A/N: Well, yet another short chapter for you, though not AS short. *sigh*
Thanks to all who reviewed. I love reviews. I LIVE on reviews. *turns into
an orange-haired version of a Shuichi-chibi, munching on a vat o' reviews*
Oh, and, congratulations to jmccall93, you guessed the song and get a .
*KUMAGORO BEEEEEAAAAAMMMMM*
Yuki was reasonably sure he couldn't have been out more than a few seconds. The blood on his temple was still warm and hadn't had time to flow any farther. That, and what he was sure was a broken arm, seemed to be all that was wrong with him.
"Yu- Yuk.i?"
His brain suddenly caught up with him. "Shuichi? Shu-chan, are you alright?" It was too dark and rainy to see much, but he couldn't help noticing far more blood that could have come from his arm and forehead spattered around. Blindly, his fingers found the source amid the soft, pink locks he'd never admit he loved so much.
Perhaps he'd just imagined the voice. It wouldn't strike him as odd that Shuichi would cry out for him with his last strength, little as he deserved it. But there was too much blood; Shuichi's frail little body was too still.
Dizzy himself from blood loss he barely noticed, Yuki could only cling to Shuichi, even as he heard the approach of sirens and half-noticed the crowd of gawkers collected around the car. Some part of him knew he was being irrational, a part that had been weakening gradually since that night Shuichi had scrambled clumsily into his life. He whispered frantic pleas to Shuichi, to the darkness, to the gods he'd fled since childhood betrayal.
The door on his side was wrenched open, revealing a cop and a paramedic. Rational Yuki forced his way to the surface again, leaving his cringing, childish half-self still holding what was left of Shuichi in spirit. "I think I'm alright. He's not."
Yuki allowed himself to be eased out of the car and handed over to two more paramedics, one of whom was female and recognized him. He divided his consciousness between deterring her attentions and restraining himself from running back to Shuichi, now being loaded onto a stretcher and too, too still.
Dumbly, on the way to the hospital, he sat in shock as the doctors splinted his arm and cleaned the cut on his forehead. Shuichi obviously occupied his thoughts, but they wouldn't settle. As a writer, he always worked in words, but they failed him. Random images spun through his mind. Shuichi singing in front of a thousand assembled fans but just for Yuki. Shuichi in tears over some small insensitivity, anguish dispelled by the slightest show of affection. Shuichi shouting his love from stage, more than once, Shuichi dragging his dour boyfriend through the park, Shuichi in pain, both physical and mental, out of love for Yuki.
Already, Yuki's sadistic subconscious had twisted the accident until it was avoidable and entirely his fault. After they'd reached the hospital and his arm had been cast properly, he conceded to his fan and nurse, who suggested he spend the night in case of something she was very vague about. Pain and blood loss threw him immediately into a tormented sleep.
~~~
Yuki woke to the bustle of a general ward in the morning, something he'd never witnessed from his private room. Suffering from morning amnesia, he found it sort of educational and even amusing while the events of the previous night caught up with him. Knowing how hard it was to get answers out of anyone in the medical profession, he waited for the nurse from before.
He managed to flag her down relatively quickly, and fortunately she wasn't doing anything urgent. "Hi, what's your name?"
She giggled and blushed. ".Ritsuko."
Since stardom had descended on his unwilling blond head, Yuki had learned to keep a few of whatever was most recently his selling point on his person. A copy of his latest, A Girl in Tokyo (the uninspired title of which still annoyed him*), still rested in his pocket, and he was seldom without a pen. Making a professional show of it, he signed the book to Ritsuko in his best, most unnecessarily flowery handwriting.
While she blushed and giggled some more over the gift, Yuki assessed the situation. She was probably too old to take much interest in even the most popular boybands, so wouldn't have necessarily recognized Shuichi, unless from a commercial. "The man who was in the car with me, what's his condition?" Yuki didn't dare to ask if he was alright.
Ritsuko looked apologetic. "He's in a coma, Yuki-san. A deep one. He's not on my floor, but my friend Sumi's seen him. If you feel well enough to get up, I could hand you over to her." Yuki had a feeling she'd promised this friend to get her a glimpse of "Yuki-san."
He suavely managed to survive both the nurses over the course of about fifteen minutes, finally getting Sumi to show him to Shuichi. Yuki was surprised, and a little annoyed, to find Hiro, Suguru, K, and Ryuichi already clustered around the bed. He managed a small, sad smile for the latter at the sight of Kumagoro propped against Shuichi's shoulder. From even a slight acquaintance, Yuki recognized the ultimate sacrifice from the half-insane singer.
Yuki didn't speak, elbowing a place between the standing members of Bad Luck with his good arm. He was sure he felt accusing stares from the others. It couldn't be unknown that he was driving the car.
A long, pregnant silence was broken by Ryuichi. "Kuma-chan says Shu-kun'll be fine."
While K, Hiro, and Suguru muttered grudging, frustrated replies, Yuki turned his gaze to the pink bunny he suddenly had to put his faith in, then to Shuichi's bandaged face. He couldn't help feeling he was about to loose the one thing that had mattered to him in his adult life.
* Translation: The author of this fanfic was feeling so incredibly uninspired she managed to P.O. her (stolen) characters.
Yuki was reasonably sure he couldn't have been out more than a few seconds. The blood on his temple was still warm and hadn't had time to flow any farther. That, and what he was sure was a broken arm, seemed to be all that was wrong with him.
"Yu- Yuk.i?"
His brain suddenly caught up with him. "Shuichi? Shu-chan, are you alright?" It was too dark and rainy to see much, but he couldn't help noticing far more blood that could have come from his arm and forehead spattered around. Blindly, his fingers found the source amid the soft, pink locks he'd never admit he loved so much.
Perhaps he'd just imagined the voice. It wouldn't strike him as odd that Shuichi would cry out for him with his last strength, little as he deserved it. But there was too much blood; Shuichi's frail little body was too still.
Dizzy himself from blood loss he barely noticed, Yuki could only cling to Shuichi, even as he heard the approach of sirens and half-noticed the crowd of gawkers collected around the car. Some part of him knew he was being irrational, a part that had been weakening gradually since that night Shuichi had scrambled clumsily into his life. He whispered frantic pleas to Shuichi, to the darkness, to the gods he'd fled since childhood betrayal.
The door on his side was wrenched open, revealing a cop and a paramedic. Rational Yuki forced his way to the surface again, leaving his cringing, childish half-self still holding what was left of Shuichi in spirit. "I think I'm alright. He's not."
Yuki allowed himself to be eased out of the car and handed over to two more paramedics, one of whom was female and recognized him. He divided his consciousness between deterring her attentions and restraining himself from running back to Shuichi, now being loaded onto a stretcher and too, too still.
Dumbly, on the way to the hospital, he sat in shock as the doctors splinted his arm and cleaned the cut on his forehead. Shuichi obviously occupied his thoughts, but they wouldn't settle. As a writer, he always worked in words, but they failed him. Random images spun through his mind. Shuichi singing in front of a thousand assembled fans but just for Yuki. Shuichi in tears over some small insensitivity, anguish dispelled by the slightest show of affection. Shuichi shouting his love from stage, more than once, Shuichi dragging his dour boyfriend through the park, Shuichi in pain, both physical and mental, out of love for Yuki.
Already, Yuki's sadistic subconscious had twisted the accident until it was avoidable and entirely his fault. After they'd reached the hospital and his arm had been cast properly, he conceded to his fan and nurse, who suggested he spend the night in case of something she was very vague about. Pain and blood loss threw him immediately into a tormented sleep.
~~~
Yuki woke to the bustle of a general ward in the morning, something he'd never witnessed from his private room. Suffering from morning amnesia, he found it sort of educational and even amusing while the events of the previous night caught up with him. Knowing how hard it was to get answers out of anyone in the medical profession, he waited for the nurse from before.
He managed to flag her down relatively quickly, and fortunately she wasn't doing anything urgent. "Hi, what's your name?"
She giggled and blushed. ".Ritsuko."
Since stardom had descended on his unwilling blond head, Yuki had learned to keep a few of whatever was most recently his selling point on his person. A copy of his latest, A Girl in Tokyo (the uninspired title of which still annoyed him*), still rested in his pocket, and he was seldom without a pen. Making a professional show of it, he signed the book to Ritsuko in his best, most unnecessarily flowery handwriting.
While she blushed and giggled some more over the gift, Yuki assessed the situation. She was probably too old to take much interest in even the most popular boybands, so wouldn't have necessarily recognized Shuichi, unless from a commercial. "The man who was in the car with me, what's his condition?" Yuki didn't dare to ask if he was alright.
Ritsuko looked apologetic. "He's in a coma, Yuki-san. A deep one. He's not on my floor, but my friend Sumi's seen him. If you feel well enough to get up, I could hand you over to her." Yuki had a feeling she'd promised this friend to get her a glimpse of "Yuki-san."
He suavely managed to survive both the nurses over the course of about fifteen minutes, finally getting Sumi to show him to Shuichi. Yuki was surprised, and a little annoyed, to find Hiro, Suguru, K, and Ryuichi already clustered around the bed. He managed a small, sad smile for the latter at the sight of Kumagoro propped against Shuichi's shoulder. From even a slight acquaintance, Yuki recognized the ultimate sacrifice from the half-insane singer.
Yuki didn't speak, elbowing a place between the standing members of Bad Luck with his good arm. He was sure he felt accusing stares from the others. It couldn't be unknown that he was driving the car.
A long, pregnant silence was broken by Ryuichi. "Kuma-chan says Shu-kun'll be fine."
While K, Hiro, and Suguru muttered grudging, frustrated replies, Yuki turned his gaze to the pink bunny he suddenly had to put his faith in, then to Shuichi's bandaged face. He couldn't help feeling he was about to loose the one thing that had mattered to him in his adult life.
* Translation: The author of this fanfic was feeling so incredibly uninspired she managed to P.O. her (stolen) characters.
