"Ohayou, Ei-chan! Wakey wakey!"

The same loud voice that had been bothering Yuki for days sounded once again into his ears. "You don't have to shout at the volume, you know. I can hear you."

But that suggestion fell only upon Kumagoro's ears, which was hanging off the edge of Ryuichi's head. Yuki, not wanting to be disturbed from his beauty slumber, turned around and buried his head into the pillow, only to have Ryuichi seated on his back.

"Ne ne! Ei-chan! What do you want to do todaaaaaaaaay!" He shouted and bounced a bit on Yuki's back, causing the younger man below to feel some pain shooting up from his spine.

"Argh! Get off me right now!" Yuki shouted and shoved Ryuichi off, getting up in the process. "Can't someone have some peace around here!"

Ryuichi looked puzzled. Peace? Heiwa? Ei-chan wants heiwa?

"Kuma-chan! Take care of Ei-chan for me when I'm gone!" Ryuichi shouted out cheerfully as he bounced through the doorway and out of the room, leaving Kumagoro alone with Yuki, who was slightly relieved at the exit of the 'rock god'.

But seconds later, Ryuichi came back bouncing in, "Ei-chan! I've got you your 'heiwa'!"

Yuki turned his head slightly to see what rubbish Ryuichi had brought back. But he caught something familiar in front of his eyes… something that he had grown so accustomed to… something that he treasured.

"…Shuichi?"

The figure smiled at Yuki, but shook his head. He reached up to his hair and pulled it off, only to reveal a lively brown shade underneath, with the exact same cut. "Iie! I'm not Shuu-chan! I'm Ryu-chan! Remember?"

Ryuichi beamed widely as he laughed at Yuki's blunder. He then pointed to a box right next to him, which was filled with an endless number of… wigs? (Note: 'peace' in Japanese is pronounced as 'heiwa' that, to Ryuichi, sounds like 'hair'.)

"Ugh…" Yuki groaned as Ryuichi proceeded to 'search' through the box (which in other words, means throw out what he does not need while looking for what he needs) for something, which he couldn't catch through the muffled comment that Ryuichi made. Something like 'perfect' and 'wig' and 'Ei-chan'. Observing the level of Ryuichi's excitement, Yuki smelled trouble for he knew that whenever Ryuichi was excited, trouble usually tags along.

"Tada!" Ryuichi sang as he pulled out a light purple wig and jammed it right on Yuki's head with all his might. He took a step back and examined his new 'masterpiece'.

"Ah! It looks so good on you no da! Ei-chan! You really should look at yourself in the mirror no da!" Ryuichi exclaimed, oblivious to the pained look on Yuki's face while he was recovering from shock and the impact that Ryuichi had bestowed upon Yuki's head. I really wonder why Tohma sent him here to keep me company. I didn't know Tohma wanted me dead… Yuki thought to himself as he glared at the beaming Ryuichi, snatching the wig from his head and throwing it on the floor.

And for once, Ryuichi gave a bewildered look, as though he had noticed Yuki's unpleasant behavior. "Ei-chan, are you ok?"

Yuki glared harder at the puppy-eyed singer. "How do you think I am?"

"Happy?" Ryuichi's eyes brightened up again in hope.

"…Wrong."

"Ryu-chan isn't making you happy?"

Yuki's jaw nearly dropped in surprise.

"How can you expect me to be happy if you're here creating trouble for me and giving me a headache while I still have to worry about handing up my script on time for editing!" Yuki shot back at Ryuichi.

"Ei-chan… doesn't like Ryuichi?"

"No, I don't – " Yuki, shouted back but was cut off by the loud slamming of the door. Yuki cocked an eyebrow, wondering what mischief Ryuichi would be up to now. Perhaps he'd bring me my laptop? Yuki thought as he stared at the door, waiting for the rock god to come back in bouncing with his laptop and hopefully manages to keep it in one piece.

But Yuki waited, and waited and waited.

Even as he was having lunch and dinner, Yuki kept his eyes fixed on the handle of the door, hoping that it'd turn ever so slightly. Hope rose in him whenever the door swung open, but it only revealed doctors and nurses coming to check on his condition.

Night came and went and Yuki began to get tired of waiting. He thought that perhaps Ryuichi was having a hard time getting into his apartment and would most probably be back tomorrow. He felt comforted that his laptop would arrive tomorrow and fell asleep, snoozing on the uncomfortable bed that he had laid upon the last 3 days.

And his laptop did arrive.

It was sitting nicely upon the tray in front of his bed and was already set up for his use. Yuki reached forward to bring it onto his lap and he let his fingers trail across the keyboard, sighing in content. Then, he switched it on and opened a new document, fingers racing across the keyboard as paragraphs of words began to form on the screen. Occasionally, the novelist would stop and ponder on what to write next before continuing or take a break and stare out of the window.

He was so absorbed in writing that he didn't notice that he didn't have visitors that day, or the next.

It took Yuki a whole entire week (of which he managed to complete his new book) to realize that he hadn't seen or heard his most regular visitor since don't know when. Deciding that he was bored and that he had nothing to do, he looked up the words 'Sakuma Ryuichi' up on the Internet, and was fascinated by what he found.

Endless number of links leading to different articles on Sakuma Ryuichi (and of course, some Nittle Grasper ones popping up every now and then) sprung out onto the search page. Yuki could hardly manage to catch any article that was actually bad-mouthing Ryuichi, and clicked each link according to his preference, which wasn't a factor.

After an hour of reading, Yuki got sick and tired of being presented with the praises of the very irritating and loud Ryuichi, which these journalists never seem notice, or at least, never mentioned anything about this childish side of his. They all viewed the rock god as a mature, sensible and talented singer, which Yuki totally refuses to agree with. Rage built up within him and he wanted to destroy the singer's career, by doing what he does best –

Write.

He mulled for a moment, before lifting his fingers and letting them run across the keyboard, while the words on the screen began to form sentences, and black lines formed across the monitor. He only stopped at moments to push his spectacles up his nose, and once, to look up when Tohma stepped in.

"Eiri…"

"What?"

"Where's… Ryuichi?"