Langer 6
Notes: Sorry for the long delay! I was trying to write original and thinking I'd be a full time writer and stuff and yeah... I should finish this story soon.
Chapter Six
Just as it wasn't natural for Shuichi to be silent, some things were meant to work out badly. Climbing down into the elevator shaft, he understood that people did not climb back up. People that followed ghosts into rubble did not come back out. That was just the natural way of the world.
Uesugi Eiri had never had much faith in the world and every time he feel in love everything always went to hell eventually. The concrete used in the building was good stuff, smooth and cool even when it was broken, twisted. The soles of Eiri's shoes were smooth, five hundred dollar Gucci's that slipped on the rubble. Deep enough into the hole not to be seen from outside, he paused, holding to a bent iron reinforcement bar and carpeted section of floor, he toed them off, letting them fall down into the darkness below him. It was a long time till the shoes hit, banging against things all the way down. Only the thought that Shuichi might, just might be alive, in this heap, kept him from just following the shoes down.
Eiri had a good body though, strong, lean, good balance, and he needed them all on the way down. He wanted to have a chat with the people who'd approved this building. He was sure there had to be a good twelve stories below the surface. His hands left skin and blood in the rubble.
He'd written some stories with happy endings, where the love interest wasn't dead just because the hero cried her back to live. They sold well. Things like that didn't really happen. Of course. He hadn't really seen Shuichi's spirit either.
He wanted that happy ending now. He deserved one in his life, didn't he? To find Shuichi pinned under some rubble, unconscious, but alive, pink hair full of dust and face scrapped. Eiri could picture it in his mind, picture lifting the rubble off little by little. It was just his imagination though. His imagination was also very able to supply him with images of Shuichi that would defiantly put the pink explosion's spirit without a body.
That had been his problem, he thought, hands sore, socks ruined and hiding scraps on his feet that made the thin silk sick to his skin. The bottom of the shaft had taken him down so far he couldn't see out the top, but then it was dark out there. He also couldn't understand why the emergency workers had not found this passage down. "Shuichi?"
A little farther down the hall way he'd climbed into some emergency lighting was on. The floor was metal, and Eiri's logic took over where his imagination left off. It was a laboratory. And then hope flared like it hadn't in decades. Maybe it had never been like this, hope that he could really win, not just beat out others and win at writing or fighting, or being the most romantic, but win, as in be happy and be loved. This lab offered the chance that Shuichi was alive. If he was alive, Eiri could find him.
Eiri picked up a broken steel bar, hefted it in his hand as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was something down here. It made his instincts scream. He's been a Shinto Priest before he was a writer, and a fighter before that. He had no paper to write blessings on for his weapon, but he imagined the blessing he'd write, wrote it on his heart for love and good fortune, for righteous victory, and started down the hall. Shuichi appeared at the end of the hall, hands up, warning, head shaking 'no, no!', pink hair flying. "Go back! Don't come here!"
Eiri tightened his grip on his bar. Something was going to get it's ass kicked for scaring Shuichi.
Notes: Sorry for the long delay! I was trying to write original and thinking I'd be a full time writer and stuff and yeah... I should finish this story soon.
Chapter Six
Just as it wasn't natural for Shuichi to be silent, some things were meant to work out badly. Climbing down into the elevator shaft, he understood that people did not climb back up. People that followed ghosts into rubble did not come back out. That was just the natural way of the world.
Uesugi Eiri had never had much faith in the world and every time he feel in love everything always went to hell eventually. The concrete used in the building was good stuff, smooth and cool even when it was broken, twisted. The soles of Eiri's shoes were smooth, five hundred dollar Gucci's that slipped on the rubble. Deep enough into the hole not to be seen from outside, he paused, holding to a bent iron reinforcement bar and carpeted section of floor, he toed them off, letting them fall down into the darkness below him. It was a long time till the shoes hit, banging against things all the way down. Only the thought that Shuichi might, just might be alive, in this heap, kept him from just following the shoes down.
Eiri had a good body though, strong, lean, good balance, and he needed them all on the way down. He wanted to have a chat with the people who'd approved this building. He was sure there had to be a good twelve stories below the surface. His hands left skin and blood in the rubble.
He'd written some stories with happy endings, where the love interest wasn't dead just because the hero cried her back to live. They sold well. Things like that didn't really happen. Of course. He hadn't really seen Shuichi's spirit either.
He wanted that happy ending now. He deserved one in his life, didn't he? To find Shuichi pinned under some rubble, unconscious, but alive, pink hair full of dust and face scrapped. Eiri could picture it in his mind, picture lifting the rubble off little by little. It was just his imagination though. His imagination was also very able to supply him with images of Shuichi that would defiantly put the pink explosion's spirit without a body.
That had been his problem, he thought, hands sore, socks ruined and hiding scraps on his feet that made the thin silk sick to his skin. The bottom of the shaft had taken him down so far he couldn't see out the top, but then it was dark out there. He also couldn't understand why the emergency workers had not found this passage down. "Shuichi?"
A little farther down the hall way he'd climbed into some emergency lighting was on. The floor was metal, and Eiri's logic took over where his imagination left off. It was a laboratory. And then hope flared like it hadn't in decades. Maybe it had never been like this, hope that he could really win, not just beat out others and win at writing or fighting, or being the most romantic, but win, as in be happy and be loved. This lab offered the chance that Shuichi was alive. If he was alive, Eiri could find him.
Eiri picked up a broken steel bar, hefted it in his hand as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was something down here. It made his instincts scream. He's been a Shinto Priest before he was a writer, and a fighter before that. He had no paper to write blessings on for his weapon, but he imagined the blessing he'd write, wrote it on his heart for love and good fortune, for righteous victory, and started down the hall. Shuichi appeared at the end of the hall, hands up, warning, head shaking 'no, no!', pink hair flying. "Go back! Don't come here!"
Eiri tightened his grip on his bar. Something was going to get it's ass kicked for scaring Shuichi.