Chapter 3

Seguchi Tohma folded his arms across his chest irritably as the line of passengers filed past him, glaring at each one from behind his sunglasses that he had taken to wearing in order to hide from the prying eyes of the public.  Each passenger looked equally tired from the hours just spent on the airplane as they trudged by, only glancing at him to confirm that they did not know him.

After having spent five hours waiting at the airport for a late arriving plane, supposedly on which was his favorite little brother-in-law, Tohma's patience was beginning to wear a little thin.  Although Mika had assured him that Eiri was coming, last time Tohma had spoken to him, Eiri had sounded as though he had no intention of coming, even though he assured both of them that he would.  Tohma knew why Eiri didn't want to return; it all boiled down to Shindou.  Although Eiri would never admit it, Tohma knew that he was secretly afraid of the prospect of having to face the boy again.

And for that reason, Tohma once again concluded to himself that it was a waste of his time to be waiting here for a man that was most likely never to show.

"Flight 119 is now arriving in Gate 5," came the echoing, yet strangely muffled female voice over the intercom, causing Tohma to unconsciously look up at the gate sign protruding from the wall on the far corner of the terminal.  Gate 3.  He couldn't quite remember how he had come to be standing in front of this gate, which he realized just happened to be the correct one, and the plane that was docked there, regurgitating its passengers, was the one the Eiri supposedly had flown in on.

Of course, so far Eiri had yet to appear.  The passengers flocking out of the gate were becoming more and more sparse, and Tohma was feeling the temptation to just turn and leave right then.  He wasn't sure if he actually would have left, had Eiri not rounded the corner just as the thought crossed his mind.  Tohma quickly blanketed the tired daze he had acquired from the previously idle five hours with a smile and stepped out from the crowd to be sure that Eiri wouldn't miss him.  Eiri's golden eyes settled on him, but he did not break stride.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered, irritation corrupting his voice.  "I need a cigarette."

Tohma quickly fell in stride behind him, his smile faltering only the slightest bit.  "It's nice to see you again, Eiri-san," he called ahead of him politely.  "It's been over a year now, hasn't it?"

Eiri grunted.  "That's the only reason I came back, you realize.  For Mika."

Tohma jogged a few steps forward so that he was at Eiri's side.  "You really love America that much, then?" Tohma took a slight, necessary pause and smirked.  "Or is it that you hate Japan that much?"

"Don't force yourself, Seguchi," Eiri uttered, reaching into his pocket as the two neared the exit for his cigarettes.  Flying around the world had deprived him of precious available smoking time, and Tohma realized that he himself was probably not helping the nicotine craving, though he wasn't about to let that stop him. 

"Of course, I was the one who asked you to come back, not Mika."

Eiri's swift pace broke, and he glared at Tohma with fierce golden eyes.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he stated in what was obviously a lie, though Tohma dared not comment.

"What I'm saying is," Tohma sang, striding forward with an artificial grace, his long white index finger angled, with a slight curve, towards his own head, "I thought it would be best for both of you if you returned."

"Both of us?" Eiri repeated, failing to hide his confusion as he glared at Tohma with narrow eyes.  Tohma perceived this, and a victorious smile crossed his face.

"You are of my primary concern, of course," Tohma continued, pretending as though he hadn't noticed Eiri's question.  "I would have ignored him, if I hadn't seen that you too were suffering.  I find it odd though, that someone like him would be better at hiding it than you."

"Are you talking about--" Eiri started, though he cut himself short when Tohma's icy eyes flashed at him with all of the previous humor drained from them.

"Shindou's really sick, Eiri-san," Tohma said, "and it's because of you.  I want you to come to his concert."

Eiri remained silent for a moment, staring at Tohma incredulously, before he regained a hold of himself and began angrily marching away, his footsteps seeming to echo even in the crowded airport.  "No, I told you I wasn't going to see him," he hissed as he passed Tohma.

Tohma quickly followed him, having to jog to keep up with Eiri's new quickened pace.  "You don't have to talk to him, or even make your presence known.  Just watch him, and you'll understand why I want this."

Eiri halted suddenly, causing Tohma to nearly collide with his back.  A few moments of silence passed between the two before Eiri finally let out a sigh and glared at Tohma.

"If he sees me--"

"He won't see you," Tohma interrupted quickly, "unless you decide you want him to."

Another silence fell upon them, though this one was much shorter than the last.

"Fine," Eiri muttered, immediately turning and once again hurrying towards the exit, fingering the package of cigarettes in his pocket once again.

He couldn't have known that Tohma's last words were a warning.

========

Not only was the concert hall packed with rabid fan girls, each as horribly and piercingly high-pitched as the next, but it was also dark, so dark that Eiri felt the urge to remove his sunglasses, though he dared not to; he had learned over the last few years that he and Shuichi shared the majority of their fans.  Even though this was a concert and not a bookstore, Eiri knew he still ran the risk of being recognized, and if he were to be recognized, Shuichi would know that he was here.  He wasn't sure what he would do in that situation, so he let his sunglasses remain over his eyes, making him feel blind and vulnerable.

Not only that, but Eiri was beginning to wonder when exactly the concert was going to start.  The fan girls' voices and screams were like nails on a chalkboard, and each time he heard one, an uncomfortable chill would run down his spine and make him shudder violently, no matter how much he tensed his body to make it stop.  The concert was already running twenty minutes past its posted starting time, and the hordes of fan girls were getting restless.

Eiri was leaning against the back wall of the hall, the location naturally being as far away from the stage as possible.  He had chosen this spot, he knew secretly, not to hide from Shuichi's vision, but rather the opposite; ever since Shuichi's first concert, he had stood in the same area, and Shuichi had always managed to pick him out, despite the glaring lights and thousands of faces of the crowd.  He had a hidden desire that Shuichi would see him, recognize him, and show some sign of affection, something that told Eiri that he had missed him in his year of absence, and that he was still wanted.  It was a selfish wish, Eiri knew.  He had left specifically so that Shuichi wouldn't feel like that anymore, that Shuichi wouldn't have to have a heartache over him everyday just because of his callous personality which he could not seem to get rid of. 

Eiri didn't know which would make him feel worse; if Shuichi did show a sign of recognition and desire, Eiri would know that his entire absence had been a waste, that Shuichi hadn't gotten over him yet, and that he had ruined Shuichi's life for good.  On the other hand, Eiri knew he would be hurt if Shuichi had forgotten about him.  It was a double-edged sword, and each side hurt as much as the other.

At last, the lights dimmed, and Eiri was able to remove his sunglasses.  He watched the stage intently as the show began with the pink-haired singer marching up onto it, a smile plastered across his face and his movements and actions as big and noticeable as ever.  He reached the microphone and snatched it enthusiastically, holding it to his mouth as he called out his greeting.

"La li ho!" he cried, his voice reverberating out over the hall and filling all of the open spaces with its satiny quality.  Eiri's heart clenched when he heard the words; other than the import CDs he had ordered in America, he had not heard his lover's voice at all.  With such a voice pushing its way into his ears, Eiri felt the weight of reality crash upon him; although he had desperately shoved it to the back of his mind until he was able to convince himself that it was not true, he missed Shuichi greatly.  Everything about him, whether it be a good quality or not, Eiri missed and wanted more than anything else.  And now, he was so close, in the very same building, as the one thing he wanted most in the world.

But the fear of Shuichi's reaction restrained him from moving.

There was a brief silence while the other two band members filed onto the stage behind him, though Eiri kept his eyes locked on the singer, watching as if he would die if he blinked.  And watching like that, despite the distance between them, he saw it:  Shuichi's eyes, as always, scanned the audience, searching to see if someone had shown up after all.  And for a second, Eiri knew that Shuichi had seen him, and was staring at him, but it was over all too quickly.  There was no reaction; the singer went on, as always, holding up the microphone and energetically announcing their first song, and causing Eiri's heart to twist so hard, he swore he could have just collapsed.  A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he leaned fully against the wall, allowing it to support him entirely and keep him from fainting.

Eiri didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them when the music started, and all the pain he had been feeling just a minute ago vanished.  He lifted his eyes to the stage, where Shuichi was dancing and singing, ignoring his surroundings and seeming as though he would keep on singing forever, no matter what happened.  There was something subtle in his movements, something that Eiri couldn't quite pinpoint but knew was there nonetheless, that was screaming out to him.  Eiri looked around at the faces of the girls around him, though each of them stared at the stage, captivated by the music and Shuichi's own physical beauty, and nothing else.  They didn't see it, whatever it was.  Eiri stared at the singer, trying to decide what it was that was so strange about him.  It was something Shuichi was trying to hide, but it was still there.  What was it?

"Shindou's really sick, Eiri-san."

Tohma's words came rushing back at him with a hidden force that he hadn't realized they possessed when they were first spoken.  Anxiety crept up his spine as he stared at the stage, at Shuichi who was still moving strangely, and he now knew why Tohma had dragged him to the concert.  Shuichi wasn't sick, not physically at least.  But there was definitely something wrong.

Swallowing his fear, his pride, and all other emotions that were fighting to overcome him at that moment, he slowly began to push his way forward through the crowd, ignoring the displeased grunts from the girls, and he made his way closer and closer to the stage, to the place where his Shuichi was singing and dancing and suffering like he never had before.

Eiri knew that he was the one who was causing this, and it was his duty to fix it.  He just hoped that it wasn't too late.

========

Shuichi looked into the mirror at his own expressionless face, staring into his own staring eyes.  The hairdresser yanked his head to the side, but Shuichi didn't bother to cry out and scream like he used to.  The concert was already starting late, and he didn't need to delay it anymore.

It was strange how these little things that used to bother him so much before now hardly mattered to him at all.  It was just another concert, and he would do his job without complaining, like always.  Yuki was gone, and now music was the only thing that meant anything to him now.  He would continue to sing so that he could continue to sing, and that was all there was to it.

"There!  Perfect!" his hairdresser cried, lifting his utensils up into the air excitedly.  Shuichi looked at the reflection of his hair, noticing that it looked to same as always to him, though he didn't bother to comment.

"Thank you," he muttered and stood, pulling away the cloth that had protected his performance costume.  He began to make his way towards the door, but before he could open it, it swung open and in marched Hiro, a scowl on his face.

"You almost ready?" he cried.  "The concert's already past its starting time!"

Shuichi nodded silently and trudged past his friend, vaguely taking note of the way Hiro's scowl fell immediately to a guilty frown.  Hiro had been acting like that for a while now, and Shuichi didn't feign ignorance as to why.  Shuichi knew that he had treated Hiro like a one-night stand, returning the next day and everyday after that pretending as though nothing had ever happened.  It had left Hiro confused and helpless, but Shuichi didn't care, nor did he want to have to deal with having to comfort Hiro.  It was no one's fault, after all, and Shuichi didn't understand why Hiro couldn't accept that.

Before he knew it, Shuichi was onstage, the lights nearly blinding him, as he called out his usual greeting, the words flowing from his mouth without him even thinking about it; if he had thought about it, he knew he wouldn't have been able to say it because it was definitely not how he felt.  It was a practiced speech put into so much use that it spilled from his mouth with liquid ease; he'd be able to recite it in his sleep, if the dream permitted such a circumstance.  Everything was the same as always; the concerts were falling into routine along with everything else.  The faces of the crowd slowly began to become more visible, glowing orange among the darkness.  In the pause while his band members entered the stage, he found himself once again scanning the crowd, not because he was actually looking for him, but just because it was an old habit that he doubted he would ever break.  And it was because of this habit that he saw him; the golden hair and eyes staring at him, watching him with an impatient glare.

But it wasn't him.  Shuichi knew it couldn't be him.  He had searched for Yuki and waited for Yuki to make an appearance at his concerts, to show up and say that he was sorry for leaving, that he would never leave again.  For over a year he had waited for that moment, and it had never happened.  Yuki had never come back, and Shuichi accepted that he never would.  Yuki had disappeared from not only Shuichi's life, but from the face of the Earth.  Yuki was dead.  This person, coolly leaning against the back wall and staring at him, the person wasn't Yuki.  He was just a guy that looked like him, or even a hallucination.  But it definitely wasn't him…

He continued on with the concert as always.  There was nothing else he could do.  He announced the song, and sang as always, allowing his lyrics to roll off his tongue in the correct notes.  The performance was perfect; not a single mistake issued from his body.  He didn't make mistakes anymore; it was beyond him to do so.  He just sang what he was supposed to sing, and he wasn't able to do anything else.  Naturally, no mistakes followed.  Yuki's disappearance was the best thing for him.  He had survived through it, and now he could sing like he used to before Yuki entered his life.  His dream of being a singer was tainted by the stoic novelist, but now the dream had come back and come true at the same time, and he could sing.

The revelation engulfed him with heat as he sang to his voice's limits.  He could see the all of the audiences eyes widen, but he didn't pay mind.  His heart was racing and his breath issue from his throat, carrying with them the silky tunes that moved his entire body naturally in their trail.  He was touching his dream, he realized for the first time; he was holding it in his hands, and he had the power to keep it.

He could do this.

There had been two things he had been passionate about, that being Yuki and music.  Now one was gone, and he was free to devote his entire attention to the other, to the one that wouldn't desert him.  And suddenly Yuki's disappearance was a trivial thing needed to open the way to his real future.  Yuki had known that, and that was why he had left.  The whole time, Yuki had been thinking about him.

Shuichi closed his eyes and widen his mouth, letting a note fill the gaps of air around the hall.  Tears pricked at his eyes, but he forced his lips into a smile as he sang to keep them from falling.

He had once told Yuki that change was a good thing, that it brought about new and better things, like when winter changes to spring.  Yuki had glared at him and told him to go to hell, but he had been listening after all.  And now Shuichi couldn't take his own advice.

He was on a different song now.  He couldn't remember when that had happened, but he was singing along with the music, and the lyrics were working together.  He pushed the microphone closer to his mouth and ran a hand through his slick, pink strands of hair, causing a few wisps to fall into his eyes and blur his vision.  Or maybe it was the tears that were still threatening to fall that were blurring it.

He loved Yuki.  He loved the feel of Yuki's skin pressed against his own and the dry, dead smell that clung to Yuki and the taste of cigarettes in Yuki's mouth.  He loved the insults shouted angrily at him, or the soft voice that whispered affectionately to him in the night when it thought he was asleep.  And he loved those eyes that were always glaring and covered with hate on the surface, those eyes that were trying to break him but at the same time were keeping him together.  He couldn't deny it anymore, and he couldn't hope to get better.  Yuki would always be there, in his mind, whether he wanted him to be or not.

And he could keep on moving forward.  He could do this.  He knew he could.

The concert was over, and he moved to the side of the stage, Fujisaki and Hiro in front of him, looking straight ahead and holding out his hand.  He ran along the front edge, following his band members and allowing the audience to touch his hand, a certain treat that he was told to give to them tonight.  He could feel every one of the hands touching him back, trying to grab him and hold onto him, but he always managed to break free.  He was almost halfway down the stage when a strong, rough grip encircled his wrist and pulled him back, breaking his stride.  He could feel something like desperation hidden within the grip, as if the owner of the hand urgently needed his help.  Curiously, he gazed down into the crowd of darkened faces, and immediately picked out the one he was searching for; it seemed to glow white among the others, accented by glistening yellow strands that brightly reflected the stage lights.

"Yu…" Shuichi whispered, though he was unable to finish the word.  His eyes caught the gaze that he had been thinking about only moments before, and suddenly the sounds of the hall and the screams of the audience muted, and all he could hear was the rapping of his heart in his chest.  His body went cold and numb, and all he could feel was the tight hand around his wrist.

He was a mirror, and Yuki was standing before him, but he wasn't glaring like Shuichi had thought; his eyes were full of concern and apology and sorrow.  Yuki had finally seen the crack, and had stopped glaring.  And Shuichi suddenly realized just how much he had depended on Yuki's glare to hold him upright.  He could hear the world shattering around him, and his own body crashing to the ground as the crack widened and cursed through him like blood, but he could only stare at the person who had caused everything, who had caused him to crack and then to shatter.  He stared at Yuki until his vision shattered as well and turned into nothingness, and he could feel himself falling forward, into the void that had once been the world before it shattered.  He felt like he was going to fall forever through the vacuum, but rather two arms enveloped him, dragging him to an abrupt halt, and held onto him tightly until they too shattered, throwing him completely into the darkness.

========

Notes:  Thank you everyone who read this story!

Until next time,

Cassi