(A) Not mine.
(B) Not mine.
(C) Not mine.
(D) All of the above.
A/N: The following is dedicated to chibiukyou, who positively detests surprises and cliffhangers. ^_~ And who also kept me company on those nights when all I could do was write and rant. Luff ya much darling! *glomp!*
Hitori
By Katsumi
Chapter Five: Fermata in Mystic Air
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eiri didn't bother to look up from the second draft of the manuscript he was reading as the small voice called his name from the other side of the room. "Hn?"
He heard the soft sound of bare feet padding across the hard wood floor, and a weight dropped onto the couch beside him. Shuuichi leaned against Eiri's shoulder and whimpered, "I don't feel good."
"I know this already," replied Eiri as he marked out a few sentences in red pen, re-read the paragraph, then cut it out entirely. Shuuichi whimpered again and turned to nuzzle his face against Eiri's arm.
"Yuki..."
Eiri sighed, mildly irritated to have his concentration broken by someone who shouldn't even be conscious. "What are you doing out of bed, baka? You aren't going to get better if you stay awake." //And I'm not going to get any work done if you keep laying on me like that.//
Shuuichi sniffed. "I had a bad dream and woke up, but you weren't there. I wanted to be next to Yuki." He coughed, then buried his face against Eiri's shoulder. "I feel like I'm dying..."
"You aren't dying." //Redundant dialogue, strike. Period here, make this a new sentence...// "You have a cold, and if you don't stop rubbing on me I'll get sick as well and then we'll _both_ be miserable."
Shuuichi looked up at Eiri and pouted. "You're so mean. How do you know it's just a cold? What if I really _am_ dying, Yuki? I could be dying right now, but all you care about is..." He squinted at the papers in Eiri's hands, vision still blurry from just waking up and from the cold medicine that he had taken earlier. "Whatever that is. And then when I die and you have to go my funeral you'll say 'Oh why didn't I listen to him?'" Shuuichi made a dramatic gesture and threw himself into Eiri's lap, causing the novelist to cry out angrily as the boy landed on the manuscript.
"Baka, get off!" he yelled, trying to either pry the papers out from under his sick lover or shove him onto the floor. Shuuichi heaved a sigh and lifted himself enough to allow the manuscript to be saved.
"'Baka, get off', are those going to be your last words to me?" Shuuichi frowned. "That's not very romantic."
Eiri could only glare at Shuuichi, unsure if he should be amused or annoyed by the vocalist's behavior. "Little idiot," he said at last, setting the manuscript and pen onto the couch beside him.
Shuuichi winced. "My head hurts. I think I have a brain tumor."
Eiri rolled his eyes. "Do you even _have_ a central nervous system?"
"Yuki!" Shuuichi stuck out his lower lip. "I'm sick and you're still making fun of me!"
"Feh," was the author's response. Again, he tried to shift the boy off of him. "Move it, Drama Queen. I need to get my cigarettes."
"Maybe I have cancer!" Shuuichi rolled into Eiri, burying his face in the novelist's stomach and hugging him tightly around the waist. "Second-hand smoke!"
"Move, damn it!"
"No!" Shuuichi wailed, voice only slightly muffled. "I don't wanna die, Yuki!"
Eiri sighed again and gave up. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this. That manuscript needed to be redone before Saturday; it was already Thursday, and he had a hysterical pink brat clinging to him as if his life depended on it. The only way he would get _anything_ done would be to pander to the boy's craving for attention until the drugs knocked him out again and he would be able to continue his work in peace. Resting a hand on his lover's head, he repeated, "You _aren't_ dying."
Shuuichi turned his head to look up at Eiri, eyes wide and teary in an expression of pure, childlike fear. //My God, he doesn't really believe this, does he?// "How do you know?" he sniffled.
Eiri smirked down at him, running his fingers through the boy's hair, scritching lightly as if stroking a cat. "Trust me, baka."
Shuuichi's eyes drooped shut at the pleasurable ministrations as he relaxed into it. "Promise?" he mumbled.
"Go back to sleep."
"Hnn..." It was little more than a purr, and Eiri couldn't help but grin slightly. //Damn it, he won again...// Still stroking his lover's hair, Eiri looked forlornly at the manuscript sitting beside him, then shook his head. Oh well, what was another deadline to him anyway? He'd get it done when he got it done; that's what Express Mail was for. Besides, he'd missed deadlines by weeks at a time before. Making everyone wait only put him in more control and made his readers all the more ravenous by the time the novel in question was finally released. //Starve them of what they crave, and they'll always beg for more...//
"Yuki..."
Eiri looked down at his lover, who seemed to be mumbling in his sleep. "Hn?"
Shuuichi snuggled closer to the blonde, his words slurred and a bit muffled. "I need to ask you something..."
~*~
It had begun to snow.
The park was deserted. The moon spilled its silvery light graciously over the lone figure sitting on the park bench, a half-finished cigarette dangling between his fingers as he stared up at the gently descending flakes that caressed his face. Cold. But not cold enough. The trench coat Eiri wore was wrapped tightly around him, and briefly he considered taking it off, to revel in the numbing winter air, as if that in itself would validate his entire existence, which seemed to come down to that one moment in the empty park.
Alone. Just as he had been for the last three and a half weeks. Only... he had never felt quite as isolated, cut off from the rest of the world as he did right then. In his apartment, he had pieces of himself, fragments of his illusive lover. In his apartment, Touma would visit him and cook for him, try to talk to him and console him. //Though I haven't needed consoling until now.//
The thought was bittersweet and for a brief moment, he felt a flash of guilt. //I haven't needed consoling until Shu--… until he reminded me...//
An excuse, or a romantic notion further inspired by the delirium he felt settling over him, just as the snow settled across the ground. He couldn't tell which it was, and he didn't care to discern between them. //I'm going crazy... certainly that must count for more than a few tears.//
Justification eased whatever pain alcohol and nicotine and sex could not. It was a drug in its own right that no one had ever tried to take away from him. Finding reasons and excuses had become his forte. And if ever he couldn't come up with an answer, he would ignore the question entirely, deciding immediately that if there was no explanation, then it wasn't worth his time to worry about it. Something wasn't what it was simply because it _was_, but it wasn't up to him to find out why if he couldn't figure it out right away.
//That changed though, didn't it.// He took a long, deep drag from the cigarette and exhaled ghostly fingers of smoke into the night sky. //He changed all of that. He didn't have an explanation, and he wouldn't let you ignore his questions. It didn't mean a thing that you couldn't come up with the answer at a glance, did it?//
Though Eiri hated to admit it, the truth was that the boy had always perplexed him, and it frustrated the novelist to no end. How could someone act with such a selfless motive? How could he pursue Eiri so relentlessly, driven only by the need to have him near? Eiri had tried to brush him off with the conclusion that Shuuichi was lying, that the boy was much cleverer than he looked. Shuuichi had quickly proven otherwise, leaving Eiri with no excuse for his lover's actions other than the obvious: that Shuuichi truly meant what he was saying. And that confused the novelist even more than it had to start with.
However, there were nights when it left him with a sense of purpose, as if Shuuichi were a puzzle that had crawled into his lap, pleading to be deciphered as he nuzzled closer to the man that brought him such bittersweet heartache, such euphoric satisfaction. A puzzle in himself... or maybe a piece that completed another? A mystery within a mystery. Sometimes when Shuuichi was on the couch, nestled in Eiri's lap, head resting against Eiri's chest as he drifted off, the novelist couldn't help but lean back and absorb the boy into his senses, as if that could help solve all of the puzzles, end all of the games. The way his hair felt with his head tucked under Eiri's chin, the scent of his shampoo as delicate as the bones in the vocalists hands. Eiri would entwine his fingers with Shuuichi's, idly stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. Shuuichi had beautiful hands. Soft and gentle and small. Perfect.
Something slipped then, a single thread of control snapping like a bowstring, and Eiri closed his eyes, swallowing hard as his chest tightened almost painfully. Finishing his cigarette, he let it fall into the snow, listening to the hiss of the extinguished flame as he let out a shaky, smoky breath and tried to overcome the coppery taste of grief in the back of his throat.
Eiri leaned forward, threading his fingers through his hair, holding his head up as he rested his elbows on his knees. His head ached, and he held his breath. The air felt as though it had become thicker as unshed tears began to choke him, and he wished that it wasn't so quiet, wished desperately for something to distract him from this sudden pain that threatened to tear him apart.
It continued to snow in his dark, silent world.
He clenched his jaw and tried to breathe normally. A small sound escaped him, and he felt ashamed for it. //But no one's here. No one can see you now.//
//...no one can soothe this ache. No one can tell you it will be all right because it _won't_ be all right. You're losing your _fucking mind_ and there's nothing you can do about it.//
An image of Yuki Kitazawa grinning at him, whispering to him just like he had done all those years ago, flashed before Eiri's eyes, and the ache in his chest worsened. He wanted to scream, he wanted to yell and hit and _break_ something... he wanted to cry and get it over with. But more than anything, he wanted to sink into a warm embrace and leave everything behind.
All of this was held beyond his reach, and so he was left with a sharp longing in his tired soul.
//Never again... I'll never be able to hold him like that again... never hear him calling for me when he comes home from work and he knows perfectly well where I am... never be able to kiss him and hear him tell me how much he loves me...// The most maudlin of memories, but he couldn't fight them. He bit his lip hard, overwhelmed by the unexpected sentimentality. He could never have those moments again. All that he was left with now was the ghost of a haunted mind.
Shuuichi's screams from the nightmare earlier came back to him, and no matter how hard he bit his lip, it couldn't stop the few tears that ran down his face before falling to the snowy ground. He knew what those screams meant, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, no matter how many excuses he wanted to come up with, the truth was...
//I was there. I was there, and I...
I...//
"I let you die," he said softly, his voice strained. "Didn't I, Shuuichi... I let you die."
Silence. Not even an echo in response.
//What have I done to you? What have I seen?
Why couldn't I make the screaming stop...?//
"I'm sorry." Barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry..."
//For what I did to you, for what I didn't do to help you, for whatever it is that keeps you around me even in death.//
A soft breeze blew, sending a chill through him as he struggled to calm himself, his sensible side whispering that crying over it wouldn't solve anything, that getting emotional would only hinder him in figuring _anything_ out.
He wiped away the tears that had slipped, evening his breathing out until the ache in his chest gradually gave way. Eventually his headache subsided as well, and he was left feeling just as ragged as before, if not more so.
However, the anxiety that had settled in the pit of his stomach refused to go away quite so easily, and thus sitting up just yet was not an option to be considered. Somewhere in that tiny moment when it had been too much to bear, the loneliness had given way to a peculiar fear that he found he couldn't quite explain. Suddenly he didn't want to be alone, not there, out in the silvery park where the air was too heavy and crisp and _muted_. It wasn't a question of companionship, it was a sense of...
What? What was it?
//Danger. I don't feel safe here anymore...// He rubbed tiredly at his eyes, suppressing a shiver borne from the chilly flakes settling on the back of his neck. The exhaustion he had felt earlier was chased away by the bitter winter night, leaving him feeling more worn out than tired, a kind of restless fatigue that was growing incredibly uncomfortable with the added anxiety. Wearily, he dropped his sight to the ground once more… and that's when he saw it.
The tiny splash of color in the purity at his feet didn't quite register with him at first. A spot in his vision perhaps, a momentary hallucination (and why not? It had been happening enough lately), but certainly not what he thought it was.
Squinting a bit, Eiri peered down at the spot of red poking through the carpet of snow. It... it almost looked like...
Curious, he reached down to brush away the snow that partially covered the little anomaly, and velvet petals kissed his fingertips. He jerked slightly, drawing his hand back as if the flower might bite him. He regarded it carefully, still in disbelief.
//A wild rose... in the middle of winter...//
No. Way.
He blinked and reached towards it once more, awed that such a thing could be in full bloom despite the season. As soon as he touched the blossom though, he tensed, the same familiar fear that he experienced in front of the bedroom door washing through him. He smirked bitterly to himself.
//I live in fear.//
He closed his eyes, wrapping his fingers around the stem, dipping into the cold snow.
//Starting now...//
Taking a deep breath, he forced back the urge to pull away, and tugged at the rose.
//I'm going to put an end to this.//
The stem broke with a muffled snap--
And he cried out, dropping the severed flower with a curse as a thorn dug into his finger. The bitter taste of blood assaulted his senses as he brought the injured digit to his lips, and he glared at the rose lying blamelessly in the snow. Forget it. He wasn't staying there any longer. Fight-or-flight instinct taking over, Eiri stood from the bench, not even bothering to spare a last glance at the rose before he stalked back to his car.
//Fuck this.// he thought angrily. Ghosts and roses and song lyrics that weren't his. //Just _fuck this_.//
Another breeze swept past, stirring the tops of the trees as he walked beneath them, and he shivered. Whispers. They sounded almost like-
//Stop it. This is getting old. Knock it off already.//
But no matter what he told himself, the tension within him would not ease. He was nervous, the kind of anxiety one feels when they're walking alone at night, and the hushed voices of the leaves…
He paused, and looked up at the bare branches of the trees.
Eiri shook his head, taking a deep breath and continuing down the jogging path to where he'd parked. This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. //You aren't eight years old anymore, for chrissake. Get a hold on yourself.// He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking, trying to push away the paranoid feeling that he was being watched. The familiar weight of the cell phone in his right pocket brought him a little comfort. Despite the fact that he rarely answered the phone at home, he kept his cell with him wherever he went for emergencies. The only people who had his cell number were Touma, Mika, Tatsuha, and a select handful of others, so if it ever rang, he already knew who it was.
Now it brought him a sense of security, however small. After a moment of toying with the idea, Eiri withdrew the phone from his pocket and flipped it open as he walked, dialing a number and waiting for the person on the other end to answer.
One ring. Two rings. Three rings //I know you're there// and he quickened his pace a little until--
"Hello?"
//Thank God...// "Why are you answering my phone?" It came out as annoyed, exasperated, just how he hoped it would.
He could almost hear the small smile that was undoubtedly on Touma's lips. "I knew you would be calling, Eiri-san."
"Waiting for me?"
"I might as well. You've been alone for so long."
"Maybe I like it that way."
"Oh? Then why are you calling?"
Eiri frowned. //Touché.//
"Where are you?"
"You already know."
"When will you be home?"
"When I feel like it." Eiri inspected his hand as he walked. The bleeding had stopped. "When are you leaving?"
"As soon as I know you're safe."
"I'm not a child."
"I know."
Pause.
"Eiri."
"Hn?"
"Tell me... what happened tonight?"
He knew this had been coming, but dodged the question anyway. "Claustrophobic. I couldn't stand it in there anymore."
"That's funny. You looked like you had seen a ghost."
Eiri hesitated slightly at the strange note in Touma's voice, but dismissed it. "Was just a nightmare."
"I hope there wasn't something wrong with the food..."
"Nerves."
"I see."
Another pause. Eiri had never felt so pressed for conversation in his life. There really wasn't anything he wanted to say to the older man, but he couldn't handle this isolation. He needed a living voice to be with him, at least until he was in his car...
"Eiri-san, do you remember what happened once we returned home from New York?"
//What... ?//
"You locked yourself in your room for nearly a month," Touma continued, "and refused to come out or talk to anyone."
Eiri frowned. Of course he remembered. How could he forget? "What about it?"
"Don't," said Touma sharply. "Don't do it again."
"I'm not."
"You are."
He came to a stop in the middle of the path, the snow continuing its graceful descent all around him. "Seguchi," he started, but found that he had nothing to say.
"Eiri-san."
He closed his eyes, the other man's tone reminding him that he couldn't hide much from Touma. "I can't help it," Eiri said softly.
"Why not?" Touma's voice was an inquiring purr.
//You aren't my fucking therapist...// "Because there's nothing you can say or do to help me." His words were harsher than he had meant them to be, his tone bitter and angry, yet dangerously quiet. His frustration was getting the better of him, but he did nothing to stop it as he continued, "Just like after New York."
The full effect of his words came back to him through the whispering silence of the cell phone at his ear. Up ahead, he could see his car parked under a flickering streetlamp in the empty lot.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Eiri-san," said Touma at last, tone bearing none of the ice Eiri had been expecting to hear, and the novelist shook his head.
"It was a lost cause," Eiri amended.
"How can you say that?"
"Because it's true."
"Self-pity won't solve anything."
"Obviously."
He dug into his other coat pocket, searching for his keys.
"It's snowing," Touma remarked.
"Hn."
"Please be careful, Eiri-san. The roads must be slick by now."
Eiri smirked. "I've driven in worse conditions, and it hasn't killed me yet."
"Is it nice out there?"
"It's disturbing."
"Oh? I'd imagine it would be quite lovely at night."
"It's too quiet."
"Is the moon full?"
"No."
"That's too bad."
"If you say... so..."
He trailed off, coming to a stop mere feet from the car. His eyes fixed on the scene before him and a chill overcame him unlike anything he'd ever experienced. //No... no way...//
"Eiri-san?"
"Se... Seguchi..." He couldn't breathe; there was a tremendous pressure against his chest that he couldn't explain, couldn't expel.
"Are you all right?"
He choked, unable to form words, and he closed his eyes, dizzy, disoriented, an image burning in his mind, softly settling in reality before him. He felt his knees buckle and barely had time to catch himself before he hit the ground, gasping for air.
"He-... help..."
The phone fell from his grasp, a voice calling to him from somewhere far away, and darkness swallowed him whole.
~*~
A shriek, inhuman, unearthly, jarring him to his very bones. Starbursts of color, white black red pain--
"YUKI!"
Mind-numbing terror, red, so much red //Oh God... oh Jesus _Christ_// and it was everywhere.
Roses, wild roses, blossoming so fast, so close, petals warm and inviting and //so goddamned beautiful...// wilting as they spread.
A sob. Choked. Pleading.
"Trust me."
"Yuki..."
CRUNCH. Sickening. Nausea.
White.
Cold.
...silence...
~*~
"Eiri-san? Eiri... are you still there? Is everything all right?... Eiri! Answer me!"
The tiny voice lay forgotten in the snow, as gentle flakes caressed the crumpled, motionless form of Yuki Eiri.