Chapter 9: Circles In A Circle

Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.

OWIE OWIE.

I'm never doing drugs again.

Wait, I didn't do them on purpose in the first place. I hate you, Yuki Eiri. I hate you and your little noxious cigarettes, too. I hope someone drops a house on you.

Yeah, I feel kinda like the Wicked Witch of the West looks.

Green and infinitely gross.

The way I feel rather reminds me of the day after I snorted three lines of crushed Lorcet and followed them with three bumps of Ketamine. But, I don't do that anymore. Not for a long time. Not since Tomi told me that it was bad for me. The only thing that should go up your nose is air, he said, or else your brain wigs out and starts eating itself. He didn't say anything about pills, though. I kinda wish he would have warned me about those, too.

There were so many pretty pills, just like M&Ms, in pastels and rainbows. Baby blue is for Valium, and there's simple white of Vicodin. Pink Darvocet, as pink as Kumagoro, pinker even. Ecstasy comes in any color you want. You can have it to match your outfit, to match your eyes. Just like Dorothy, yes, a free ticket to the shining Emerald City of your choice. Percocet, and Zydone, Staydol and Dilaudid. Anything to numb the pain. Opiates. Poppies. Red poppies to forget and red poppies to sleep. Red poppies spilling slick onto the floor, gushing out of me like an orgasm of my own blood.

Which is, really, where I'd like to be right about now. Instead of this aching, grinding, horrible pain consuming my body like a vindictive plague.

Alright, I might be exaggerating just a -bit-. But. It. Hurts!

Sometime this morning, after spending about an hour clutching my nice American toilet, I crawled back into my room, and kicked Shuichi -out- of my bed. That's how bad I feel. I don't even want Shuichi here. I don't want anything touching me. Even my zillion thread count Portuguese sheets hurt me.

Besides, I don't really want Shuichi in here while I moan and cry. He'll feel bad for me, and that will make me feel worse for making him worry. I think he understands, though.

Yes, Yuki-san, I get the point. I get the point. No more drugs. Were you trying to teach me a lesson? Well, it was a fucking pointless lesson, because I was doing pretty good avoiding drugs and alcohol on my own. Well, okay, I did have some champagne this week, but that's not even really alcohol. It doesn't count.

Kumagoro, how did I get myself into this situation?

Nevermind, I really don't want to hear your opinions today.

Ugh, my head hurts. This is the problem with most drugs. They make the world very nice, but then you have to take more of them or else you feel crappy afterwards. Feeling crappy sucks. It just sucks.

I flop over in my bed, trying to combat tears. I wish I could go back to sleep. Sleeping it off sounds like a good idea. I must be getting old, for it to get to me this badly. I'm just going to have to eventually admit that I'm not eighteen anymore.

No. No.

I don't want to be 'old people' Ryuichi. You admit you're getting older, and it just goes downhill from there.

I mean, it is true that Shuichi is more than ten years younger than me, but what does that matter? I'm still in good shape, aren't I? I don't have lots of wrinkles, and people tell me I am sexy all the time. But, maybe they aren't really looking at me. Maybe they are thinking of the Ryuichi of five or ten years ago, and just projecting his image onto what remains of that person.

I'm all washed up. I'm just a has-been. I don't even have a band anymore. No band. No prospective future career. No Tomi. I fucked up my chance to get Shuichi back together with Yuki. I practically told my best friend to go to hell. Kumagoro is mad at me for acting like an idiot all the time. I'm obscenely hung over, and to top it all off, I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE.

I mean, seriously, even people with no legs can learn to drive.

I just suck.

Hey, this pillow smells like Shuichi's hair. Mmmmm, that's nice. Even Kumagoro kinda smells like Shuichi now. I guess that's not such a bad consolation prize after everything else I've fucked up or lost.

And when I close my eyes, I see it yet again, the very moment, the very instant, when I betrayed Shuichi. Electric ecstasy exciting my every sense. Wanton and wasteful, fantastic but forbidden, teasing and taunting and trapping me with lust. My grubby, grimy, greedy hands stuck in the cookie jar. Just for one taste of an illusion as sweet as sugar melting on the tongue.

I deserve to hurt. I deserve to be hurt by Shuichi. I hope he laughs at me. I hope he crushes me underfoot just like I did to so many others.

But, I know he won't. Thankfully, that will only torture me more.

"Ryuichi?"

Huh? I lift my head off the pillow, my sweat-drenched hair plastered to my forehead and cheeks. Molly is really going to have to get these sheets washed later. Shuichi's head is just barely peeking into my room, a little tendril of pink caught in his eyelashes.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a valiant eyelash protecting such sparkling eyes from the sun.

"Um, I brought you some water and some food. Molly-san says that it might help your headache a little."

"Yeah, okay." I pull myself up, with a great deal of effort, into a sitting position. Shuichi comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, and hands me the water, and then a plastic cup of chocolate putting with a spoon in it.

"It's a little trick Yuki taught me," Shuichi says, taking the glass back after I sip, "When I had the flu. Chocolate pudding doesn't taste as bad coming back up. You know, in case you feel queasy again."

Yuki-san took care of Shuichi when he had the flu? Somehow, I find that very hard to believe. But, they have been together now for more than two years. I guess there has to be -some- reason why Shuichi likes Yuki, even if I can't, for the life of me, really figure out what it is.

Then again, Tohma was always saying he could never figure out why I loved someone as boring as Tomi. But, Tomi wasn't really boring. He was just...calming. He was the rock I could hold onto when I couldn't help but be a storm. I'd never really had anything like that, anything keeping me in place, keeping me still, before Tomi. And after he died, I never found anything like it again.

And now, now I want so badly to hold onto Shuichi. Before I slip away, before the winds blow me far from shore. The sea is endless, and lonely. And when the winds die down, I can only look down from the sky above and see my own reflection looking back at me in the placid waters of the ocean. I can only cry and cry until the storm clouds in my heart are bereft of tears, until the rain pounds into the water and dissolves the one face with which I do not want to be alone: my own. I can only cry until the clouds are no more, and the sun is free to shine again.

Everyone wants something to hold onto, don't they? It's only natural, isn't it? And it isn't bad to want, is it?

Am I bad? Am I a bad person?

If Tohma is right, Shuichi will leave me, eventually. I don't know if I will be able to deal with that, with losing what I have wanted for so long, an anchor, a rock. It barely brushed against my fingertips as I strained with hand outstretched, and then fled from my touch. The cookie jar pulled away, my illusion ripped from me, like a limb. That's what they say, isn't it? "An eye for a lie, a tooth for the truth?"

I'll be crushed...if...when...he leaves me.

And this time, this time there will be no Tohma to come and pull me out of the bathtub.

"I'm sorry I kicked you out of my bed this morning, Shu," I say between bites of pudding. It slides down my throat, coating the dryness with sticky sweet chocolate. "Are you mad?"

"Nah. I understand. I hope you don't mind but I stole some of those magazines you bought and I've been reading them. There's a great interview with the lead singer of Tsunami Puppets in Music Splash this month."

Won...der...ful.

"He just goes on and on about how you were his inspiration for their last album."

Lovely.

"I think maybe he has a crush on you, a little. I mean, a lot of people do, it seems."

Kill. Me. Now.

Okay, I've decided. I can absolutely -never- tell Shuichi about what happened yesterday. That's not lying, is it? It's more like 'omission of truth', which isn't lying as much as -protecting-. I am protecting Shuichi. And so, yes, maybe it does also benefit -me- because then Shuichi won't know that I completely ruined his chances with Yuki Eiri, but he's already coming to terms with that, so it doesn't really matter, does it?

"It must be really great to know you inspire others. I mean, as if making wonderful music isn't enough, you cause others to make enjoyable music, too." Even though my head is pounding, absolutely throbbing, I can't take my eyes off of Shuichi. Is he glowing? Is he giving off light? How does he do it? How does he go on all the while bearing such remarkable pain? "I hope someday I can also inspire people, maybe."

I don't know what to say. I want to say 'Shuichi, because of your singing, I originally re-formed Nittle Grasper. You inspire me, simply and truly. Your voice is like pure sunshine, breaking through the storm clouds in my heart.' But, I'm not exactly that eloquent so, I just say, "Oh, I got you something, na no da!"

"Really? A present?"

I nod and, after handing Shuichi the pudding cup, throw myself to the other side of the bed. This isn't exactly a good move since it just makes my vision go kinda dark, but I shake it off. Rummaging around, I find my prize and pop back up, more slowly, to hand Shuichi the bracelet I bought.

"Oh, it's fuzzy!" Shuichi giggles while I take his hand and snap the band onto his wrist. His titter causes his hair to shake, and I imagine each lock tipped with invisible bells, jingling and chiming just outside the range of the human ear. "It tickles a little."

"Do you like it, na no da?"

"Yup! It's very cool. Thanks."

"Um..." I'm exactly seventeen years old, again. I'm just trying to keep my cool while waiting behind the stadium, a CD clutched to my chest, my eyes on the metal door where one of my music idols should soon emerge. The line between raging fanboy and rock star is about as thin as the line between friend and lover. "Shuichi, would you...um..."

"Oh, you have a copy of 'Critical Sunshine'? I didn't think you...you know...listened to that sort of stuff."

I reach into my nightstand and pull out a paint pen. Gold. That'll work. I hand it to Shuichi, not exactly looking at him. Kumagoro smiles at me. He thinks this is a good idea, too. Maybe Shuichi will understand what I am trying to say.

"You want -me- to sign this for -you-?"

I nod as Kuma-chan climbs into my lap. Shuichi's question makes me feel just a little bit ridiculous. But, seeing as how I go through most of my life being perceived as mildly ridiculous by others, I guess I will survive.

"Um, okay," Shuichi says, popping the pen lid off with his teeth. He holds it there, in the corner of his mouth, while he asks, "You want it to say anything in particular?"

"Nah...just...whatever."

The paint pen squeaks a little as Shuichi writes. He seems to stop for a moment, making a soft "Hm" noise in the back of his throat before finishing. Afterwards, he blows softly on the paint to make sure it is dried before handing the CD back to me. "Okay, here you go."

"Thanks, Shu-chan, you're the best."

"No problem. Anyway, I'll let you get back to sleep now, okay?" Shu hops off the bed and heads for the door, his hair bouncing in time to the swing of his lithe hips. Little baby bird hips. Feathery hair like the wings of a hummingbird...

I'm suddenly struck with immense fear as I recall my dream of crows and butterflies.

Maybe Shuichi isn't...at all...who I think he is.

Maybe the one person I've trusted, this whole time, is the one of which I should have been wary. What do I really know about Shuichi, anyway?

Looking down at the CD in my hand, I read the haiku Shuichi has written. And then I know, I know that I am wrong. Shuichi is just Shuichi. He can't be anything else.

"Eclipsed by a storm...

The butterflies wait, once more...

To behold the sun."

"You're going to get a stomachache if you keep eating ice cream like that."

I think I already have one. And a headache, too. I must have eaten too fast. The pounding in my head seems to be keeping time with the sound of waves crashing against something, like pulsing radio static made of water.

"Why don't you open your eyes, Ryuichi? You have such pretty eyes. I never get tired of them."

"If I open my eyes, the sea will make me dizzy," I reply.

"Yes, but everything makes you dizzy. Remember the time when we were making out and you fell off the couch? You're a man cursed with perpetual vertigo of the soul."

Tomi.

I do open my eyes, immediately. I'm sitting on a bench on some seaside boardwalk, somewhere. I think maybe it's Yokohama. The wind zips off the water and fills my lungs with the smell of salt and fish, and surprisingly, hotdogs. Little sailboats with crisp triangles of sails rake through the rolling water. Ugh. Rolling water.

"Well, don't look at it, if it makes you queasy," Tomi says. I look at him, instead of the water, and find that he's wearing a giant Kumagoro costume and eating a hotdog. Well, at least I know where the smell came from. Tomi has a great big grin on his face, his blue eyes crinkled up at the edges with immeasurable mirth. He looks so good like this, sitting up by himself, eating by himself, here once again with me. I toss the banana split I've apparently been eating onto the sidewalk and throw myself into his arms.

"Tomiiiiiii." Yes, it does appear that I can squeal -exactly- like Shuichi. "Missed you soooo much."

"I missed you, Ryu-kochou. I missed you, too." Oversized pink paws pat my back gently, "But, I'm here now. You're okay. And, everything will be alright, na no da."

He smells so good, and not at all like I remembered. Fresh like the sea and tinged with mint. I grind my nose into his chest, just trying to fill my lungs with every last ounce of Tomi. Except, well, he's wearing a Kumagoro costume, so I mostly get a nose full of fluff.

"What's with the costume, Tomi?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replies with a chuckle, prying my face out of his chest, "You tell me. It's your dream, Ryuichi. And, while you're at it, you might explain the hotdog and the banana. Talk about mixing up sex and lunch..."

"Ooo, is it one of -those- dreams?" I straddle Tomi's legs and wiggle my eyebrows in the most lascivious manner possible. "I like those dreams."

"Well," Tomi puts his arms around my shoulders and pulls me forward until our foreheads touch, "I don't think that's why you brought me here, is it?"

"Your breath smells like hotdog."

Tomi purses his lips in a small pout as he leans against the back of the bench. "Ryu, time for playing is over. You have to get serious."

"Okay, it -seriously- smells like hotdog."

Shaking his head, Tomi slips off the Kumagoro gloves and takes my hands in his. He has big awkward hands, just like the rest of his body, so gangly and seemingly clumsy. But, he holds my fingers quite steady. It's very reassuring, really. "Don't you have something you want to tell me?"

I want to hug him, to plaster my body to his and never, ever let go again. But, Tomi holds me firmly in place. Shyly, I turn my gaze from his hands to his eyes, swimmingly blue, electric blue...

Ocean blue.

And then, then I know...

All this time, all this time that I've been alone, staring into the sea which I thought held nothing but my own reflection looking back at me, Tomi has been there. I've been searching for him at the bottom of the ocean, plunging myself in again and again, drowning myself purposefully in sorrow just to find Tomi. But, the whole time, he's been here.

Every tear that I let fall is just one more drop of Tomi I can never get back. And, all those tears have gathered together to make an ocean.

Nobody can hold the ocean, and I can't hold Tomi, not for real, but I can know that he will never go anywhere. No matter where this little storm cloud is blown...

The waves of the ocean will continue to cheer for me.

"Tomi, I think I am in love with someone."

"I know, little pancake, I know." He lifts our hands and rubs the back of his knuckles lightly against my cheeks, "And I want you to find love. As much as you can. I want you to have so much love that it makes you glow from within. But, Ryuichi, what is love? Is it getting what you want, merely because you want it? Is it tossing away friendships just because someone has done something to displease you? Is there love in hurting yourself or hurting others? And, Ryuichi..."

I feel my hands drop back down into my lap. Tomi's fingers skitter through my hair, brushing it away from my eyes.

"...Can love be replaced? No. It never can. Love is like little pints of ice cream. There are dozens and dozens of wonderful flavors. When one is gone, it does no good to sit and mope about it. And it does no good to expect the other flavors to taste anything like the first. But, I've never had an ice cream I didn't like. Have you?"

I smile. How does he know...exactly what to say? I guess that's why I loved him. No. That's why I love him still.

"Probably wouldn't like hotdog ice cream."

"No, I suppose not, na no da. Or spinach either." Tomi wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. I feel so much better now. Not queasy. Not dizzy. No headache at all. Just still. And I can't hear the waves anymore. Or the wind. There's just my breathing, and Tomi's, and the very faint sound of a solitary cello that plays just for us.

"Remember when I told you the story of the butterfly and the crow, Ryu-chan? You always hated that story, didn't you?"

"It was the worst one you ever came up with, na no da. Such a mean story! The butterfly and the crow both get killed! What kind of children's story is -that- supposed to be?"

"Ah, but popsicle," Tomi whispers, bringing his lips to just above my ear, "I re-wrote it just for you, don't you remember? You never remember anything, do you?"

Now it is my turn to pout. Alright, I am a bit forgetful, but I remember a lot of stuff. I mean, really...

Remembering stuff is Kumagoro's job.

"Think hard," Tomi says, stroking the back of my neck with his forefinger, just like someone might do the wing of a hummingbird.

Hummingbird!

"That's right. When the horde of butterflies came to kill the crow, they couldn't find him. It was because the butterfly he swallowed, the butterfly he loved, fused with his soul. He became half bird and half butterfly. He was a hummingbird. Is that right, Tomi?"

"Yes, that's right."

"But, what does it mean?"

"Oh, Ryu-chan. You'll have to figure that out on your own. But, you can do it. You're a lot smarter and stronger than you give yourself credit for. Now..." Tomi's lips curve into a crooked but rather sultry smile, "Give me a kiss, please. I want to taste your banana split, na no da."

"Oooo, cheeky. I thought this wasn't one of those kinds of dreams."

"Well silly, it is all in -your- head, you know."

Oh.

Oooooh.

Goody, goody, gumdrops.

It turns out that I like hotdogs with ice cream, after all.

I wake up feeling about nine million percent better. Can you have nine million percents? I consult Kumagoro, since he always was better at math, but he just shrugs.

Alright, seven million, then.

Hm. There are...voices...coming from the direction of my living room...

"You'll like Los Angeles, though. I went there with Ayaka last year, remember? It's really great. There's dance clubs, great fashion, and lots of movie stars and...uh... Well, it's a lot like Tokyo, actually, but with American people instead of Japanese."

I sit up in bed. That's Hiroshi-kun. Oh yeah. I forgot he was coming to visit Shuichi today. Ugh. Stupid, stupid brain. Why didn't you remind me, Kumagoro?

You forgot too? We -must- be getting old.

"I'd rather just stay here, though," Shuichi replies quietly. Well, I agree with him there. America -is- great, but I'm not ready to go back yet.

"Maybe it will be good for you, Shu. Getting away from Japan might help, a little. We can throw ourselves into the new album, without any distractions. And if we do really well, Seguchi-san won't have any choice but to bring us back to Japan."

I stand up and check to make sure that, yes, I am dressed. Alright, I'm not exactly presentable. Kumagoro suggests a quick run to the bathroom for some teeth-brushing and a quick shower. I have to agree.

What is it about water that can make you feel so much more -alive-? Sometimes, I think people are a lot more like plants than we realize. A little water, a little air, a little sunshine, and wilting limbs can perk right up. If I were a plant, I think I'd be a hanging philodendron. Because 'philodendron' is a fun word to say, and I bet the hanging ones get dizzy, too.

Shuichi would be a poppy flower, I think. Playful and bright, but strangely dangerous to those who become addicted. Yuki Eiri seems like the cactus type. Not because of the thorns, but more because he seems to hold everything inside, like a cactus holds water.

Tohma would be a Venus Fly Trap.

Squint.

I think Tomi would be a fern, just a common Boston fern, a friendly sort of plant that you can talk to and feel less alone. Molly would be a simple, but genial daisy...

And my bodyguard would be a massive California Redwood re-transplanted by aliens to the planet Neptune.

I don't know what Hiroshi-kun would be. I should ask him later.

So, I wash all the appropriate bits as I sing the 'shower song' with Kumagoro. I think things are really going to look up from here on out. I'm going to try to really think hard on what Tomi said in my dream, which, I suppose, is actually what I told -myself-, since it is all in my head. But, really, it is just so much more simpler to think about it as coming from Tomi.

I've got to get serious. Seriously serious. Extra serious. Godzilla serious.

On the other hand, I'm mildly relieved that Hiroshi is here. As long as he stays, Shuichi won't ask me what happened yesterday, and I won't be forced to lie to him. I'll have a bit of time to think, to mentally organize my plan of attack. I mean, Tomi has faith in me to figure this all out, so I should be able to do it, right?

Tomi never asked me to do anything I couldn't do.

RIGHT! You and me Kumagoro. We're soldiers in the War Against Confusion and Apathy. We're Brigadier Generals in the Crusade of Love! We're Nuclear Bombs of Shiny Shiny ready to Irradiate Happiness into any sad lumps of humanity that get in our way!!

Okay, yeah, you're right, I did go a bit far with the nuclear bomb one.

What's that? Camouflage pants and combat boots? Excellent choice, Kumagoro. You've still got the touch, my friend. Kumagoro, can you wear a frilly white shirt with camouflage pants? Okay. Good. I mean, just because you're in a war doesn't mean you have to become a fashion criminal.

Kuma-chan and I get dressed and march out into the living room.

Oh yes.

Have no fear...

Ryuichi and Kumagoro are here.

Our butts are in gear...

'Cause we're not going to take this goddamn shit anymore.

Actually, Shuichi and Hiro just laughed at me. They kept teasing me, asking if I've joined up with the Gucci Army in the hopes of laying siege and bringing carnage to the runways of Milan. But, it was really all in fun, so I laughed along.

We had a really great afternoon, na no da. Hiroshi-kun -really- knows how to make Shuichi laugh, and how to put him in the -best- mood. I think it did good for Shuichi to have someone to talk to, someone who has a different viewpoint on things.

Someone who isn't a Ryuichi or a Kumagoro.

Shuichi cooked lunch for us, too. He's really such a good cook. I guess he learned it from Yuki-san, maybe. It's hard for me to think of Yuki subsisting on much besides beer and cigarettes, but I guess he has to eat, too. After lunch, we had some of the chocolate cheesecake Molly brought over from the Parisian bakery I like.

We even sat around and jammed for a while. That was really more fun than I can possibly describe. Shu-chan sang, and Hiro played guitar. I mostly played bass and did some backup vocals for Shuichi. It was strange playing without a keyboardist, for once. I guess I could have done keyboard, but the only one I have is the one Tohma gave me to compose on...

The one Tohma taught me to play on...

And that just had too many icky memories. And this afternoon was a strictly -no- bad memories zone.

This is not to say that I'm completely ignoring the "situation". While I am playing bass, I'm planning, plotting, oh yes, the wheels are turning in Sakuma Ryuichi's head. I'm focused. Sharp as fire. Hot as a tack.

Sigh. You know what I mean.

AHEM! Please listen up. Item the -first-. As soon as humanly possible, I need to speak to K. If anyone can figure out a way to convince Tohma to -not- send Shuichi to America, it would be K.

Item the -second-. After that, I need to speak to Nori-chan. I'll tell her how I fucked up at that bizarre restaurant with that fake Shuichi. Certainly, she'll have some good advice. And if she doesn't, I'm pretty sure she'll slap me around until whatever good neurons I have left fire and form a useful idea.

Item the -fourth-...

What do you mean, third, Kumagoro? This is the fourth one.

No. The third one was the Noriko thing.

Please don't stop me, I'm on a roll here.

Item the -fourth-, Shuichi can absolutely -not- sleep in my bed anymore.

Item the -fifth-, I can not sleep in -his- bed anymore, either.

Item the...oh...

Oh no...

Oh, Shuichi, why do you have to sing like that? That's not swimming pools in summer, that's an ocean. Please don't go into the ocean, Shuichi. I can't go in there and pull you out. I don't want to drown again. I'm going to fix everything. It's going to be alright, and you don't have to be sad, because I'm going to fix it. I can fix everything! No matter how many broken pieces...

No. Please don't...don't...

Please don't sing Shining Collection like that, not like that...

Don't sing it like an elegy, like a requiem for the funeral of sound.

Please...

I look down at the bass guitar in my hands. It's baby blue, the least expensive one I own, but...

It's only a replica.

It's just a replacement of the one Tomi gave me.

And, no matter how much I tune it and tweak it...

It just never sounds quite the same as the first.

After Hiroshi-kun left to catch his late plane back to Whatever Island, Shuichi decided to go to bed. (Hiro did pull me aside, briefly, and thanked me for looking after Shuichi. I'm supposed to call him if anything else bad happens.) Anyway, Shuichi looked very tired, and I can understand why. He stayed up late last night waiting for me, and then had to get up early when I kicked him out of bed.

Plus, singing like -that- is horribly draining. It's a lot like crying, except the tears come out of your mouth instead of your eyes.

Shuichi went to bed. To -my- bed. And I, I did not stop him. How could I?

Tomorrow. I will -definitely- talk to him about that -tomorrow-.

Or the next day.

Maybe.

No, I will. I really will.

So, here I am, sitting on the couch in my pajamas with my feet up, an English rhyming dictionary on my lap, trying to come up with matches for 'philodendron'.

I think "dodecahedron" might be -close-, but I have no idea how to write a song involving both philodendrons -and- dodecahedrons.

Hm? Well, yes, it would be much simpler just to write a song about poppies, Kumagoro. But, do we really want to promote drugs with our songs? Even obscurely?

What am I doing? I don't even have a band anymore, and I'm still sitting here writing songs. What else am I supposed to do? Type up my resume and send it over to the Softy Tasty? Apply to teach choir to sixth graders? I mean, I adore kids, but there is only so much discordant ear-piercing singing one man can take.

Writing lyrics. Singing. This is what I have done for more than a decade. What else can I do?

And I have to do something. I have to do -something-. Complete retirement is just too depressing to think about.

I could work on my solo career again.

Ahahahahahaha. I kill me.

I have no delusions about that. If I try to get on another label as a solo artist, Tohma will use his connections to blacklist me at every studio from here to St. Petersburg.

I sigh and look up at my Kandinsky print. Did you know that Kandinsky had a theory about art? He thought that just by putting his passion, his emotion, his love into his painting, that he could heal people. He thought that if they could just see his love for the world, the beauty he beheld, the awe and wonder of it all, that he could mend their hearts from afar.

This one, it is called 'Circles In A Circle'. So many colors, like pulsing spheres gathered together, loving one another, sharing the true beauty of their souls. Dozens of little candy hued bubbles, one second from popping, rubbing up against each other, sliding their sultry curves around in a game of seduction, trying to press into one another. Small bubbles trying to make love. Large bubbles radiating mirth and joy.

Yes. I like this painting.

On the other hand, sometimes it just reminds me of a flashy disco.

And flashy clubs remind me of 'Double Glitz'.

And 'Double Glitz' reminds me of...

My thought is cut off by a knock on the door, a gentle tapping, which puts me in the mind of Tomi's beloved Edgar Allen Poe. 'Tis some visitor,' I think, 'gently rapping, tapping at my chamber door.'

Thank -god- ravens don't know how to use elevators.

I hope.

Who could it be this late at night? Ten, maybe, coming to check on me? Molly with something important to sign? Eh, probably so.

I hop up and bounce across the room, feeling refreshed and healed a bit from staring at my Kandinsky print.

Not really thinking, not really paying attention, I grab the doorknob, twist, and pull. "Come in, come in, na no..."

Tohma has one hand against the doorframe, almost completely supporting the weight of his upper body. I'm greeted by the crown of his head, the ephemeral sheen of his impossibly blonde hair reflecting the light from my living room as he stares at his feet, and one word spoken as quietly as the beating of butterfly wings...

"Ryuichi..."

Simultaneously, every single muscle in my body tenses. I'm cringing, pulling away from the door with one side of my body and pushing forward with the other. I'm so surprised. This is so unexpected that I don't even have time to think, to reconsider, to remember anything but how angry I felt that night when we discovered him with Yuki Eiri.

Seething red as poppies, bleeding white milk rage from my philodendron fingertips, I snarl. A bonfire burns in my skin, the conflagration of loathing around which we naked pagans will dance in celebration when you...Tohma...when you hurt, too.

And then, because I am, at my core, mean and vindictive, I slam the door in his face.

Tohma. Why is he...here?

I lean my back against the door, panting from the shock. My knees feel a bit weak, and my vision...

"Ryuichi...." he says again, only barely loud enough for me to hear it through the door.

"Go away." No. No, that's not what I really mean. I'm supposed to fix things, I know. I just don't know if I am ready yet. I think you were wrong, Tomi. I'm not smart, or strong, enough for this. I don't want to face what's behind this door because I know...I know...

And I have always known...

That it will end badly. It can only end badly, no matter how much Tomi tries to re-write the story for me.

(The omission of truth isn't lying. It's protecting. It's -protecting-.)

"Please let me in, Ryuichi. I know you are there. I can see the shadows of your feet underneath the door."

No. No. I am going to fix things -my- way, Tohma. Not your way. I don't want to know your way. I don't want to know. I thought I wanted the truth, but I don't really. I want my fantasy. I want bubbles and brightness and liquorice and light. I want euphoric angels and seraphim sex. Don't take my hope from me. Don't take Shuichi away. Not yet.

"I have to talk to you, please." The pleading in his voice sends a shiver up my spine. How can he sound scared? How can he even deign to sound scared? Tohma's never afraid, he's not allowed to be afraid.

Why is Tohma afraid?

"Please don't shut me out. Not tonight. It's such a mess, Ryuichi. I screwed up."

Hesitantly, I put my hand on the doorknob. Just two fingers against the brass. So shiny, and polished, and real. I can hold it closed. I can lock it. He won't get in here, Shuichi. I...I...

Graceful and glittering and gossamer, faint and fragile and fluttering, Tohma's voice oozes through the pores in the wood, unstoppable and unrelenting. Inescapable.

"Please, Ryuichi...I need you."

Oh, Tohma...

Please. I beg you. In the words of Mr. Poe...

'Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door.'

Author Notes:

You may notice that this chapter does not have a chapter preview for the -next- chapter. That would be because this is only about half of what was supposed to happen in this chapter. This is only, really, the first half of chapter 9.

I guess this is not a very plot intensive chapter. It is mostly about Ryuichi attempting to reflect on things, I suppose. A transitional chapter, and for that, I apologize.

It -would- have been a plot intensive chapter if I didn't split it up into two chapters. But, then it would have been -much- longer than the other chapters. And it would have taken much longer to update. So, I hope this part will suffice for now.

Review Notes:

As always, I thank you all for your reviews. Reponses to your reviews have been posted at my website, which is located at:

angrybee.vze.com

I look forward to hearing from you, and please feel free to ask me any questions you have about the chapter, or point out any errors. I will get on answers/corrections ASAP!

Thanks again!

And a special thank-you to certain Gravitation fans and communities which have been extra-supportive. You will never know how much it means to me. Thank you.

FFNet Note:

It appears that FF.net doesn't exactly like the page markers I use anymore. Sorry if this chapter looks different from others. Had to use new ff.net formatting.