Ahh... I had something to say here but I forgot it. Oh well. There's an appearance in this chapter! Just... an appearance. I'll let you read for yourself to see who it is. I got this in a couple days late (I consider Tuesday my 'deadline' day) but I couldn't write more than the second scene on Tuesday and I couldn't submit in on Wednesday. K might be a bit out of character in this chapter but he's a hard person for me to write for! I don't know why. I seemed to of wound up making him like a crazed version of Yuki. Oh well.
Waaah ff.net got rid of its NC-17 fics! One of my favorite stories on ff.net was an NC-17 fic! *cries * Anyway... stupid ff.net, they're getting more and more annoying. I wish there was someplace else I could read/post fanfiction.
Thanks to Koyuuno the Wonder Inu, Kai, chibiukyo, A ferret in NYC, and [blank] for reviewing! Koyuuno and [blank] both get cookies! *hands them choco chip * chibiukyou, don't worry! I'm getting the RyuTatsu started REALLY soon! Just be a little more patient.
Chikkychappy... I never imagined that someone would actually give me that kind of review, but I guess it can't be avoided. I'm glad you think the plot is original and that my story is well written but... if you don't like yaoi, WHAT were you doing in the Gravitation section of FF.net? I mean... honestly!
Cast:
Yuki Eiri - Edward Young - 22 - Accomplished Novelist
Shuichi Shindo - Stuart Shubrook - 19 - Aspiring Poet, Song Composer, and Actor/Musician
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, Song Composer, and Actor/Musician (I found out those were common back then)
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
Taki Aizawa - Terry Anderson - 22 - Popular new Actor/Musician
Ken-chan - Keith Bailey - 23 - Popular new Actor/Musician (usually in performs in plays written/starring Terry)
Ma-kun - Malcolm Clarke - 23 - Popular new Actor/Musician (usually in performs in plays written/starring Terry)
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure that I don't own anything in this chapter... yeah... or something.
Roses
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Chapter 9
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"Oh, hello Hugh! Stuart's waiting in the parlor." The red haired woman smiled and took a step back, letting the young man enter. She paused, waiting expectantly for an answer.
"Thank you, Mrs. Shubrook."
Stuart's mother continued standing there, a consistent, unnerving smile on her face. Hugh coughed and shifted his weight. "Of course, dear." The brunette turned his gaze towards the door she still had propped open.
"Are you going to close that?"
"Of course."
"Ah... right..." Hugh shuffled his feet, eager to get away from the strange woman. Stuart was bad enough; it wasn't fair that his mother had to be eccentric. It really made the man wonder what his friend's father was like – he'd never actually met him. Hugh envisioned a lithe, redheaded man who enjoyed bouncing off walls while reciting Shakespeare – poorly, of course – for a living.
"Waiting in the... the..."
"Dark?"
"Hugh!" Stuart pushed himself up from the floor and ran to his friend, "There you are! Come over here, help me with this poem."
"Is this the one you wanted me to see?"
He waved a hand absent mindedly to a stack of papers, "No it's over there. This is a new one." Hugh shrugged and bent over, picking up the first page on the stack. His friend plopped down on the floor, hunched over a few papers. "Waiting in the dark... never ... Hugh what rhymes with 'dark'?"
"Hark?"
"No, that won't work..."
Shrugging, Hugh eased into a stiff chair. He imagined that no one ever used furniture in this household – Stuart always sat on the floor, his mother always stood, and he never saw the boy's sister or father. Speaking of which... "Stuart, where's your sister?"
"Eh? Why?"
"Oh... no reason, really," he glanced down at the messy handwriting, "You talk about her so often and I've never seen her."
"Oh. Well, she's in France."
Hugh blinked and looked up from the page, "Why?"
"She wants to be a nun." The redhead, content with his answer, went back to the paper and pen before him. He tapped the tip of the writing instrument on his chin, then dipped it into the ink well next to him.
"A... nun? I didn't know your family was catholic."
"We're not."
"But..."
"Aha! Lark!" Grinning, the boy pushed himself back and propped up on his elbows, scribbling something down on the page. Hugh sighed and shook his head, turning his attention back to the page before him. The poem wasn't... bad, per say. It could have been much better, but Stuart had always been vocal than poetic. If he tried, the brunette could probably write music for it.
"Stuart, why do you want music for this? Are you writing a musical?"
"No... I want to write a song for Edward. He keeps saying how bad my writing is, maybe if I add music he'll like it more."
"I don't see what that has to do with the writing."
"What rhymes with dysfunctional?"
Hugh stared at the man, a rather blank look on his face. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, then shut it and decided against it.
"Toll! Thanks."
"I don't honestly think I want to see that poem..."
Stuart smiled and pushed the paper away from him and stared up at his friend, "So, did anything interesting happen?"
"What? Where?"
"At your practice!"
"Oh... well, yes, actually." Amazing, simply amazing. Stuart was actually curious about how things were going with him. This had to be a first.
"With those Ask people, right? I really don't like them! Especially Terry. He makes me so mad..." So much for the history books.
"Well, he wasn't really a problem today... Clarke and Bailey had the main scenes today. They kept shooting glares at the other cast members. The director told them he'd recast their roles if they didn't stop. I honestly think they're just naturally bitter."
"But Terry especially."
"I suppose."
Stuart flipped over, lying on his back. He rose the blunt end of the pen to his mouth and chewed on it absently. "I hope I can star in something big some day, show those three that they're not all that great. I'll be better than all of them, just you wait. And you can be the conductor."
Hugh smiled and leaned back in the chair, "I'd like that."
"Say, Hugh... do you remember," he pulled the pen away and studied the patterns on the ceiling, "when we were kids, and you would say that you wanted to be wealthy when you grew up."
"And you wanted to be famous." Stuart nodded. "Mmm... I remember. We used to think up a lot of scenarios... you'd be an actor and you wanted to be in one of those motion pictures. I wanted to be a wealthy concert violinist."
"Well, I think you'll be a wealthy violinist! And I may not be in motion pictures, but," he flipped over again and pushed himself up into a sitting position, "I'll be a famous musical actor!"
"What about poetry?"
"Hmm... I think I'll leave the writing up to Edward." Stuart smiled and rocked back and forth, closing his eyes. A tiny hint of emotion flashed in Hugh's expression, but Stuart was far too preoccupied to notice. The brunette sighed and stood up.
"I think I should be getting home."
Stuart opened his eyes and looked up at the man, "It's not late, though."
"No, but... I'll see you tomorrow, Stuart." He nodded to him, "And I'll try to think of something to fit your poem." Hugh bent forward and retrieved the paper. Stuart gave a slight wave and went back to his daydream, leaving Hugh to see himself out. The man sighed and folded up the paper, placed it in his vest pocket, and headed out of the room.
"Leaving now, Hugh?"
"Yes, Mrs. Shubrook."
"Hugh..." She took a step towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his ear down close to her mouth, "What happened to him?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... what happened between him and Mr. Young?"
Hugh blinked and looked at the woman out of the corner of his eye. Of course Stuart's mother would notice his behavior. Who wouldn't? But... he didn't think that telling her that her only son preferred men was the best approach. And it certainly wasn't something she should hear from him, "N-nothing, really."
"Hmph. I don't believe you. Well, I don't suppose you'll tell me, something in your eyes says you won't. I suppose I'll have to find out from him. Thank you for coming over." Hugh nodded, quite relieved.
"Thank you for having me." He hastened out of the door, almost running down the steps. His mother would find out, she was a rather devious and snooping woman. If she'd been born a man she probably could have been a detective. Or been in business, one of those.
~-~-~
They got along fairly well. The two had known each other for over a year and their friendship - if you could call it that - was stronger than ever. They even lived together. Both of the men were rather eccentric in different ways. One was a hyper active thirty something who was in dire need of someone to hit him over the head (although the other man did do that quite often). The other was a thirty something who was probably on a 'most-wanted' list in some state or country. Despite their rather... different personalities, the men got along quite well.
"Oh, oh, how about that one? I had some of those in America; some really nice lady gave me a piece. It's really kind of sour."
K glanced off to the side, looking at the small basket of mealy oranges. True – Reece had eaten oranges before, and for some reason it had spiked his hyperactivity so much that K had nightmares for weeks. No, he thought, he would not let Reece have an orange, "Lets try something else. Those look rotten."
"You're no fun. How about those?" the brunette pointed to a bushel of bananas, "Those are good!"
"How can this small market have such fruit?"
"We have the best trade route! We're near the ocean and I get fresh fruit every few days!"
K broke his gaze from the yellow fruit and looked at the vendor, "Is that so?"
"Yep, and the best prices too!"
"Those oranges have mold growing on them."
The vendor looked to the white specks and waved his hands frantically, "No, no, that's their natural coloring!"
The tall, blonde man leaned forward and placed a hand on the vendor's cart, pressing his weight, "Do you take me for a fool?"
"N-no! Of course not sir!"
"Then don't look at me like one." He smiled and stepped back, glancing at Reece who now had a bunch of bananas in his arms, one of which in his mouth.
"These are mushy!"
"Reece!" K groaned, quite exasperated, and strode over to his friend. "These fruits are bad, they're probably weeks old."
"Days, actually." The gunman turned abruptly and shot glares at the vendor who quickly let out a tiny 'eep' and cowered away from his gaze.
"Put them back."
"He already ate one! You should at least pay for it!"
"Are you trying my patience again, vendor?" K turned, giving him another glare.
"N-no! He can have them, free of charge! Just, please, don't hurt me!"
He smiled, "Alright!" he turned back to face Reece and gave the shorter man a light pat on the head. "You still shouldn't eat anymore." The boyish man pouted and put the bananas back on the vendor's cart, then tossed the peel from his already devoured banana on top of them.
"Fine... Oh look! Tomatoes!" The man rushed away from K, looking eagerly at one of the vegetable carts. "Can we get some, can we can we?"
"You don't even like vegetables."
"But they're so shiny!"
He let out a small groan and placed a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. There was definitely a headache coming on. If only the younger man would agree to having their food delivered, "Say... Reece."
"What?" The singer looked up at his manager, a potato in his hand.
"How about we head over to the butcher and place an order."
"Oh! Are you going to cook something tonight?"
"I was thinking that we ought to have our meat delivered. Most everyone on your street does."
"I like going out to get things."
"Well, how about the milk at least?"
"I like going out to get things." Reece stood there, pouting, now with a head of cabbage in his hands.
"I know you do, but... Well, say, how about we hire a maid? Or a butler?"
"No." Turning his back to his friend, Reece placed the cabbage down and picked up a tomato, "I don't want more people in the house. Me, you, and Teddy are enough."
"It would make things a little easier on me..." K sighed, he needed someone else in the house. He was a reasonable man – sometimes – and he could understand Reece's tendencies, but having to clean up after a full grown man with the mentality of a five year old was not something that made K get up in the morning with a smile on his face. He needed someone to help keep him sane. Well, as sane as he'd ever be.
"Reece, I think I'll start looking to hire a maid."
The brunette nodded, looking off to the side. He'd lost interest in what his friend was saying after his last comment. Besides, there was something much more interesting a couple yards away. He turned and continued looking off, ignoring K's speech.
"I know I'm not the best cook and you certainly aren't – "
That man looked... familiar. Sort of like Marianne's brother. Reece tilted his head, a quizzical look on his face. Yeah, a lot like Marianne's brother. Except, didn't the writer have blonde hair? And since when had he gone back in time to look like a teenager? His friend's wife's brother did look awfully old for his age, in Reece's opinion at least.
"Oh, K?"
"What?"
"Is that Mr. Young over there?" He gestured to the black haired man who was haggling over the price of some apples.
"Who?"
"You know, Annie's brother."
K just gave Reece a sort of funny look and shrugged, "I don't know, I haven't met him."
"Oh... he looks an awful lot like him. But Mr. Young used to have blonde hair. I don't know why he'd have black hair so suddenly..."
"Maybe it's his brother?"
Reece turned to look at his manager, "I didn't know Mr. Young had a brother."
"Maybe he doesn't. Anyway, Reece, let's go over to the butchers." Reece sighed and gave him a quick nod and followed him away from that part of the market street, but not before turning back and giving one last look to the Edward look-a-like. Unfortunately, the man was already gone. He shrugged and jogged to catch up with his friend.
"Lets get a car."
"What?" Reece blinked and walked in step with the blonde.
"I'm tired of walking around this city. And the horses stink."
"I like the horses!"
"They're old fashioned. No one really uses them anymore. We can afford a car, and I know how to drive one. You can always take a carriage when you need to." The brunette pouted and crossed his arms.
"I don't want a car."
"Well, too bad."
"But K – " he tugged on the man's sleeve, giving tiny pleading noises.
"We're getting a car."
"But K -!"
"No, I want a car, we're getting one."
"Fine, but Teddy's not going to speak to you anymore!"
He sighed as the brunette ran forward in the butcher shop. It was no big loss – he didn't honestly care if the stuffed animal talked to him or not. Reece would get over it, no big deal. This was the first time that he'd brought up the subject of a car without the other man bursting into tears. That was progress, at least.
~-~-~
He had another one of those feelings again. Actually, he'd had that feeling for several days now. That sense of foreboding doom that usually meant something big – and not usually good – was going to happen. The start of it was the previous day – his brother, Timothy, had come into town and was going to be staying in their family's town house for a week or so, maybe more he had said. It was just another one of Edward's father's attempts to get the man home. After several minutes of arguing with his younger sibling, Edward had told him to leave and not bother him again.
If he knew Timothy – and he did – the teenager would be back today. Truthfully, he'd shown up about five minutes after he'd been ushered out and asked for directions to the market. His excuse was he hadn't brought any food with him. Timothy without a maid to wait on him hand and foot was going to be simply disastrous. If he didn't come banging on the writer's door today it would be a miracle.
Generally, his brother didn't even bother staying for more than a day or so, spent at either Edward's or Marianne's house. There had to be some catch, some reason that he was being more persistent. Stuart had said something about that Reece Swift being back in town – maybe Timothy had found out. It really didn't matter either way to Edward, he was just glad the boy wasn't staying at his house this time.
Edward stood in his kitchen, barefoot, preparing tea. Hopefully today would be calm. It seemed like it would – the tea was going well, the house had a pleasant smell and aura about it, and the weather was good. But he just couldn't shake that feeling deep in his stomach. Wordlessly, the man poured tea into his white china cup and left the room. He paused outside of the kitchen door and looked about. No sound... quiet, just a bit too quiet. He lifted the tea to his lips and took a small drink, then started across the hall to his study.
Knock, knock. The blonde paused mid-step and turned his gaze to his front door. Another knock came from the door. He sighed and disappeared into the study to put the cup down. The knocking came louder and more persistent and Edward left the study, walking over to the door. He grumbled, closing his eyes as he opened it.
"Timothy, you're staying at your house, it's not my fault there's no maid there for - "
"Hello!" Wait... something about that voice sounded oddly... not... Timothy. Edward's eyes shot open and in front of him stood a short, red-haired man with suitcases by him and bundles under his arms. Edward, quite taken aback but deciding not to show it, merely stepped aside and let the boy in.
"What are you doing?"
The redhead ignored him and ran into the parlor, setting up random things. He placed a few glasses on some of the finely finished tables, dumped suitcases on the expensive crushed velvet couches and chairs, and began opening some of them. "I can put this in the bathroom later but it's very important – " he produced a crude toothbrush from the suitcase and placed it on the couch. Edward twitched.
"And then this is very good – " he rose a pillow and tossed it onto the table behind him, nearly knocking an expensive centerpiece off. Edward twitched again.
"And then – "
"What are you doing?"
Stuart paused and looked up from the suitcase and over at Edward. He put on the absolute cutest face he could possibly muster and began his little speech, "Well, I was thinking, I'm over here so much anyway, and my mom really wants me out of the house and I thought that it would be better to just live here because I wouldn't have to walk so far every day and I – "
He wasn't able to finish his sentence because at that time, Edward walked over to him, picked him up underneath the armpits, walked out of the parlor and to the front door, and kicked him out. Stuart jumped up and ran to the door, trying to push it in as Edward tried to keep it closed.
"Get – out!"
"I don't want to!" Edward slammed his foot on top of Stuart's foot and ground down on the shoe. "Ow, ow, ow..."
"You're not living here!"
"But I promise to wash the clothes and cook and clean and I can keep up after yourself and you don't have a maid anymore and I want to be with you!" Edward stopped pushing against the door and stood there, giving the redhead an opportunity to push the door open and land on the older man. "I promise I'll behave and I won't bother you, and you live in this big house all by yourself, but I just want to be near you..."
His eyes slid closed and he let out an inaudible sigh, "One week..."
Stuart shot up, looking at the writer's face, trying to see if he was joking, "Really?"
"I don't know after that."
"Alright!" He leaned forward and gave him a hug and quick peck on the cheek, then jumped up and ran back into the parlor. Edward sat up slowly and kicked the front door closed, scowling at some of the horrified faces watching outside. He pulled his knees up and rest his chin on them, looking off into space. He had to be crazy; there was no other explanation. That boy had better know what 'personal space' is, he thought. Chances were, though, that he didn't.
"You can sleep in the parlor. On that couch." He pointed to one of the better-worn pieces of furniture.
"What about the guest bedroom?"
"You sleep on the couch."
The blond left the hall and disappeared into his study. Stuart sighed and glanced into the messy parlor – he'd been here for three hours already and he'd only gotten a few things put away. Mostly he'd had to deal with Edward trying to talk him into going home. He'd have to let Hugh know tomorrow that his plan had worked. Stuart had told him that morning that he was going to try to move in with Edward. His friend had advised against it and even offered the redhead to live with him if he needed a place.
Stuart lifted his head defiantly and gathered his toothbrush and marched up the stairs to Edward's bathroom. A few minutes later he came out, bounding down the stairs and running to the writer's study, "Mr. You – " he stopped, seeing the man hunched over some papers with a pen in his hand. The redhead smiled and leaned against the wall outside the room, "Good night." He turned to his left and walked down the hall to the parlor.
The writer dropped the pen into its holder and pushed his chair back. It had been a rather... long day. That good ol' sense of foreboding doom had come through again, as promised. He walked around the desk and turned the desk lamp off, then left the room. Quietly, he stepped into the parlor and looked at the boy's sleeping form. Edward took a few steps forward and took hold of the blanket that was falling off his body. Stuart mumbled something and turned over, causing the writer to drop the blanket. He stood there looking like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and stepped back. Sighing, he turned and left the room.
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Ok, so I ran out 'original' ideas near the end there. Ahh... oh well. I made this chapter longer than normal, are you proud of me? @__@