Well, well, well... ya thought I ditched it didn't you? Believe me, I really want to! But... apparently people like this thing. And if people like it, I've got to deliver. I was late mainly because I wanted, no, NEEDED a break. I still do! The first... 3/4s of this chapter really sucks. And I'm honestly very sorry that it does. I'm never, ever using my laptop to write this thing again. My computer makes me more inspired than my laptop does... for some odd, demented reason. My laptop keeps telling me to play Solitaire... I don't know why.
Anyway... I'm having a really hard time with this. I know what I'm going to do at certain points, but everything else is just... ugh. Plus, I have this idea for a KarshxGlenn (Chrono Cross) fanfic, but I can't handle more than one story at a time. Bleh. Oh! And SUGURU REALLY NEEDS TO SHOW UP SOON! I keep asking him to crawl out of his hole but he DOESN'T WANT TO . You all will have to wait more chapters (hopefully ones that won't take two weeks to complete...) for him to make an appearance. All in good time... Actually. I think I'll force him to come out next chapter. So... yay?
Thanks to panatlantic, dJeu, Melody Mist, Distance, chibiukyou, ShadeAngel, and Koyuuno the Wonder Inu for reviewing!
dJeu – I never intended it to be a whole big Edward's past whole rape thing, so I guess it's ok. And I really don't like ASK ^_^;
chibiukyou – I know! I think I'll try to include it very, very soon though.
Koyuuno – you gotta admit, it made you pay attention!
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
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: Blah...
Roses
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Chapter 12
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"Are you positive that you don't need to stay longer?"
Stuart nodded once and pulled on his vest. "I don't want Mr. Young to worry."
"I doubt he would." Stuart smiled and walked up to Hugh, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm a big boy, I can handle his tantrums."
Hugh scoffed and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. His place was rather small for the area - he had lived with his parents until a year previous, when they'd kicked him out. 'Get a wife' they said, 'have some children.'
"Fine."
Stuart grabbed his jacket and slid it on over the shirt and vest. Smiling, he patted Hugh's shoulder and left the building.
He'd stayed at Hugh's place a couple times when a day went poorly with Edward. It was an understanding between the two - they got into a fight, Edward got mad, Stuart stayed with Hugh. And then when the redhead went back, they had a little fight and made up... rather well. Stuart grinned - when they made up the whole thing seemed worthwhile.
Rounding a corner, Stuart rose his head to look at the buildings around him. Most of the houses on Edward's street were three stories for the residence were rather wealthy. Edward's house, however, was only two stories. He didn't really need another one, it was only he (and Stuart) that occupied the house, and Edward never really needed more than one or two servants.
The redhead ran up the steps to his writer's house and rapped his knuckles on the door. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, waiting for Edward to open the door. After a minute, the door did open. Stuart began to bound forward and cling to the man, but stopped abruptly. Something was very, very odd with Edward. First of all, he'd never seen him with black hair. Secondly, he'd never seen him with dark eyes. And third, he'd never seen him with such a... lecherous expression on his face.
"M-Mr. Young?"
"Oh, it is you!" Black-haired Edward grabbed the other man by his wrists and dragged him into the house.
"You look..."
"Handsome? Cunning? Dashing? Smart?"
"Odd. And a bit younger than yesterday."
"What?" He rose a thin eyebrow and shut the door behind Stuart, "What are you talking about?"
"You - did I do something?" Stuart's expression turned dark; "I did, didn't I? I did something awful and now you've gone mad. Oh, I'm so, so sorry Mr. Young! I didn't mean to break you, I... I can fix you! I think..."
"'Mr. Young'?" He shook his head, "No, no you must have me confused with my brother."
"Bro-brother? He never told me he had a brother."
Edward's brother shrugged, "It slips his mind, I guess. Just like a lot of things. Anyway," the black-haired man extended a hand to Stuart, "I'm Timothy. Nice to meet you. Edward mentioned this morning that you might come by."
"Oh... I'm Stuart." He grasped Timothy's hand.
"I know."
"Oh." Stuart tugged his hand away from Timothy and retreated into the dining room. Sighing, he pulled a chair away from the table and sat. Timothy's head peaked in the doorway.
"I'm sorry that I startled you."
"That's alright." He waved his hand dismissing him and turned in the seat to face the fireplace next to the table. Timothy coughed and took a step into the room.
"I suppose I should explain myself... I'm his younger brother. I'm staying here until the end of the week."
"How come he never mentioned you?"
"He's like that. He forgets or he doesn't think it matters." He walked to the tableside near the fireplace and sat down. "Have you been living with him long?"
"He-he hasn't told you?"
He shrugged, "I would have been amazed if he had."
"Well... two or three weeks."
"Hm, getting close."
"Excuse me?"
Timothy waved his hands frantically, shaking his head, "It's nothing."
Stuart eyed him, warring, and shrugged, "So, where are you from? You sound like you have an accent."
"You don't know?" Timothy smiled, "Of course, he hasn't told you. We're from France. You could say that our family is stationed there."
"Oh, French! I thought that was it!" Stuart smiled, "I'd like to visit France some day, but I'm not in a hurry to cross seas."
"Of course. It's a very nice country." The younger man pouted and leaned against the back of his chair, "I want to move into a large chateau but father won't go for that. We have plenty of money; he just wants to stay in our small house. We have two houses, though - one in the country, and one in the city near the..." Timothy trailed off and glanced away from Stuart.
"Near the what?"
"Nothing. It's all right, I suppose. I've always liked larger places, though. Father, however, likes to feel cramped."
"Are you the only one living there with him?" Timothy nodded. "Oh, that's like me! I lived with my mother before moving in with Mr. Young."
"I see." Stuart turned his gaze to look out the window in the back of the room. He leaned forward, propping his chin on his palms. Timothy crossed his arms along his chest and watched the redhead before him. The previous night, Edward had spent two hours in his office. Timothy hadn't been able to tell if he'd been writing or not - the light seemed to be off. Of course, Timothy being the curious soul that he was, wandered into the parlor and rummaged around the 'new junk' there. He'd never taken Edward to be a Reece Swift fan, so it really shocked him to find a couple promotional posters slid underneath one of the sofas. Timothy had immediately barged into the study and inquired him about it. If he hadn't of done that, he probably wouldn't have found out about Stuart.
"Stuart?"
"Hm?" The redhead turned his gaze to Timothy, a serene day-dreamy look on his face. Timothy thought he looked rather familiar.
"Do you like Reece Swift?"
"Ah! Reece!" Stuart smiled and nodded his head vigorously, "I do! I met him the other day, he's really nice."
"You... met him? How, where?"
"At Savage Publishing downtown."
"I should visit there some time... So, what did he say? Is he as wonderful in person as he is on stage?" Timothy leaned forward, his eyes glazed over; "I've seen every play he was in in France and almost all of them in England."
"You must travel a lot!"
"Oh, not anymore. I wanted to see him in America but father wouldn't let me."
The older man smiled and closed his eyes; "You're very lucky to have seen so many."
Timothy's mouth opened slightly, forming a small 'o'. Stuart looked very, very familiar. He was certain he'd seen him somewhere before. The teenager stood and made for the door, "Do you have any other posters? I saw two of them."
"Hm? Oh! Yes, I have three." He stood and followed Timothy out of the room; "I keep the other one hidden. It's my favorite."
"Where did he hide it? I looked everywhere..." Timothy massaged his chin as the entered the parlor.
"Did you say something?"
"Oh, no! So, where is it?"
Stuart shook his head and stepped in front of the younger man, "You have to close your eyes! I don't want you knowing where it is."
"You're being a bore!"
"Close!" Timothy sighed and rose a hand to his eyes, closing them. Stuart smiled and ran to the fireplace, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to make sure that the other man wasn't looking, "No peeking!" He stepped over to the wall next to the fireplace and peeled some of the wallpaper off. Mainly he didn't want Timothy to see where the poster was hidden because he knew if Edward found out he'd be dead. Or worse - kicked out. He carefully pressed the wallpapering back down and turned to face Timothy. "Alright!"
The black-haired man lowered his hand and opened his eyes. He stepped over to Stuart and leaned forward to look at the poster, "Oh! That was my favorite of his. I saw it at least three times."
Stuart lowered his head to look at the poster, "I wanted to see it, but I couldn't get enough money to." Timothy shrugged and pulled the poster away, raising it to eye level. He glanced from the man before him to the poster.
"Hmm..."
"What, what is it?"
He walked over to Stuart and circled him, glancing back to the poster occasionally, making quiet 'hm' noises. His feet stopped all of a sudden and he dropped the poster to the floor, "I knew it! I knew you looked familiar?"
"Wh-what?"
Timothy stood behind Stuart and rose his arms, "The hair is a different color but..." he slowly enclosed his arms around the shorter man's shoulders and nuzzled his face into the crook of Stuart's neck, "I wonder... does he smell like this too?"
"W-what are you doing?!" The redhead grabbed hold of his captor's arms and tried to pull them off. Unfortunately for him, Timothy was much taller and much stronger than he was. So, the arms stayed. For a few seconds or so. After a little while Timothy's hands drifted down to loosen Stuart's shirt collar.
"Your skin is so soft..."
"Timothy!" Stuart turned his head abruptly and clamped his teeth down on the man's ear. The teen let out a tiny yelp and loosened his hold, allowing Stuart to jump away and grab a fire poker to arm himself with, "What in God's name do you think you're doing?!"
"I was just - you look so much like Reece, and I look an awful lot like my brother... " Stuart faltered for a couple seconds upon hearing himself compared to Reece. He? Look like a god like Reece? How was that... possible? Timothy saw this lapse in his expression and leapt forward, pushing the poker away and pinning Stuart's arms to his sides, "It'll be nice, just let us pretend..."
"Get off of me! Mr. Young!"
"He won't be home for another hour, we have plenty of time..." Timothy took a couple steps forward and fell over with Stuart onto the floor. Stuart's blood rushed to his head and he was very certain that he'd faint any second. He fought to stay conscious - he hated to find out what would happen if he were to faint.
"Mr. Young!"
~-~-~
Edward was, in fact, gone for the afternoon. Or at least for a couple hours. Thomas had called him up earlier that day and asked to meet with him at his office to discuss any new story line prospects. When Edward had arrived, his publisher had been staring out of his window, smoking a cigarette. He'd offered Edward one and the writer had gratefully obliged - he hadn't had a cigarette in a rather long time. The brat still hadn't bought him more matches.
"Please, sit. I hope you had a relaxing vacation." Edward shot the other blonde a rather nasty look of contempt before falling into one of the chairs opposite Thomas's desk, "How nice to know. I'd like to take a vacation. Marianne's a bit under the weather, though. A trip to Italy might be nice."
"Hn."
"You might come. Maybe walking around Florence would help you. Or you could visit your family in France..."
"I'm working right now, Thomas."
The older man smiled, "Of course."
"What do they want this time?" He leaned back and took a long drag from the cigarette.
"They?"
"The public, dammit. What is this next shit supposed to be?"
"Oh, you mean the story." Edward took another drag and let the smoke puff out of his mouth, "Well, your last book sold well. What was that about? Some girl falling in love with a man in high society? What happened in the end? It slips my mind."
"She dies."
"Of course. Why don't you let the heroine live this time?"
"Fine."
"Do you have any ideas?"
Edward shrugged and ground the half-finished cigarette into the ashtray on Thomas's desk. "Maybe some book about country peasants."
"Think about your audience, Edward."
"Bloody rich bastards who live in the country, then." Thomas nodded, "Maybe I'll kill the man off."
"They'd expect that, wouldn't they?"
"They're not that smart."
"Hm... Continue."
"Some young girl... and older man, maybe. Perhaps he'll develop pneumonia. Or scarlet fever." Thomas nodded absently and offered Edward another cigarette that he gladly accepted. The writer held the cigarette out in his mouth as it was lit then leaned back in the chair again, "Young girl, with an old man, with pneumonia, in the country."
"Well, that will sell well."
"You're right, it's awful. They're both young French peasants."
"That might work."
Edward snorted and took another drag of his cigarette. For his entire suave business-like manner, Thomas was really easy to trick. "They'll both die."
"Interesting."
"In some strange donkey accident."
"Intriguing." The older blonde leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, "Edward."
"What?"
"What are you still doing with him?"
Edward blinked and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, "Who?"
"You know who - that boy."
"Oh, him." He placed the cigarette back and inhaled.
"This is the longest I've seen you stay with anyone. What's so special about him?"
He looked away and let the cigarette hang dead in his mouth. "Nothing."
"If it's nothing then leave him already."
Edward sighed and stood, walking away from the desk. Thomas did everything he could to control the writer's life. He couldn't tell if it was jealousy, his over-protective nature, or if he really did feel concerned. Edward couldn't tell anymore, but he was almost certain it wasn't the latter. It never was.
"Edward, this is self destructive. You're just hurting yourself and him by staying with him."
"What do you know?"
Thomas feigned hurt - or at least Edward figured it was feigned - and placed a hand to his forehead, "I know what's best for you, Edward. I know you well enough."
"You're acting like my father."
"I may as well be. I'm only thinking of your best interests."
"Hah, that's a laugh."
Thomas sighed and walked around his desk to Edward, "Edward... people might find out. They'll talk. If people were to find out that you were insane... do you know how much your sales would dwindle?"
"I knew there was some hidden agenda. You're only concerned about your company."
"Of course I am! You're the biggest author at this publishing company. But," he laid a hand on his shoulder; "I'm also concerned about you."
Edward remained silent and shrugged his publisher's hand off. He walked towards the door and paused before turning to look back at him, "I'll think about it." He disappeared behind the door. Thomas sighed and turned to look out of the window in his office.
His home was his haven. There was a nice, quiet little study with nice, quiet little pieces of papers and quills and pens and books stacked along the walls. In his kitchen was a nice, quiet little cupboard with nice food. The dining room had calm, pretty chairs and a large window and a nice, attractive cupboard with lots of china. Upstairs were nice big rooms with nice carpeting and proper wallpapering that never peeled and the beds were always made.
That had all changed with Stuart moved in. The study was no longer a quiet haven with quiet books of knowledge – no, instead, it was a cramped little hole in hell with papers everywhere and dammit he could never find his cigarettes anymore. The kitchen was a mess, he never knew if the cupboard would be stocked or not and he certainly never knew what was in it. He was lucky that the china was still in tact, and very lucky that Stuart only ventured upstairs to use the tiny bathroom.
However, for all of Stuart's... reckless ways, he never shouted 'Mr. Young!' in the parlor – at least never when the writer wasn't home. Edward sighed and pulled his jacket off, hanging it on the coat-rack near the door, and walked to the parlor. Chances were that Timothy had found him. Bloody idiot, he had worse hormones than Stuart did.
And of course, he was right. Why was he always right? Edward crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame leading into the parlor. In some strange way Edward felt a little sorry for Stuart. A little sorry. Most of him just thought it was rather amusing.
"Get away! Mr. Young! Mr. You – "
"Timothy. Kindly stop harassing the man on the floor."
Timothy halted, just a few inches away from Stuart's mouth. He probably would have kissed him too, if Edward hadn't interrupted. Stuart's hands were pressed up underneath the younger man's chin, trying to force him away... or break his head off, whichever came first.
"E-Edward!"
"Mr. Young!" Stuart took this opportunity to forcibly shove the other man off him and run to his lover, "Thank you! I don't know what I would have done had you been any later!"
"I do..." Timothy grumbled dejectedly on the floor behind them.
"Timothy."
"What?"
"Leave now."
He sighed and pushed himself up off the ground, "Fine. I'll go buy some meat... Stuart can cook can't he?"
"Out."
"Right then!" Timothy nodded to them and hurried out of the room, intent on escaping his brother's wrath. Sometimes he could take him, other times he woke up in a dark room wearing a dress with who knows how many bruises. He never questioned how that happened – one didn't question Edward's sanity, er, motives.
"Thank you, Mr. Young."
Edward grunted and walked past Stuart to his couch. The redhead downcast his eyes and followed, "I have a question..." He glanced up to look at Edward, and seeing no consternation, continued, "Well... as you may know, my debut... performance is this weekend... and, do you think that perhaps... you could come see it?"
He lowered his head again, waiting to hear Edward say something like 'why should I see something useless?' or 'I don't watch theatre' or even the more biting, flat-out 'no'. However, Edward didn't say anything. In fact, when Stuart looked up to see if he was even a bit angry, the man had absolutely no expression. Stuart sighed and lowered his head again, "I understand. It was silly of me. What if people talked? You're right, let's forget it."
"When is it?"
The redhead blinked suddenly and looked up, trying to read Edward's still blank face, "Friday. At eight."
"Hm."
"Will you come?"
The writer turned his gaze to look past Stuart, "If it's convenient."
"Really?!" Stuart leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the taller man's waist, "Thank you! Thank you!"
"W-wait!" Blushing, Edward pushed him away and turned his face abruptly away, making sure Stuart didn't see his face, "I did not say I would."
"But you did not say you wouldn't. Oh I do hope you come! It really would mean a lot to me." He gave Edward another hug then stood. "I'm going to see if Timothy is back with the meat yet."
Edward turned, "Wait..."
"Hm?"
He paused, then shook his head, "Forget it." Stuart shrugged and turned to run out of the room. The blonde sighed and leaned back against the couch. If he did go... Stuart would be happy. And as annoying as Stuart was when he was happy, he was even more annoying when he was angry. However, Thomas would be very, very angry....
"...To hell with Thomas."
~-~
Yeah! To hell with Thomas! .; * cough*