Disclaimer: It's Gravitation and so obviously shonen-ai. PG-13 for language and sexual situations. Gravitation doesn't belong to me—its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I am simply a devotee. Please read, enjoy, and review. To those who have: Thank you!! Authors Have Parties Too? Part 13: Epilogue

Monday, September 8

Eiri woke up in his own bed for the first time in over two months. He stretched, feeling Shuichi shift around beside him. It smelled like home. It was such a good feeling! No back aches, this morning, either. Eiri swore that hotel staff stuck rocks in the mattresses, chuckling all the while. Ugh. After three months of touring with Bad Luck, with only a short visit home two months ago, it was a great relief to know that there was no hurry today. The public would not be waiting outside the door. They could both sleep in, today. Then again . . . Eiri reached out and trailed his fingers across Shu's naked shoulder.

Shuichi half-turned, looking at him with sleepy blue-violet eyes and a big smile. "Mmmm. Eiri?"

Eiri smiled back at him. No face paint, this morning. No hair gook. No glitter. Just pure naked Shuichi. Eiri turned Shuichi over, pulling him close and kissing him.

---

It was afternoon by the time they decided to climb out of bed and settle in to being at home again. When they came in last night, they had dumped their luggage near the door and gone straight to bed. Looking over all of it during the day, it was surprising how much they had accumulated. They had each started the tour with one suitcase, plus Eiri's laptop. Shuichi had two more suitcases now, because people kept giving him things. For some reason, the bratt felt obligated to keep most of it. At least he threw away the ladies' undergarments, Eiri thought. However, the stuffed animal collection was becoming especially annoying.

Eiri sighed. He didn't feel like unpacking yet. Tohma had picked up their mail from the post office and it set by the rest of their crap in a big paper bag. Eiri decided they could sort through it over a leisurely brunch. He cooked and Shuichi up-ended the bag of mail over the kitchen table. Shu had pretty much sorted it into 'mine' and 'yours' piles by the time the food was ready. The kid talked the entire time, verbally high-lighting names of people who had sent mail. There was a small stack in the middle of the table made up of things addressed to both of them.

"Shuichi, when you get your juice, would you grab my coffee?" Eiri set the plates on the table, shoving the mail around a little to clear a spot.

"Sure. Oooo. One from Never Ending Dream, to both of us!" Shuichi remarked, setting in the center pile. The singer shuffled another three letters in his hands, dropping them into his pile. Eiri snatched the pink Never Ending Dream envelope from top of the mutual pile. Shuichi smirked at him and sauntered over to the refrigerator for drinks, whistling 'Time in My Heart'.

Privately, Eiri blamed the last letter from his publisher for all the trouble with Miyamoto. Eiri would NOT be going to any more book-related parties with or without Shuichi! Quickly, he ripped open the envelope. If necessary, he hoped he could get rid of it before Shu tried to read it. Eiri scanned the flowery-scripted letter, which invited him to a party in his honor, to celebrate Never Ending Dream's first book release to be number one on the best seller list. 'Golden Sands', his last book title. He shredded the paper and its flowery script into tiny pieces in his hands. Are the pieces too small to put together and read, he wondered? Where can I hide them?

Shuichi broke off his whistling, setting the coffee in a little clearing between stacks of mail before the writer. "So what was it?"

"It just informed me that 'Golden Sands' made number one on the best seller list," Eiri said blandly. He was a much better liar than Shuichi. A partial truth was the best way to pull it off. "We should bring the trash basket in here."

"Here," Shuichi said, sitting and handing him the bag the mail had been kept in. "I've been using this." Eiri nodded and placed it between them, and to his right, on top of some of the mail. He tossed the pink scraps into the bag, making a mental note to be certain that this bag found its way to the incinerator before Shuichi got too curious. "Why'd you rip it up, then?" Definitely, too curious.

Eiri frowned. "I've told you before; I don't need or want accolades for my work."

"Yeah, but . . . Eiri, people want to give them to you. Can't you just, you know, accept that?" Eiri met his lover's earnest gaze across the table. Shuichi gestured vaguely toward the hall. "It's like all that stuff that people give to me. They just want me to see them. They can't have a piece of me, because I'm all yours!" Shu grinned. "They can listen to my music, and they can give me something from themselves. That's enough for them, er, most of them." Shuichi took a couple of bites of brunch, watching him.

The singer was probably hoping to avoid another discussion about rabid fans. There had been several over the course of the tour. Eyebrows coming together, Eiri thought about what he'd said. Sometimes Shuichi's naivety held unexpected wisdom. "Maybe you're right," he muttered.

Shuichi's brows went up. "What was that, Eiri?" Shu mocked him, cupping one hand around his ear, "Did you say, 'you're right'??" Shuichi giggled and grinned at him.

"Shut up." Shuichi laughed some more.

Once the mail had all been placed in stacks, Shuichi shuffled through his piles to find the ones he wanted to read first. "It's from Maiko," he said, holding it up to show him an envelope decorated with a strange doodle of . . . a dog? Shu's sister had a very odd sense of humor. The kid pulled out a newspaper clipping and a letter. He read the clipping first. "Eiri, read this!" Shuichi dangled it in front of him, so he set down the mail he'd intended to open.

The headline read, "Would-be Killer Gets Maximum Sentence". Eiri read through it. Miyamoto was found guilty and had been sentenced to life in prison for two counts of assault with a deadly weapon, four counts of attempted murder, and he was charged for assaulting police officer. The judge found Miyamoto to be 'unremorseful' for his actions and because of the nature of his crimes; the public prosecutor had argued that the author was 'a danger to society'. Mixed with the profuse public outcry against him, the judge had decided to invoke the maximum penalty. Though the trial and sentencing had been completed in a near-record time frame for a criminal case, the article noted that Miyamoto was appealing the sentence and the final outcome may take years to settle. It didn't really matter how long it took to arbitrate the man's appeals. Eiri was confidant that Miyamoto would never get out of jail.

"Maiko said everyone's well and they'd like us to visit when we get back." Shuichi dropped the note. "I'm glad Miymoto is in jail. I hope he stays there."

"Me, too. It's what he deserves." Shu nodded once in agreement. Eiri wondered if Shu ever felt vindictive about Taki's assault on him. Eiri would have liked to have seen that bastard get thrown in jail, too.

"Here's one I don't recognize, but it's addressed to both of us." Shuichi held out another envelope. Eiri took it. Kazekura? Hm. The return address listed was here, in Tokyo. He opened it and a snapshot photo fell out. It showed a large smiling man in a blue hospital gown, tucked into a hospital bed. At his bedside stood a pretty young lady holding flowers. He passed it to Shuichi and read the note. In a feminine hand, the letter thanked them profusely for covering all of Kazekura Tomoko's medical expenses and for sending the flowers. He was expected to make a full recovery. The picture was of the bouncer that had been shot, three months ago, pictured with his daughter.

Eiri passed the note to Shuichi, who burst into tears over it. "That's SO nice!" Both of them had wanted to do something to thank the man. Paying his hospital bills had been a simple matter, but important. The flowers had been Shu's idea. The singer sobbed and sniffled, blurring his words. Lots of translation practice on Eiri's part allowed him to decipher what Shu was saying. "I'm so glad he's okay. It says he's gonna be fine!" Shuichi climbed into Eiri's lap, burying his face in his lover's neck. "It could have been one of us. That bullet might have hit . . ."

"Shhh. Shuichi, he won't hurt anybody anymore. He can't." Eiri laid his hand on Shuichi's soft hair. "Everything's okay. Kazekura-san has probably already made his recovery. No one else was harmed. Miyamoto will never get out of jail," Eiri said, with the voice of conviction.

"You're right," Shu said with a little more clarity.

"I usually am," Eiri commented blithely. Shuichi giggled.

Author's Note: I had to do some research on Japanese legal issues to complete this epilogue. Essentially, capitol punishment was only an option for Miyamoto if someone had died, i.e. Miyamoto murdered the security guy. I wanted the poor guy to live, so I guess Miyamoto gets life in prison. That's harsh. It's worse than death, in my opinion. (Especially when you look at Japanese prison conditions!) Sorry, my bloodthirsty fans, but I couldn't have him hanged. Still, he'll get what he deserves, eh?

I am messing with the usual legal timeline . . . a sensational trial like this would normally take an absolute minimum of six months, but I wanted it to coincide with the end of Bad Luck's three-month-long tour. Artistic license at work! I hope you liked it.