Authors Have Parties Too?
Part 1: Invitation and Preparation
Friday evening
"Eiirriiii . . ." Shuichi's whining had a way of penetrating the skull and cutting straight to the nerves.
"Aggh. Stop that! Why would you even want to go? I don't want to be there." He leaned back in his chair, pushing away from the laptop. Why had Mizuki even sent the damned invitation? His editor knew how much he hated that shit. He didn't enjoy being around people in general. Fellow writers were an entirely different can of worms.
"But, Eiri, I didn't even know you had other author friends."
"I don't," he said from clenched teeth. He lit a cigarette and tossed his lighter onto his desk. Shuichi smirked at him from his place on the stool next to his desk. Eiri knew that look. It said, I can see through you. Okay, he admitted to himself, I don't have many author friends. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "Why did you pick up the mail today, anyway?"
"I'm supposed to be getting a package-- but don't change the subject!" Shuichi waved the post card under his nose. It had a picture of books on the front with a big number twenty-five super-imposed over it. "Mizuki-san even hand wrote it. She wants you to come."
Eiri stood and snatched the postcard from his lover's hand. "No! Who gave you permission to read my mail, anyway??" He stomped out of the office, knowing Shuichi would follow him. He was seriously annoyed. Mizuki had probably sent a postcard on purpose, hoping Shuichi would read it. He dropped the card into the wastebasket, walked down the hall and shoved the living room door open; heading for the kitchen.
"Awww, Eiriiii, it's a postcard! I didn't open your mail— just looked at it. Besides," Eiri could hear the smirk in Shuichi's voice, "it was addressed to me, too." He turned around in surprise only to see the singer holding the retrieved postcard. Mizuki will pay for this, he thought. He nearly bit through his cigarette in irritation. There would be no getting out of it now. Shuichi proudly pointed to his name on the invitation, skipping in front of him to show it off.
Eiri brushed past the boy. With long strides, he reached the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the 'fridge. Popping the top off, he took a long drink and leaned back against the countertop. Shuichi sat on the island countertop, swinging his bare feet and lightly kicking the cupboard door. The postcard was in his hands and he was reading through it again, smiling triumphantly. Damnit, he already thinks he's won, Eiri thought.
"The 24th . . . that's a Saturday, isn't it? Will it be formal, do you think? Are the book publisher's parties like NG's CD release parties? Probably not, those are pretty casual, and they can get kind of wild . . . I think it will be fun for you to talk to other writers. You don't do that very often, do you? Of course, you don't talk to anyone much, anyway, but you should definitely go! It'll be good for you!" Shuichi bounced off the cupboard and wrapped himself around Eiri's torso. "We're going, right? What will you wear? Black, probably. Should we go shopping? You should wear more color."
He sighed. Listening to his lover's chatter soothed him in an odd way. When Shu was babbling, all was right with the world. He shook his head. It was still incomprehensible to him how the singer could carry on long, one-sided conversations without a pause or an obvious breath. He set his beer aside and hugged the boy. "Alright, we'll go. Now release me so I can go get some work done."
Shuichi let go of him immediately, throwing his arms into the air. "Yay! We get to go to a party!" He started hopping and dancing around the room. "You're taking me to a party!"
"Keh. Settle down, brat. Today is only the second. The party isn't for another three weeks." Eiri grabbed the beer and headed back to his office.
His lover hugged him again quickly, briefly impeding his progress across the living room floor. "I know, but I'm so excited! You come to NG's Christmas parties, but that's because Seguchi-san and your sister invite you, and you don't go to the release parties, usually, and I've never been to an authors' party. They must not come around very often. That makes this extra-special, right?" Shuichi's voice was muted by closing the living room door. Eiri was relieved that he hadn't been pursued. Apparently, the excitement of the party was enough to keep Shuichi happy for now.
The author rubbed one hand across his neck. He would have to speak with Mizuki. If Shuichi found out how many of these invitations he refused, he'd have trouble. He would have to make sure that Mizuki did not make a habit of addressing mail to both of them, either. That was sneaky. His editor knew how easily he said no to her, and she also knew how hard it was for him to refuse Shuichi. Still, I guess twenty-five years is an important milestone for a publishing company, he thought. He sighed again. Maybe I'll get sick on the 24th and I won't have to go . . .
Saturday afternoon
The following weekend, Eiri found himself shopping with Shuichi. Why? Why did I agree to this, Eiri wondered. Why was it such a big deal to Shuichi to have new clothes to wear to this damned party, anyway? This was the eighth clothing store in the two-story mall they had entered and they'd barely made it down one arm of the building. Shuichi had tried something on in each one of the stores. Eiri was carrying three shopping bags already and only one was for himself. Shuichi had absolutely insisted on buying colorful clothes for him. Considering Shu's ideas about color, the choices he made for Eiri weren't too bad. I might even wear them, he thought. He slouched in the tiny chair poised beside the dressing room mirrors, desperately wanting a cigarette.
Shuichi popped his head out of the changing room. With a big smile, he jumped out of the booth and spun around, showing off this latest fashion. Eiri wasn't certain how he'd managed to put the pants on. "Do you think these are too tight?" Shuichi asked earnestly, holding up his shirt and rotating in front of the three-way mirrors.
Eiri controlled himself admirably. "Yes."
Shuichi glanced at him in a moment of surprise, telling Eiri without words that he hadn't controlled his voice as well as he'd thought. A wicked smile chased the surprise off his lover's face. "Should I buy them anyway?" Shu's eyes flashed, teasingly.
That look, combined with the pants made Eiri instantly horny. Sometimes he hated how Shuichi could do that to him. He tried for nonchalance; shrugging, he said; "Your choice." He imagined Shuichi wearing those pants when they were alone, later . . . then he frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You wouldn't wear those to the party . . ."
Shu smiled knowingly, "No? You'd don't think they'd be the hit of the party?"
Eiri growled, "Come here."
Shuichi laughed and danced back into the booth, shutting the door. "Oh, no! I still want to try on a couple more things.
Fuck it, non-smoking or not, he needed a cigarette. He lit up. After a few minutes, Shuichi came out of the dressing room in an honest-to-gods suit. It surprised him. He looked . . . adult. Well, technically, Shuichi was an adult; he just never acted like one.
"What do you think? I could wear this to the party, huh?" He looked a little uncertain, tugging at the jacket hem and shifting his shoulders.
"It fits you well," he said non-committally. The pale blue-grey looked good with his blue-violet eyes and didn't clash with the pink hair. Eiri wasn't sure he liked the grown-up look on his hyper-active young lover. The tight pants were definitely a better look for him. He'd never seen Shuichi in anything this conservative. Come to think of it, the singer didn't own any clothing that could be considered conservative that wasn't totally casual.
"You should buy it," Eiri said. "The shoulders are a bit too wide for you, but they do alterations here, don't they?" Shuichi nodded and bit his lower lip. "I'll find a tailor," Eiri volunteered. "I have to find a place to put this out, anyway." He gestured with the cigarette.
"Eiri, you shouldn't be smoking in here!" Shuichi's protest was half-hearted. The younger man knew how pointless it was to argue with him when it came to his habit. Since they were the only ones in the dressing room, Eiri kissed him deeply to give him something else to think about while he found a tailor. Knowing the effect his kiss would have, Eiri thought smugly, that's revenge for teasing about the tight pants. He followed up the previous thought with; He's so cute when he blushes.
The night of the 24th came around and Eiri was healthy. Damnit. So was Shuichi, although Eiri may have trouble peeling him off the ceiling when it was time to go— figuratively, of course. He'd had lunch with that imbecile, Sakuma Ryuichi. The idiot was still flying high from the idea of a new duet Sakuma had planned to sing with him. Add to that the excitement of the party this evening and 'hyper-active' was just too mild a term for Shuichi's state of mind, energy level, and enthusiasm.
Maybe I should thank Sakuma for taking the brat out of here, Eiri thought. I don't think I could have tolerated this all day. Shuichi was sitting on the couch, dressed in his new suit, legs tucked under him, toes in the cushions. Surely he's not an adult. He can't even pretend to be an adult, Eiri thought, condescendinglyShu was loudly singing along with a music video on the TV and bouncing erratically Eiri watched his lover briefly from the darkness of the doorway. Shu looked about two years old rather than twenty. Eiri must have made some sound, because Shuichi's head snapped toward him and he jumped up.
"Is it time to go, Eiri? I'll shut the TV off . . . " He did, continuing his babble. "I was just watching this new video an—"
"Let's go." Eiri turned away and reached into the closet to grab his coat. It was about sixty degrees and raining lightly— around average for May. Eiri pulled out his keys and slipped on his shoes. Shuichi had had to buy new shoes, to go with the suit. Sneakers just wouldn't cut it. Fortunately, shoe shopping had taken a lot less time than clothes shopping. With a bound, Shuichi landed his feet in the shiny new shoes left by the door.
"Okay!" The kid declared. "You look good, Eiri. I like that red jacket. It's so much cheerier than black! What do you think the party will be like? I've been wondering all week, ya know?" Shu didn't bother with a coat. They stepped out and Eiri locked the apartment while Shuichi continued his prattle. "Does everybody just stand around talking about writing? Is there much to talk about like that?" Eiri thought it was a rhetorical question, so he didn't answer. "Or maybe they just stand around looking sour?" Shuichi smiled at him and poked him in the ribs.
His lover's implication was clear: Eiri would be required to socialize. Grrrr. Shuichi laughed at the growl that trickled out of him, clinging to his arm happily on the way to the car. It was so hard to be annoyed with that bratt when he laughed like that, Eiri thought.
As far as Eiri was concerned, book signings were a "necessary evil" to promote his work, but these kinds of get-togethers churned his stomach. Having Shuichi with him would either liven the boredom, or . . . more likely, Shuichi would do something that mortified him in front of his publisher, editor, and peers. He punched the key fob with his thumb to unlock the car doors.
This would be the first time he introduced Shuichi to people in his professional life. It was . . . a little intimidating. Surely, nearly everyone had seen or heard about the media ambush on TV wherein Eiri had admitted the nature of his relationship with Shuichi. Still, he had never allowed any open discussion about it with others. After all, his book appearances were professional, and he made sure any interview did not include questions about his personal life. This party was supposed to be a social occasion. As such, some might consider it 'open season' for nosy personal questions.
Shuichi could always read him. Climbing into the car, the singer became serious. "Are you worried, Eiri? I'll be good, really. I won't embarrass you." He buckled his seat belt and looked at the floor, saying, "It means a lot to me that you're taking me with you."
Eiri noted that Shuichi's usually messy pink hair had been combed. It still slid into his eyes, though. The kid had even offered to wash out the pink coloration, to make a better impression. Eiri had told him not to bother. In truth, he had become used to Shu's odd-colored hair and its fruity, herbal scent. Eiri remembered Shu's original hair color, but . . . it didn't suit him anymore. Eiri, himself, had always refused to dye his hair black to appear like a 'normal' Japanese. It would be hypocritical to ask his lover to change himself for something as petty as an office party.
Both men defied more than one social custom on a regular basis. There really wasn't a great need for either one of them to conform, either— especially when they were so successful being themselves. Besides-- the two of them had been public news for some time and Shuichi mattered much more to Eiri than public opinion. Eiri started the car and backed out into the street. "I know," he responded quietly. Otherwise, I wouldn't be going.
