Author's notes: And the conclusion of the "Sweet Love" saga. If it's only two parts, is it still considered a saga? Hmmm… Something to ponder on while you read this if you get bored.

(Note: This chapter is rated PG-13 for STRONG sexual content, and some f-word cussing, ^_^)

Sweet Nothings

Chapter 3:

Sweet Love Part 2

            Yuki Eiri drew in a deep breath through his nose until his lungs burned. The air whooshed out quickly in a near refreshing manner. He grumbled something under his breath, eyes closed, snuggling deeper into his bed.

            A small giggle caused his ears to perk.

            "You awake?" a melodic voice cooed.

            "Nggghhrr," the writer groaned. He cracked open one eyelid, golden-irises peeking out. "No," he responded gruffly.

            Shindou Shuichi peered back at him, violet eyes shimmering in mirth. The sunlight drifting in from the window backlit the singer brilliantly.

            Like waking up to an angel… Eiri blinked at his fleeting though, both eyes open now. His heart thudded in realization that this was the first time he had ever woken up next to his lover. Ungh… It's too early for this! he cried at his fluttering heart.

            "Good morning?" Shindou offered unsurely.

            "Mrr." Eiri rolled onto his back. "That's a contradiction…" he groaned, rubbing the back of a hand over his tired eyes.

            The novelist sucked in a slow breath when he felt the warmth of his lover's naked body curl up against him. The singer rested his head on Eiri's chest, just over his heart. The blonde could feel the boy's lips spread in a languid smile.

            "You're heart is pounding," Shindou breathed out through a giggle. Eiri shuddered at the breath wafting over his skin. The boy leaned up over Eiri's face. "Mine is, too."

            Eiri flushed when the singer grasped one of his hands with his own smaller ones. The hand was placed over Shindou's heart. Being no stranger to touching the little ball of energy, Eiri failed to understand why his lungs were tightening.

            We're beating in the same rhythm…

            "Must have been from dinner last night," the writer retorted brusquely, pulling his hand away.

            "Yuki." Shindou giggled again. He lied back down, next to his lover this time. "We didn't have dinner last night."

            "My point exactly."

            Shindou pulled the sheet up to his cheeks to hide his giggle. Eiri glanced over at the boy, knowing just by the glow in his eyes that the singer was smiling. The blonde reached out and ruffled the pink locks on Shindou's head. He could feel a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

            Gods, he's adorable… Eiri silently vowed that the boy was sleeping next to him from now on.

            Shindou emitted one of those delicious sighs that always drove Eiri to the edge. That was one of the novelist's favorite aspects of the boy. Even his sighs were melodious. No wonder Bad Luck was growing in popularity so fast.

            Eiri was about to open his mouth to say something uncouth, yet with all the intentions of being endearing, when a thunderous grumble bubbled up in his stomach. Both men blinked at each other, only staring wide-eyed for a moment. The singer recovered first.

            Shindou giggled, sitting up. "I guess I'll go make breakfast, then." He slipped out of the bed and, Eiri presumed, scampered to the bathroom to get his robe.

            The writer stretched, grateful for the promise of food.

            Then it hit him that Shindou Shuichi was making the abovementioned food.

            Eiri groaned. "I think I've lost my appetite…"

            Eiri desperately tried to suppress the childish grin that was pulling at his lips. It was so odd for him to feel like this, yet surprisingly natural. The smile threatened to grace his lips once more when Shindou continued his dance. The boy had been drumming his toes against Eiri's shins from across the table for a good five minutes now.

            The golden-haired man picked at his toasted bagel (that Shindou made surprisingly well), careful not to choke from his censored mirth. His lover had already finished his bowl of Frosted Flakes, or as Eiri liked to put it "something healthy that's covered with sugar just to make brats like you more hyper". The boy now occupied himself by doing a little jig on the writer's legs. The said writer was desperately trying to be his ignorant self, but was failing horrendously.

            "You're smiling," Shindou purred. Eiri clenched his jaw tightly. "It's cute, though!" the boy complained, apparently noticing the tensing action.

            Eiri cleared his throat. He pushed the unfinished bagel aside and downed the rest of his coffee, disregarding the burning of his esophagus that followed. The writer pushed his chair back from the table and briskly stood. No longer able to feel the tap dance on his leg, the said appendage felt cold and tingly.

            Shindou raised his eyebrows. "Where are you going?" He looked down at Eiri's plate. "You didn't finish." His face creased into a pout. "Did I make it bad?"

            Surprisingly, no…

            "I'm going to go out for a bit," the blonde responded, pushing his chair back in and carrying the plate over to the garbage pail. He tipped the plate, letting the bagel fall in, and then dropped the chinaware in the sink. "The fridge is near empty," he grumbled, turning back to his lover. "I'm going to the store.

            Shindou smiled playfully. "You're just sad you're out of beer and cigarettes."

            Nailed.

            Eiri scoffed and resisted the urge to either hurt the singer or kiss him madly. He spun on his heel and made his way down the hallway. The sound of Shindou's giggling echoed in his ears even after he couldn't hear it anymore.

            Eiri leaned against the wall adjacent to the front door while pulling on his shoes. He expertly kept his eyes adverted from the boy next to him. When Eiri had glanced over the first time he had to swallow the desire to "eat him up", to coin a phrase. The singer was just too blasted adorable, with his hair all ruffled from not brushing it out yet, and the bathrobe he wore hanging off his shoulders. Eiri had once contemplated on buying Shindou a bathrobe that actually fit, but decided against it when he saw the delectable sight his lover made.

            "Do you want me to come with you?" Eiri heard Shindou ask hesitantly.

            He made the mistake of looking up.

            Shindou was staring with gorgeous, wide, lavender eyes. His hands were curled up in little fists over his mouth. The bathrobe was drooping off his limbs just as Eiri had expected. The negligee that reached mid shin on the writer just missed kissing the ground on Shindou. It was all the older man could do just to shake his head and put on his other shoe.

            "Be safe then." Shindou leaned up and pecked Eiri on the cheek.

            Eiri turned his head away to hide the rising blush. He nodded numbly and stepped out the door, closing it reluctantly behind him. He exhaled slowly, leaning his back against the closed, cool wood of the door. He took shallow breaths, waiting for his heart to recede back to its usual rhythm.

            Before Eiri could fight it, he felt his mind being dragged towards his true destination: Nakano-san's house. It was time for him to find out, once and for all, what exactly happened to his excitable lover the other night.

            The writer reluctantly pulled away from the door, the warm, secure feeling of being near Shindou gradually evaporating with every step he took. By the time Eiri had arrived in the apartment building's parking lot, his whole body felt numb with an eerie coldness.

            What if I really don't want to know what happened? His mood soured dramatically as he unlocked his car and slipped inside. Why the hell should I care anyway? He's just some little punk brat that got in a nasty fight, right? Eiri revved the engine. He didn't move for a moment. Right?

            The golden-haired man knew subconsciously in the back of his mind that he was driving, but the active part of his mind was somewhere else completely. Never had his feelings towards someone tugged at his heart so much. Never had he been so worried about betraying someone's trust… After all, Shindou seemed dead-set that Eiri never find out what happened. And yet, here he was, a mere two miles from Nakano's apartment, ready to do anything it took to get the truth.

            And Eiri would get the truth. He always did.

            However, the problem of how he would get the truth began to penetrate into the writer's thoughts as he pulled into a parking space on the empty street outside Nakano's apartment. When getting his way Eiri would often use his seductive charms, which worked mostly only on women, except for a few straggling men here and there, but with Nakano that was most definitely not the case. And when that failed Eiri usually would have to resort to bribery, black mail, or, if worse came to worse, violence. He silently prayed as he neared the guitarist's door that it would not come to that. It was bad enough Eiri was trying to get the information, despite Shindou's resistance. The last thing he needed was to beat it out of Nakano. The writer was already going to be on thin ice with his lover once the singer found out Eiri knew the truth.

            But – Eiri poised his hand to knock on door 201 – what was the truth? And why the bloody hell do I care so much?!

Eiri felt his fist thud on the door harder then he anticipated, unable to control the sudden surge of vehemence directed towards himself and Shindou. He glared ice daggers at the golden plaque that read Nakano's apartment number. A piece of loose-leaf was taped haphazardly under the plaque and read: Nakano Hiroshi (in what Eiri presumed to be the guitarist's surprisingly neat handwriting). The plaque seemed to get smaller and farther away suddenly. Eiri blinked. The door was opening.

Nakano stood, holding the door open with one hand, the other running through his long brown hair. A blue-tie-dye guitar pick hung from his lip. He promptly dropped it into the latter hand.

"Yuki-san," he managed uneasily. "What are you doing here?"

Eiri's eyes were hard and steady, despite the flipping of his stomach.

I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here…

"We need to talk." The writer stuffed his hands into his pockets roughly. "Now."

            "Oh, uh… okay…" Nakano stammered warily. He shifted on his feet.

The brunette watched Eiri carefully. The said writer arched an eyebrow. He nodded his head towards the inside of Nakano's apartment with a "Well…?" look in his eyes. The guitarist blinked.

"Right, sorry." He fidgeted, swinging the door open wider, gesturing for Eiri to enter. "Come in," he added, completely flustered. As he closed the door behind Eiri he asked: "I'm gathering this is about Shuichi…?"

            "Why else would I be here?" the older man snapped, toeing off his shoes. He took a quick glance of the oddly neat studio apartment.

            "Right." Nakano sat down on the bed parallel to his couch. Eiri sat down opposite him. "Well, what's up?"

            The writer crossed his legs, shifting comfortably in the plush blue couch. It was odd to feel so physically comfortable, when his mind was reeling. "Want to tell me what happened the other night?"

            Nakano's face didn't flinch. "What night?"

            "Don't screw with me, Hiroshi," Eiri bit out. "I don't need your damn games. The night the brat didn't come home and claimed he was here."

            "Oh, right. That night." The guitarist was the vision of innocence. Eiri nearly spat. "We both got drunk, cuz it was a hard day at the studio." Nakano paused, smiling. "And I'm sure you know how he is when he's drunk. But, anyway, since I was a little tipsy, too, we decided that it'd be the best thing if he just spent the night here."

            The blonde wasn't buying a damn bit of it. "Uh-huh. Nice try." Eiri leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Want to tell me the truth this time?"

            "Wha…" Nakano pulled back slightly, eyes bewildered. "Yuki-san, I am telling you the truth."

            "Hiroshi, you know I'm a man of persuasion." Eiri was glaring, voice slick and confident. "Don't make me hurt you."

            The brunette didn't respond for a moment. Stalling for time, perhaps?

"Tell me, Yuki-san…" Nakano began slowly, deliberately. "Why do you care?"

            Eiri wasn't expecting that. He blinked, taken slightly aback. "What?"

            "Do you love him?"

            The sheer informality of how Nakano asked it so bluntly made Eiri shiver. He didn't like this. Not one bit. The tables were being turned. Instead of Nakano being on edge, the younger man had found his footing. We're on his ground, Eiri reminded himself. And Nakano was using that to his advantage. If there was one topic that kept Yuki Eiri on his toes, it was love.

            "What the hell does that have to do with anything?!" Eiri growled, trying to feign as if he wasn't affected by the question. There was no way he was going to let this brat know that he was cornered.

            "Do you?"

            Persistent little son of…

            The blonde didn't respond. What was there to say? No matter how much he tried, he couldn't ignore the pull at his heart when ever Shuichi was around. And he never seemed to be able to get the singer out of his head. If he didn't care, then why would he be so bothered by the bruises? Why would he be so worried…?

            No, God, stop it! Eiri yelled at himself. It's not like that!

            He looked away in a futile attempt to rid himself of the question. He barely even realized that his brow was knitted together in a painful thought.

            "You can't answer that, can you?" Nakano asked lowly.

            Eiri snapped out of his self-loathing and whipped his head back to Nakano, eyes hard.

            "Shut up and answer the god dammed question!" the older man yelled, fists clenching.

            Nakano was still wearing his poker face. He didn't seem altered at all by Eiri's sudden outburst. "Why can't you say it?" His voice was soft and low, prodding delicately on such a heart-wrenching subject.

            "Will you shut your damn mouth?!" Eiri's voice was beginning to give him away, as if his temper wasn't already doing the job. He had to get himself back in check. And fast.

            "Fine."

            Eiri blinked. Fine? That's it?

            There was complete silence.

            Realization dawned on the writer that Nakano was taking him literally – very literally. The guitarist was going to keep his mouth shut and not say another word. Eiri's eye ticked.

            "That's not what I meant," he began dangerously. He was loosing patience.

            Nakano didn't move.

            "Christ, Hiroshi!!" Eiri screamed. He gripped onto the side of the couch to restrain himself from jumping up. It was a rare occurrence that he should lose his temper this drastically. "I will beat it out of you! Don't put it past me!!" he warned, tone low and sharp.

            Nakano was raising his eyebrows, still confident of himself. He slowly began to speak. "… So you do care about what happens to him?"

            "Of course I – Will you just answer the question, god dammit?!" the older man continued fervently, not able to fully catch himself in time.

            The brunette slumped. Eiri watched in a confused manner as the confidence of the younger man before him dissipated. No more games…

 "He…" Nakano began softly. "Look, Yuki-san, I don't really know where your feelings for him lie, but I do know where Shuichi's lie." He looked down, eyes gentle. "And my God, it scares me every time he has to do something to prove that to you." He looked up, eyes hard now, but not angry. "You have no idea how much he cares about you. No, don't look at me like that, you know it's true. You… you don't even understand the half of it."

            Eiri's face was speculating. "Well, maybe if you told me…"

            "He didn't go to work today, did he?" Nakano asked quickly.

            "Uh… no," the writer replied, thinking back. "He said he had the day off."

            Nakano's face was becoming sharp. "And he will tomorrow, too. And the day after that. And the day after that. You know why, Yuki-san?" The brunette was glaring now. "Because he quit."

            "He did what?!" Eiri cried, leaning forward. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened slightly.

            "It's true," was all the guitarist said. He watched Eiri carefully.

            "No, no, no. Don't you give me that reprimanding look. I had nothing to do with his idiocy!" the blonde growled in his defense, shaking his head.

            "Oh? You didn't?" Nakano's brow was arched. He had an oddly irritated look on his face. "You want to know the truth, right? Well, then, here's the truth." His voice was quick and harsh. "You know the band ASK, part of NG Productions? Well, they aren't exactly the nicest bunch."

            "Shuichi told me," Eiri cut in.

            "Well, Aizawa, their lead signer, 'befriended' Shuichi." A heavy scowl made it's way to the younger man's lips. "The son of a bitch brought Shuichi back to his place and then gave him a drink or two. The next thing Shuichi knew, two big guys were walking in the room and Aizawa was standing over Shuichi, laughing that sick laugh of his.

"They dragged him somewhere – Shuichi doesn't remember where exactly, since he wasn't fully sober. By the time he got there, though, he was beginning to sober up, and found himself thrown on the hard pavement of a parking garage. The two big buys picked him up and Shuichi kept trying to squirm away. I'm gathering you saw the bruises? Yes, well, that was their doing.

"Aizawa was watching the whole thing, camera in hand. Soon Shuichi stopped fighting and let them have their way."

            Eiri's head was spinning. He didn't remember bringing his hand up to cover his mouth, but there it lay, trembling over his parted lips. His mouth was painfully parched, and the bile was sloshing against his esophagus. He had never felt so nauseous in his life. 

            Eiri tried to think, he really did, but his brain was still attempting to compute what was just told to it. The sheer gruesomeness of the whole situation kept the usually articulate writer from speaking. Nakano's words continued to flood his mind and the horrific images that followed.

After a few moments Eiri manage to croak a small "They…?" out.

            Nakano's face was drooping and sad. He shook his head slowly. "Shuichi wasn't raped, Yuki-san…" he answered almost inaudibly.

            Eiri nearly cried with relief. However, hearing the word "rape" in the same sentence as "Shuichi" was still highly unsettling. Despite the incredible liberation of such horrifying thoughts, Eiri was still close to gagging.

            If he wasn't raped, then what did they do to him?

            "So he's…" The older man paused, not sure how to word his question. The irony of a writer not knowing what to say was almost laughable. Almost. "He's okay…?"

            No, not okay… If he was okay he wouldn't have those bruises. If he was okay he wouldn't have been so terrified.

            "He…" Nakano just continued to shake his head "He wasn't raped," he repeated, a bit louder this time.

            Eiri didn't respond.

Not raped – good, that's good. He wasn't raped, he wasn't raped – he's okay. No, no he's not okay. Hiro would have said if he was okay, but he's not okay because he was crying, and crying people are not okay –and my GOD what the HELL DID THEY DO TO HIM?!

            "I don't know the specifics…" the guitarist began once more. He was watching Eiri closely. His brown eyes were hard, yet understanding. "He was crying too hard…" the brunette explained.

            Eiri couldn't take it any longer. He tried to keep his thoughts under control, and when that failed he was at least still keeping his mouth under control. But he went loose.

"Why the hell would they do that?!" the novelist cried in desperation. His own reputation for being calm and aloof was long forgotten. This was, after all, Shuichi we were dealing with here.

            "Because Aizawa is one fucked up guy," Nakano answered nonchalantly. And Eiri had always thought he was one with no tact…  "They said that Shuichi had to quit Bad Luck, otherwise he'd use the pictures against him, our band, and you. That's why Shuichi quit."

            "That idiot!" Eiri cried, nearly jumping from his seat again. "How could he do something like that?! Bad Luck is his dream!"

            Nakano's steady gaze never faltered. "That's how much he loves you, Yuki-san."

            Eiri blinked, lips parted. He knew Shuichi cared about him, but… love? He never said anything about being in love with me… And for some reason, hearing it from Nakano was highly convincing.

            The older man couldn't find the ability to speak.

            "You have no idea…" Nakano began once more, voice beginning to slightly waver. "You're such a lucky bastard," he cried, finally loosing control, "and all you do is hurt people!"

            Eiri pulled his head back the slightest, perplexed. "What?"

            "You only live for yourself, Yuki-san!" the brunette growled, jumping up from his seat on the bed. "You only give a damn about your own life! What the hell do you care if some teenage boy is madly in love with you?!" His eyes were wild and his fists were clenched. Eiri had never seen the vibrant young man so vehement before. "What the hell do you care if you break his heart?! What do you care if you're breaking Ayaka's hea—" Nakano gasped, abruptly cutting himself off, shocking the older man before him and himself.

            "You—"

            "Oh God… No, shit, I'm sorry…" The guitarist stumbled backwards, nearly falling back onto the bed. Eiri noted the boy's hands were trembling. "Look, I… But, you just…" he stuttered. He watched Eiri a moment longer, eyes still wide with disbelief. After a moment he sighed loudly, shoulders slumping. He eased himself back down on the bed wearily. "Ugh, forget it…"

            A slow smile spread across Eiri's lips, but nothing genuine. He's quite amusing… "You love Ayaka, don't you?"

            Nakano's lips moved for a moment, but no sound left them. He paused, thinking. "… I… I don't know…"

            Eiri sighed in mild amusement. He dipped his head back to lean on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes. "Ayaka's naïve. She'll forget about me soon enough, and then you can be with her." He opened his eyes, leering at the ceiling. "I need to take care of one relationship at a time, thanks. Shuichi's the most important one to me right now. I'll deal with the girl later."

            "Yuki-san, you—"

            "You tell him I said that, and you die," the novelist responded with a scowl, still watching the ceiling.

            "Right." A ghost of a smile graced the brunette's lips. Eiri watched out of his peripheral vision. He felt a mild hint of relief for the young guitarist, but then Shindou began to flood his mind again.

            "… This Aizawa…" he began, pulling his head forward to watch Nakano. "Where can I find him?"

            Losing control…

            Ma's eyes were still determined behind the mess of dirty-blonde bangs that fell in front of them.

            I can't handle it…

            Eiri's eyes, however, were more determined, more…

            Animalistic…

            "Yuki-san, don't, please!"

            It's taking me over…

            Ken continued to plead for Eiri's release of his friend, and Ma's eyes grew more terrified by the minute.

            Yes… tremble… Be terrified… Fear me…

            Eiri could feel the hole of his past ripping through him into a blood-red oblivion.

            No… no no no no no no…!

            Aizawa merely watched, not saying a word. Ken continued to pray. Ma just stared, eyes impossibly wide.

            MAKE IT STOP!

            Eiri drew back his hand and felt the crack of flesh and bone under his knuckles as he made contact with Ma's cheek.

            The hole tore open. He was blinded by blood.

            Eiri quickly wiped the smear of blood off of his nose that sprayed from Ma's mouth. The younger man was thrown back against the wall; eyes closed tightly, mouth bubbling with his life vitae from the hit. Eiri's mind was screaming at him to stop, but his fists were now acting on their own. The past had been released, and he was acting on instinct. Previously to save himself, and now to save the one he… he what?

            Another punch.

            Sensei… sensei, make it stop don't do it sensei please stop i don't want to hurt you and i can't take and i just want it all to stop because if it doesn't i might… i might…

            "MA-KUN!"

            Eiri was blinded completely. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew where the young guitarist lay, and just the right places to punch.

            "Tachi, this is you're fault! Make him stop!"

            Aizawa didn't say a word. Ken cried out more. Ma screamed and gurgled in pain. He wasn't even putting up a fight anymore.

            Sensei i took you're name as punishment and i live with it everyday but i don't want it anymore and i don't want this and what will by my punishment this time?

            Eiri could feel Ma trembling under his hands. A blow to the stomach had the boy gagging. Ken's begs were drowned out. Aizawa's heavy breathing was heard in the background.

            Sensei i swear i didn't meant to hurt you but you did it and you started it and i didn't want to cause you pain sensei i just wanted it all to stop and i couldn't take it and oh god sensei please oh please oh please make it stop stop stop stop STOP!

            "You're insane…" the vocalist of ASK breathed. Eiri could barely hear it.

            He pummeled Ma harder. The blonde squeaked in a desperate plea for help. Ken was openly sobbing now.

            Sensei i loved you did you know that? yes you did didn't you? which is why you did it because you knew i loved you and you took advantage of that took advantage of a sixteen year old boy in love with his teacher and it just wasn't right and you took advantage of it and you didn't care and i loved you sensei i swear it and i still loved you long after you were dead and i felt so bad and god sensei i miss you so much!

            Ma wasn't making anymore noises. He was slumped in a heap on the floor, head hung, blood dripping from his face to stain his previously white shirt. The stains bled together to make one blur of crusty red. Eiri pulled back. There was no fun in punching him when he was unconscious. And yet, Eiri found amusement in the stains. He watched in fascination as the stain grew larger with each drop that fell from Ma's busted lip.

            but i gave up sensei because you were gone and it was all those years ago and i gave up on you and i stopped loving you but i kept your name as a constant reminder and every time i get a paycheck i remember you because without you i would never have learned to write so well

            Eiri took a few steps back, admiring his work. A sick smile parted his lips. He slowly turned his head to where Ken stood shaking, eyes wide behind the sunglasses, tears streaming down his flushed face. Aizawa stood next to him, trying to keep his composure, but failing miserably.

            "Who's next?"

            but sensei i don't love you anymore i just miss you and i wish you were here because you would tell me that it was all going to be ok but no no no you're gone long long gone and you're never coming back because it's all your fault sensei if you hadn't done it sensei you'd still be alive and we'd be happy and I wouldn't be like this sensei I wouldn't be trying to kill again and I wouldn't have built up all these defenses…

            "You're insane…" Aizawa repeated. Eiri's ears perked.

            "No," the writer drawled, voice deep and low. "Not insane." He took a step towards the two still standing. Ken shrunk back. "I'm here to protect Shu-chan."

            but then he came sensei and changed it all just like you did you ruined me sensei but i loved you and I let you and you screwed up my whole life just like he is and he just barged in besides all my warnings and he ruined it all and now i'm defenseless again and i can't take it because the man i loved was you sensei and you destroyed it all and I don't want him to destroy it because I just want to be happy sensei but I don't know if that's possible…

            "What do you want?" Aizawa breathed, pressing himself against the wall as the older man neared. Next to him Ken tried desperately to shrink into the shadows of the dimly lit room, but to no avail.

            "I want the film."

            Ma gurgled softly behind Eiri. Aizawa's eyes darted over to his friend nervously.

            "He's in bad condition," the older blonde began, causing the vocalist to shift his gaze back to the man nearing him. "The sooner you give me the film, the sooner you can get him to the hospital." Another gurgle. "He needs it."

            will he hurt me like you did to me sensei? is everything i'm doing right now in vain? am i loosing control again and going to wind up killing someone again because of you sensei? or is it his fault because i cant help but… but… oh god sensei I love him…!

            Aizawa gulped, a pained expression on his face. His hands trembled at his sides. Eiri stepped forward so that the toes of their shoes were brushing. The writer leaned his palm against the wall right next to Aizawa's head. The latter man flinched.

            "Well?" Eiri question patiently. The manic gleam never left his eyes.

            "For God's sake, Tachi!!" Ken screamed from his slinking in the corner. "Give him the fucking film, you ass!!"

            "Smart keyboardist you have there, Aizawa-kun." Eiri flashed a grin, his teeth clenched. "Are you going to listen to him? Or should I beat it out of him a few more times?"

            i don't want to love him sensei don't want to do it i don't want to be in love again because it hurts and i cant take it anymore and i don't want to be in pain and i don't want to kill anymore but my body is working without me because i love him so much and i just want to save him but i cant because i'm a killer and i'm a horrible person and its hurting him and its hurting me and i don't want to be in love anymore!

            Aizawa didn't move or speak. Eiri's smile never faltered.

            "All right then…" The writer pulled back and stepped to the side. He turned to face Ken. "One down, two to go. You first," he rumbled, eyeing the terrified Ken.

            i don't want to hurt anymore but it feels so good when he's around and why oh why can't it be easy to be in love? why can't i just be happy with him?!

            Ken's lips were crying out in a silent plea, but his voice just came out I small, raspy squeaks. Eiri's looming shadow fell over the man with the out of place sunglasses. The keyboardist ducked his head and covered himself with his arms as Eiri raised his fist.

            why can't i just love him?!

            "Hang on tight," Eiri hissed, releasing his blow.

            JUST MAKE IT STOP!

            "WAIT!!"

            Eiri froze, mid-punch. He blinked, face blank. Ken's sunglasses slipped down his sweated nose to reveal wide, blood-shot eyes. Both men turned to look at Aizawa, who's mouth still hung open slightly from his cry.

            "Did you change your mind?" Eiri asked, turning fully from Ken. Aizawa nodded. "Smart man."

            Aizawa held out a shaking, clammy hand. He uncurled his trembling fingers to reveal a roll of film. Eiri breathed hard out his nose in a sign of amusement.

            "This is it," the singer began, voice wavering. "It was never developed. Take it." He jerked his hand slightly in offering. Eiri took it. "Ma and Ken had nothing to do with it.

            "Aw, and you tell me that now after I had all my fun?" Eiri's smile spread. Aizawa shuddered.

            sensei.. what should i do…?

            "Tachi," Ken began, "you asshole."

            Eiri snickered. "I sense some hostility."

            "The hostility is coming from you," Aizawa bit out. He blinked after he finished what he was saying. A terrified look crossed his features. His hand was about to fly to his mouth, but he regained his composure in time.

            "Possibly," the writer crooned. He stuffed the film in his pocket. "But it's not nice to insult an 'insane' person, is it, Aizawa-kun?"

            The said man shuddered terribly. His teeth chattered despite his attempts at restraint. "Look, I just hired the two guys for that one time. We'll never see each other again. If you want to hunt them down, then leave me—" Ken glared "us out of it."

            Sensei… let me go! let me love him!

            "Fine." Eiri flashed one more sick grin at the two men and made his way for the door. "Thank you for your cooperation." As he passed the unconscious Ma, he paused. "Oh," the writer added, turning back to Aizawa for a moment. "If you ever lay a finger on Shu-chan again, I will not hesitate to put you in a worse condition then your friend here." Eiri emphasized his statement by giving the comatose aforementioned man a nudge with his foot.

            "You're not a writer…" Aizawa spoke softly, stopping Eiri just as he began to open the door. "Writer's don't have frenzied eyes like that… Those are the eyes of an animal…"

            "No." Eiri cocked his head back, golden eyes hard and glaring. "These are the eyes of a killer."

            Eiri stumbled wearily into the bathroom adjacent from the room he just left. He closed the door behind him, trying to barricade himself away from the room across the hall that held a near comatose Ma, a sobbing Ken, and a terrified Aizawa. He slid down the length of the door.

            Eiri took in shallow gulps of air, trying to bring himself back to his senses. He stared unseeingly to the stark white ceiling. His chest rose and fell painfully with his pants. Hastily dragging a hand across his forehead Eiri wiped away the beads of sweat that gathered there. He sighed heavily after a moment and finally regained some of his composure.

            The novelist waited another moment before reaching into the compartment in his pants. His eyes were still glued the ceiling as his fingers wrapped around the film in his pocket. His dull, amber eyes drifted down to rest on his removed, clenched hand. The fingers uncurled. His stomach lurched at the small object in his palm.

            The curiosity began to swell again. There, gnawing in the back of his head, sat a demon whispering thoughts of torment and molestation. As Eiri felt the weight of the film in his hand the demon began to whisper more urgently. It was eating away at him; eroding him.

            A moment later found Eiri on his knees with his head craned back. His arms were held above his head and a strip of exposed film in his hands. He squinted at them through the florescent lighting on the bathroom ceiling. He brought the miniature photos closer to his eyes. A second later and the pictures were coming into full focus.

            Time passed; time with Eiri frozen on the tile floor, staring with unbelievably wide eyes at the pictures before him. More time passed and Eiri could feel the tears stinging behind his eyes. More time and the whole roll had been looked through. A little bit longer and the film dropped from the writer's trembling hands. Soon the sweat was breaking out again. Even sooner was the toilet lid lifted. And a short time after that Eiri was racking with dry gags as the remains of his morning coffee and bagel scratched their acidic way up his throat.

            Eiri let out a tearless sob as his stomach revolted on him. No longer was his breakfast. He gripped the sides of the toilet in a cold sweat as bile ripped its way up his esophagus. He gagged helplessly.

            'He wasn't raped' Hiro said…

            Eiri struggled to breathe in between bouts of hacking.

            Not raped… But…

            The tears never came, which the blonde was grateful for.

            But he was damn close…

            After a moment, when the rebellion ceased, Eiri opened his eyes. He quickly pulled his head back so he didn't have to look at his insides that now inhabited the toilet. He leaned against the wall behind him and sprawled his legs out.

            But… not raped…

            Part of Eiri wondered whether he was relieved or terrified. Even after Hiro had said Shindou wasn't raped, the writer was still concerned. He had to see it for himself. But, the boy wasn't raped, so that was reason to thankful, right? But they did touch him. They did hurt him. They did

            Eiri's eyes fell to the abandoned roll of film on the floor. The pictures had deteriorated from the exposure. Even though the evidence was ruined, the images were still burned into Eiri's mind. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. The pictures bombarded him and the demon laughed. 

            "Yuuuuuukiiii?!"

            The said man's eyes snapped open. Surely that wasn't just a hallucination…

            "Yuki?! Where are you??"

            Eiri sucked in a deep breath. The taste of bile lingered on his tongue. He picked up the film and tossed it into the garbage. He stood shakily and flushed the dirtied toilet.

            "Yuki! Are you OK?!"

            As he sloshed water around the inside of his mouth, the blonde wondered just how the hell the boy knew he was at NG Studios…

            "Yuki…?"

            He took a cleansing breath and attempted at being callous.

            "YUKI!!!"

            Eiri slammed the door open. "I'm right here, will you shut the fu—"

            The older man's voice got caught in his throat as the sight before him sunk in. There Shindou Shuichi stood, in all his school girl glory. Patent leather loafers adorned his feet. White knee-highs were bunched carelessly. A pleated navy skirt swung on his hips a few inches above his knees. A sailoresque shirt hung loosely on his torso and revealed just a thin line of stomach. His hair was pulled back haphazardly into a crooked and bumpy ponytail. Eiri could feel a tick in his eye.

            "Ah, Yuki!" The boy grinned lopsidedly. "How are you?"

            Eiri's mind stopped for a moment, took a quick breather, did a rewind, double-take, and then picked up at twice the speed to compensate for lost time. He quickly realized all he was doing was staring, and decided to regain what little composure he still had going for him. Eiri breathed heavily from his nostrils and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He tossed Shindou a glare and brushed by him down the hall.

            "Hey! Yuki!"

            Eiri closed his eyes and sighed, trying to ignore the boy. As he strutted down the hall in defiance, the roll of film played like a slideshow in his mind's-eye. He cringed and picked up the pace.

            "Yuki!! Wait up!!"

            Shindou's only reply was the harsh click of the writer's heels against the crisp white tile of NG Studios.

            "This pretty girl right here is asking you to wait, GOD DAMMIT!!!"

            Eiri could feel the agitation building up and the agony dissipating. Had he not been growing more annoyed by the second he might have felt guilty about it. Alas, Eiri only bit back "I hope to Christ you're not referring to yourself, you sick bastard."

            "And you call yourself a MAN!!"

            The novelist scoffed and rolled his eyes. He exited through the automatic doors, only pausing before them for a beat, so the boy wouldn't catch up. "That's not a term you should be using, freak."

            The blonde had expected Shindou to cry out something in anger, or whine, or maybe run faster and tackle the older man from behind. However, no such thing occurred. Eiri paused in a sudden jerk in his venture down the street when he was greeted with silence. He blinked, no longer hearing the boy-in-female's-clothing rapid steps behind him.

            "Yuki…?"

            Eiri's ears perked. That was an awfully misplaced whimper… Usually Shindou would bite back when such verbal banter passed between the two men. The younger would only whimper like that when Eiri shot him a cold glare, or denied him of what little affection the writer offered.

            The images from the roll of film suddenly bombarded Eiri's mind once more. He sucked in a quick breath as his stomach jolted and he felt the muscles in his neck and jaws tighten considerably.

            "What?" he snapped, more at his nauseated body than Shindou

            The writer shut his eyes painfully, but that only made the pictures claw at his psyche even worse. With a bit of reluctance he parted his lids again, staring unwaveringly at the street before him. He took a slow breath, waiting patiently for his lover's reply, but too afraid to face him. God only knows what sights his mind would conjure if he was to look into those miserable, violet eyes…

            Eiri parted his lips as he felt a weak tug on his sleeve. He turned his head on instinct to the pull as he heard a small thud from behind him. His eyes widened when the site of Shindou crumpled on the ground caught his eye – the boy clinging weakly to Eiri's sleeve. The golden-eyed man tried to speak, did everything in his power to make even the slightest sound, but he felt his whole world swirling in a miasma of a revolting aura he couldn't quite place.

Seeing Shindou, down on the ground like that, reaching out for the one he loved – well, it made Eiri physically sick. He wasn't able to save the boy, and yet there Shindou was, down and beaten, stretching out for Eiri with whatever strength he had left. Eiri found it ironic. To a by-passer, with a semi-abstract way of viewing things, it would seem as though a fallen warrior (if one ignored the school-girl uniform) was leaning against a rigid pillar for support as he regained his strength. Yet, in the reality of it all, Eiri was about to collapse himself.

            The things you do to me, you fool… the author mentally grumbled pathetically.           

            "Yuki…?" There it was again; that almost inaudible whimper. Eiri felt his knees buckle dangerously.

            The blonde sighed. There was no need for a response. He turned his head away and stared unseeingly through the staring throng of people coming to and fro. He took a deep breath, trying to clean his system and regulate himself.

            "Don't…"

            The writer's ears perked. 'Don't'?

            "… be mad…"

            Eiri felt his gut tighten.

            "Don't… hate me…"

            The tears were prickling behind his eyes. He blinked defiantly, clearing them away.

            "I didn't mean… to…"

            Eiri didn't breathe for a moment. He waited, his lungs stretching painfully, straining to hear Shindou's next line.

It never came.

            Eiri inhaled slowly and as deep as he could. It wasn't because he needed the extra air, or because he relished in the feel of his lungs screaming in an over-filled protest – but because he needed something, something to assure him that he was truly not dreaming. He held the breath. The sharp zing of his lungs about to burst bubbled in his chest. He frowned at the boy lying in his bed before him, as if it was all the pink-haired youth's fault. The pain in his ribcage was real, and the situation before him was just as painfully real as well. His lungs were now burning with something more – the need for the air to be released, and new air take its place. The scowl on the writer's lips deepened.

            "No more."

            Eiri exhaled heavily, unable to take the burden of fire in his lungs any longer. It was almost soothing – physically, at least. Emotionally, Eiri was just as distraught. His eyes never wavered from one Shindou Shuichi that occupied his bed, despite the turmoil in his chest.

            "God, please," Eiri whispered softly, "no more."

            In all his twenty-one years, Yuki Eiri, or, rather, Uesugi Eiri, had never prayed – especially not to God. Being the son of a monk, Eiri was expected to pray to Buddha. However, he was also expected to follow in his father's footsteps, and it was painfully obvious to anyone with a pulse that it would never happen. As such, when the word 'God' was to pass the lips of the aloof novelist, he couldn't help but feel how out of place the title hung in the air. Still, if praying would work…

            Shit, I'm pathetic… Eiri groaned mentally. He adverted his eyes away from the slumbering Shindou. You damn brat, look at what you're doing to me…. He closed his eyes painfully. Look at what you're doing to yourself. His golden-eyes made themselves known once more, and they slid back to the singer's sleeping form, as if to further his point.

            Shindou Shuichi was sprawled out on his back, legs tossed haphazardly. He was positioned the way Eiri had laid him down, completely still in his sleep. The boy's school-girl skirt was bunched up in what would, in any other situation, be an extreme turn-on. When Eiri had first noticed the flash of feminine panties that kept Shindou's not-so-masculine parts covered, he actually found his first real hint of amusement in the past 24 hours. However, the amusement faded when amber eyes caught a glimpse of the bruises and discolorations that blotched the boy's skin. 

            A shuddering sigh tore its way past Eiri's pale lips. In the past half hour (of the author gathering the unconscious form of his lover into his arms, dumping him in the car, and driving him to the apartment they inhabited) Eiri had a lot of time to think. All of said thinking was done sitting in a highly uncomfortable chair next to the golden-haired man's bed, where Shindou currently slumbered. The lights were off, for Eiri felt the intrusion of such a thing would only act to further his migraine. What he needed right now was some peace and quiet, in a dimly lit room, where there was no one to annoy him and invade his thoughts.

            Shindou stirred slightly for the first time since he had collapsed. Eiri's muscles tightened unconsciously. He watched the boy before him carefully all while mentally muttering about the irony of the situation. Just when he thought he'd get some time to himself, the singer decided to wake up. The writer's thoughts were cut off further when Shindou let out a small whimper.

            Just as well, I suppose. Eiri watched as the boy's lips parted just the slightest and his eyebrows quivered. I've thought about it all enough…

            Yuki Eiri pushed himself up from the hard wooden seat that usually inhabited the area just next to the author's desk. If Shindou could sit in the damn thing for hours on end, just watching Eiri write, then he was sure he'd able to manage for a little while watching the boy sleep. His spine cracked as he stood and his backside burned in an odd numb-yet-not-numb-enough sensation. He pushed the chair aside and leaned himself against the wall, never taking cool-amber eyes off his groaning lover.

            "Yu…" Shindou managed hoarsely, eyes beginning to flutter open.

            "I didn't think you were going to wake up," Eiri stated plainly, face like stone. Inwardly he flinched at how roughly his voice cut the air.

            Shindou's eyes snapped open wide at what Eiri presumed to be the realization of the singer's surroundings. The writer cringed just the slightest when he saw his lover jolt upright and swing his head around to meet the older man's gaze. The boy grimaced at the sudden movement. Eiri thought his heart was going to burst.

            "Yuki!" Shindou cried softly. "You—"

            "How are you feeling?" Whatever level of meaning that questioned might have contained was completely subdued but Eiri's deadpan expression.

            "Fine!" the pink-haired man chirped, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I feel fine! Sorry to worry you about before, Yuki. I'm really OK now!" Shindou stood up, smile wide, but eyes dull. "So, I better get going, huh? I didn't want to wo—"

            "Knock it off!!"

            The singer gasped and fell back on the bed in shock from the sudden outburst. He stared up at Eiri, violet eyes wide and scared. The blonde was glaring back vehemently.

            "Just stop," Eiri hissed dangerously. "Stop acting like everything's OK when it's not." He clenched his jaw against the tightening in his chest. No, I promised myself I wouldn't do this… Wouldn't get any further involved…

            "Yuki…" Shindou began slowly, a worried tone lacing his voice. He stood shakily. "Really… It's fine…"

            "Shut up, you idiot." Eiri inhaled, his lungs quivering. He took a hesitant step forward, landing himself toe to toe with his younger lover. "Don't smile when you don't really feel like smiling… It makes me sick."

            "Yuki, I…" Shindou's mouth hung open, as if he had more to say, more to refute, but no words came. He watched Eiri with wide eyes for a moment longer and then finally slumped. He sighed heavily and hung his head. "I just… don't want you mad at me… I don't want you to hate me… or tell me to get out… or… or…"

            "Shhh…" The novelist reached his arms out and slipped them possessively around the smaller man. Eiri pulled the singer close to his chest and buried his face in strawberry hair. "You don't have to worry about that anymore…" Eiri looked out to the wall just beyond the bed, glaring at it harshly, though his voice remained soft. He tried to calm the throbbing of his heart as Shindou snuggled closer. "I'm never going to tell you to get out or to leave… never again, Shu…" Eiri's arms around the boy tightened and his forehead creased in determination.

            Shindou sniffed and rubbed his cheek against the writer's shoulder, causing his skin to tingle. "Oh, Yuki…" he moaned softly.

            "Because…" The blonde's fingers curled around the fabric of Shindou's shirt. "Because I'll be the one to leave you."

            The vocalist jerked back in his older lover's embrace. His eyes seared into Eiri's own. Iris pupils swam with horror and a broken disillusioned hope. He clung desperately to Eiri's shirt so deeply that Shindou's nails marred the flesh beneath. The writer could visibly see the trembling breaths the boy took and knew the feeling all too well.

            "You'll go to sleep," the blonde continued, trying to keep his face cool and his heart calm, "and when you wake up I'll be gone."

            "Yuki, don't!!" Shindou cried, tugging on the grip he had on Eiri's shirt. "Oh please, don't do this!! Why?! Why are you doing this, Yuki?!"

            "Because I can't be around you anymore." The undeniable truth of his statement scared Eiri more then he expected it would. For both our sakes, Shu-chan…

            The tears were forming now; desperate tears that swelled in violet eyes, threatening to overspill. Eiri felt his gut clench. How he hated it when Shindou cried… Even though he had seen the boy wail numerous times it didn't make it hurt any less. Knowing that he was the cause of those tears made the guilt deepen.

            "Yuki…" Shindou pleaded softly, "please…"

            "Shhh…" Eiri leaned down and brushed his lips tenderly against his lover's own. "You won't have to worry anymore…"

            The singer continued to whimper in protest even as Eiri hushed him with quite words and soft kisses. Eiri held the boy up when he felt Shindou's knees give way to gentle caresses and stabbing, albeit shushed, words. The novelist's lips kissed away the salty tears that now ran down the younger man's flushed cheeks. Eiri could feel the heat of the suppressed sobs on Shindou's skin and heard the murmured choking sounds in the back of the boy's throat. The blonde pressed his mouth against the pink-haired man's ear and whispered a demand for the singer to "let go". Shindou broke down at those two words.

            Eiri laid the clinging, sobbing singer down on the bed he only just recently left. The writer brushed his fingers across Shindou's forehead, pushing away misplaced waves of pink hair. The younger man pulled at Eiri's shirt, crying out for him not to go. Eiri's stone face never wavered.

            "I'll stay until you fall asleep," were the last words that passed the novelist's lips, and what he surmised to be that last words the two men would ever share.

Author's Notes: Now, in case you forgot, this is the TRUE ending to "Sweet Love". You may be thinking "No! She's going to leave the ending at that?! What happened to the usually sap she writes where everyone lives happily ever after?!". And for those of you who may be thinking that (or something along those lines), don't fret!! After this I'm going to start another chapter to the "Sweet Nothings" collection (I'm not sure what it will be yet), just to get a break from this angstiness… And then I will write "Sweet Persistence" (Thank you for that title, Aira-sama!!) which will be sort of a continuation of  "Sweet Love". It's going to be the story when Shindou dresses as Ayaka to steal Eiri back from his parent's house. And we all love cross-dressing Shindou! XD (Aira-sama's original idea for the title was  "Sweet Drag Queen" – I love her). So, look forward to it, okee dokee?! XD (The next chapter will probably be some what of a comedy. I plan on starting it this week once I get an idea.)

Read and Review, please.