact, quite the opposite. But how could that be? They were both men, that was... that was impossible. And in any case, there was no way that the blonde would feel the same way... even if it would be wonderful. But that was too fanciful a dream to be true. Stuart turned his head again, moving back from Hugh, "Even if... even if... there's no way he'd feel the same way."
"How do you know?"
"But -!" Stuart looked up quickly; hope filled in his eyes.
"You never know until you try." Hugh smiled – weakly - but he smiled. Stuart nodded to him and stood, clenching his fists in determination.
"That's right! You never know until you try! You're right!" The redhead turned quickly and headed for the parlor door, then stopped and glanced back at Hugh, "That's absolutely right! Thank you!" and then, he was gone and running down the hall and out the door.
Hugh leaned back, propping himself up on his right arm. True, it had been somewhat suicide to edge his friend on. True, he'd never have a chance – even if he never had one to begin with – of having his feelings returned. But he wanted his friend's happiness. And if that meant him being with some annoying arrogant author then so be it. However... that didn't mean he would be happy about it.
Living in the residential area of the city had its perks. For one, you didn't have to walk far to get to someone's house. For another, you could remember where someone lived rather easily. Stuart had lived in this part of the city his whole life so he knew it extremely well. Mr. Saunders had told Stuart that Mr. Young had moved into his house only a year before and didn't come out very often. He used to live in France, or at least have a vacation house there that he stayed in for most of the year. It must be nice to have a vacation house, Stuart thought.
As he rounded the corner, he mused about what Hugh had told him. Sure, any sort of this relationship was taboo, but somehow he didn't care. He never really had been attracted to girls. And while his friend would talk about a few girls in high school, all Stuart did was work on his poems. His mother had introduced him to an attractive girl once, or at least Hugh said she was, but they wound up being friends and never anything more.
He wondered if perhaps the writer had thought about matters like these often. Of course, he was a writer, and writers tend to be eccentric, so there was a good chance that he was... like that. Wordlessly, Stuart hoped and prayed that he was that eccentric and that he wouldn't try to kill the poet when he heard. He probably wasn't that violent anyway.
He hoped he wasn't, at least.
Stuart rounded another corner, seeing a couple walking down the sidewalk on the other side, going in the opposite direction. 'Maybe that'll be me soon!' But perhaps not. No time to think about things like that now! No, not when he had reached Mr. Young's house and stood at the bottom of the stoop. And not when he was looking at the door intently as he made his way up the stairs. And certainly not when he rose the brass knock and then let it drop, listening to the quiet sound it made. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't hear! Yes, and then, Stuart could run home and pretend this had never happened. Then he would find himself a nice girl and pretend that he liked girls. Yes, that would be a good plan.
And he would have gone through with it if the door hadn't opened then and he stood facing a tall, blonde haired man.
He hated it when she did this. It didn't happen often, but it still happened. When his sister tried to get him to go back to his family's church in Paris. She tried anything to make him move back – bribe him, threaten him, anything just to make him leave this country. It never worked, never. His whole family knew this, they knew deep down that he wouldn't go back. But they persisted, they didn't really care. She didn't even live with them anymore and yet she tried to make Edward move back.
And she was especially annoying when he had a headache. "Edward, if you would just – "
"I'm telling you, Marianne, I'm not going. I don't care what you do, I'm staying. And you can stay here all day long yelling at me over this and waste perfectly good hours I could spend resting, or you can go home like a good girl and leave me alone."
"I'm not going."
"But if you could just – "
"No." He prayed for something, anything, to happen and make her leave. His ears strained and yes – he heard something! The sound of someone knocking. Sure, it was extremely quiet and he could be hallucinating, but it was worth a try. The writer practically ran from the parlor and to the door, swinging it open. Anyone, he didn't care who, but he silently thanked them for coming.
Except... this was the last person he would want to show up on his doorstep. Standing there panting, with ink stains on his fingers was a boy with red hair and intense angry violet eyes.
The very last person he wanted to see right now. And then, his sister showed up next to him and glared at the boy, "And who is this?" Edward sighed, seeing the shocked expression on his face. Now he'd have to deal with the brat's jealousy.
"Uh..."
Well at least he wouldn't talk much. If Edward didn't do something soon the kid would bolt out of there, leaving him with Marianne. Which, as much as he hated to admit it, was more annoying than this child at the moment. So, he stepped over to him and slung an arm around his shoulder, smirking at the shocked gasp coming from the boy. This would work out perfectly.
"And who is this?" A very attractive brunette stood next to Mr. Young, an annoyed look on her face. Of course... there was always an attractive woman standing in the way. Of course! He never caught a break.
"Uh..."
And then, something very, very odd happened. This man, this heavenly man that he had come to see stepped over to him and gripped him possessively. Was it, perhaps, did he feel the same way? Was Stuart just that lucky...?
"Ah, Stuart, there you are. I suppose it's time for our lesson. Right, Stuart?" the writer leaned in closer, resting his head on the redhead's shoulder. This had to be a dream, it couldn't be happening! And in public, too! "I'm afraid our little meeting will have to be cut short," he could hear the venom dripping in the writer's voice as he looked at the brunette. "Do anything and I kill you," well that harsh whisper was certainly directed at him. Stuart shivered.
"Is he that much more important than I am?"
"Of course,"
The woman made an airy sound and stormed off down the steps and away from the building. Mr. Young sighed and released his hold on Stuart, then walked over to his open door and stepped in.
"W-what did you do that for?"
"Don't tell me you weren't happy." The writer stopped in the doorframe.
Stuart's fists tightened and he stepped forward, "Her feelings were hurt!"
"Yes, they were. But," his icy glare fixated on Stuart, "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"W-what?" Edward shrugged and walked inside the house, carelessly pushing the door behind him. Stuart jumped and ran to him, slamming the door behind him, standing just a few inches inside the home. Sure, he was being rude, sure, he shouldn't have entered uninvited, but he was angry! And this man was being just as rude, if not more so.
"Don't think I'm stupid." Edward stopped at the foot of his staircase and looked at Stuart, "You're attracted to me."
"D-don't say such things like you think you know! You don't know anything!"
Edward shrugged, "That may be true. But I'm not blind. Anyone could see your feelings, the way you're so obsessive with me."
"I am not obsessive!"
"Of course you are."
Stuart ran forward, grabbing the blonde's shirt collar roughly. He gave the writer a shake and looked up at him. Edward looked off to the side, mumbling, "Who is this boy...?"
"Stop it! You keep saying things like this and think you know everything! Well you don't! You think you're so great and that you're better than anything else! You're not! You're the lowest, everything is better than you!"
"Are you saying you are too? Are you so arrogant as to say that to me?"
Stuart faltered and shook his head quickly, "Don't confuse me! It's you we're talking about here, not me! You're the arrogant one!"
Edward's expression remained cold as he pried Stuart's hands from his collar, showing that he was just toying with the boy, and turned him around, backing him up against the staircase. The redhead stumbled back, falling onto the steps with a start. Edward just knelt down in front of him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt, "You keep saying I'm arrogant when all you do is say how you're better than I am. Do you really think you're so much better, then?"
"Why do you keep acting like this? I say you're arrogant because you are! Why do you act that way? Why can't you be nice, why can't you see – "
"You ask me why now," he mummers, leaning in closer, "He did too. Why do you keep coming to me? Am I so enticing?" The blonde paused, a few inches from the redhead's face. He ignored the fact that the boy was now trembling, and the fact that he could feel his heart racing through the fabric. Edward closed his eyes, "Oh well..."
Stuart's eyes widened suddenly – he couldn't be doing this. But... the writer leaned in, closing the space between the two and pressing his lips to Stuart's. And... The boy's eyes stayed open, watching the man's face. Was this the way it was supposed to be? He saw no shooting stars and he heard no music, only the sound of the blood rushing to his head and the feel of his heart pounding out of his chest. It would do that soon, if Edward didn't stop... if he didn't stop doing that with his lips – the light pressure, only too light Stuart thought.
His heart would... if he didn't stop that deeper pressure – yes, this was what he was waiting for. Yet he was too unsure of what to do, he felt a desire to return the kiss, to move forward, but this was too foreign to him. He'd kissed a girl, once, but it was light and he felt like she was his sister. This was different – there was no innocence to this. There was no virginity or secrecy, it was animalistic. And then he could feel another pressure on his lips. Stuart's eyes drifted down, seeing the writer's tongue dart out and lick the boy's pink lips.
And no matter how much his brain told him to do nothing, no matter how much his heart told him that it would explode, his body wouldn't listen. Instead, it made his mouth open and his tongue meet the other. If Stuart was thinking rationally he would have been disgusted by what he was doing but somehow... something about the way the older man's tongue felt against him, something about the sheer force of the two dancing and the lips meeting made him feel... alive.
As if that wasn't enough, he could feel a hand drift up to his neck, and then he could faintly hear the sound of a button popping, then another, and another. And then he noticed that his vest was gone, and his shirt was half-undone. But it wasn't cold – there was warmth there, like... Stuart opened his eyes – had they been closed...? When had that happened? He glanced down, seeing through the medley of their lips that there was a hand there – Edward's hand. And as much as he hated – no, he didn't hate it, he loved it. The feel of someone else's skin, this man's especially, was delicious. And his eyes slid closed again and he was vaguely aware of the sounds coming from Edward's throat. Wait, no... They were from his own.
And at the moment, he couldn't think of anything better than this feeling, than being here on the stairway of Edward's house. Then being here, beneath Edward, kissing him. That's right... he was kissing him...
He was almost sure, no, he was certain that there was no way this moment could be ruined. There was no one else around, no one to disturb them, and he certainly wasn't going to do anything to stop it. Of course, he had forgotten one thing.
One very, very crucial thing.
One very, very scared crucial thing that happened to be standing right next to the two men, eyes wide and mouth agape. And somehow neither of them noticed that she had been standing there ever since Stuart had entered the house.
And for some odd reason she chose now to scream. And this caused both of the men to immediately stop and turn their heads to see one very horrified, fainted maid.
Damn... and Edward had just hired a new one last month.
~-~-~-~
Ah, well, there's another chapter ^_^; This one was hard to get started on! All I knew was how it was going to end. I didn't know how to start it or anything. I'm surprised that I managed to get it all in one sitting. I know, I wasn't very original towards the end here but I don't care. I like how Murakami-sensei did that scene with them, I wouldn't change it. It's a bit more intense then the anime version was, but I think the manga version of that kiss scene was much more tantalizing. * giggles* tantalizing... hehee.
Oh, and this was my first attempt at any sort of kiss scene or shounen ai thing... .; it makes me uncomfortable usually. Do you think it turned out ok? I'm worried about it x_x