Warnings: uncontrollable fluff, other pairing indications, bad "attempted" use of the Japanese language, and other stuff that I probably didn't mention.
Author's Note: *sigh* I've finally gotten un-lazy and posted the seventh installment of The Opposite of Gravity. I've been SO busy catching up with school work I refused to do because I was too intent on writing my fic to pay attention to and working on other fics that I'm sure will please everyone as soon as I manage to get them done. ^_^ Anyway, enough with the rambling. I don't really have much to say other than I'M SORRY!! Enjoy!
This chapter is dedicated to all of those Tachi lovers out there (myself included)! He's an intriguing character, and I just LOVE getting inside his head and seeing what makes him tick. As I've been told, I make people feel sorry for Tachi-chan. Heh, I have a soft spot for him, and I've always thought there was a deeper meaning behind his actions (against Shuichi and otherwise) other than jealousy. :P
Track Seven: Escaping the ShadowsTachi Aizawa shivered as an ache, colder and deeper than any he'd ever known, flowed over his skin, chilling him to the bone. His fingers were shaking and the icy metal in his hands fell onto the wet black top with a sickening clatter that made his stomach flop. An overwhelming wave of nausea flared over his mind, and he leaned to the side, dry retching until he could only gasp for breath, hoping that he was still alive. It had been a dream, he couldn't even remember where the gun had come from, and that contempt-filled gaze that had peered at him from behind the stage curtain had brought him back to a reality of flowing blood and screaming fans, and it had torn out his very soul. Aizawa curled into a ball, the empty alley comforting the emotional pain he felt, and he ignored the seeping wetness soaking the material of his jeans as he sobbed into his fists, weak, abused, and above all, stupid.
'Doushite? Doushite? I shouldn't have come back-' He gripped the cold brick of the building above him, his feet kicking the murderous weapon between overfilled garbage cans, and he staggered to stand, tripping over his own legs to get himself moving. He had to find refuge, his entire body was beginning to shut down, and all he could think about were beautiful blue eyes and ragged brown hair. Aizawa screamed in agony, startling innocent people as he stumbled on, blindly leading himself to a place, any place, that would welcome him for what he had been. He couldn't live with himself anymore, not after everything he had done, but something within him demanded that he survive. Was it for the love he'd felt, what seemed, an eternity ago?
The last thing he acutely recalled thinking was that there was a light on in the window he stared desperately at, and he thought he could hear familiar voices from inside. Aizawa knocked, his fingers shaking involuntarily, and the laugh that sounded instantly made him sigh in relief.
He was home.
"It's about time," a soft masculine tone spoke, but not directly to him. "I was thinking of eating you instead, Ken-chan." Blonde hair cascaded over a half-clothed shoulder as the door swung open, and Aizawa stared into blinking eyes, unable to comprehend what was happening because of the liberation flooding over him.
"What is it, Ma-kun?" Another face appeared beside the other man a moment later, shock washing over his features as well, and the vocalist immediately felt his teeth begin to chatter.
He was cold. So cold…
"Tachi?" Emotions exploded in a single wave. Ma and Ken wrapped the shivering Aizawa in their combined embrace, almost on the verge of tears as they babbled incessantly. They hadn't seen him in a while, only brief moments over the past month, and they couldn't believe that he was really there. They had missed him too much for words to express; Aizawa had always been the calm and collected one, their leader, and the completion of ASK, but when he had disappeared, hell had broken loose. NG-Records wanted nothing to do with them anymore, they were a fragmented band, and there had been no explanation as to why it had happened, though Ma and Ken had a vague idea. They weren't stupid, and they knew Aizawa shouldn't have touched that Shindou kid…not at all.
"Ma-kun...Ken-chan..." Aizawa rattled, unable to feel the lower half of his body. He couldn't even tell if he was standing. "Gomen. G-gomen-"
"Maa, daijoubu, Tachi," Ken answered, slipping beneath Ma's arms to hold the door. "Come in. Come in." Working together, they managed to drag their nearly lifeless friend into the apartment and put him on the couch before retrieving a jacket from the tiny closet. The place wasn't very big, but it suited them for the lifestyle they now lived, away from the glimmer and popularity of being Japanese pop stars. Ma played with the sleeve of the jacket momentarily and then handed it to Aizawa, realizing that holding it wasn't improving the situation of the quivering vocalist. Aizawa stared dumbfounded at it, trying to decipher it like a riddle, and he numbly slipped a hand through the arm, his motor skills as frozen as his body.
"Naa, Tachi..." Golden strands slipped over the ASK member's forehead as he stared at the plush carpet, torn between curiosity and contempt. He desperately wanted to know what Aizawa had been doing, where he had disappeared to after the alleged attempt on his life by Seguchi Tohma, but Ma could not form the right sentences in his mouth. Aizawa's tongue was also heavy, laden with the guilt he felt for betraying those he cared so much for, and he buried himself within the coat Ma had given him, afraid to look at his comrades and confess the truth. What would they really think of him if they found out he had...he had…
He couldn't even admit it to himself; it was just too unbelievable to be real!
"Gomen. Gomen, Ma-kun. Ken-chan," he apologized over and over, hot tears burning his eyes. "I didn't mean-"
"Naa, daijoubu, Tachi. It's alright," Ma interrupted, grabbing Ken by the hand and dragging him to sit on the couch beside the singer. "There's nothing to be sorry for."
"Yeah," Ken added, giving him a small smile. Aizawa just gazed at them, immediately saddened by the way they were looking at him with hope.
They would never understand.
"Iie. It's unforgivable, and…and I dragged both of you down with me. You should never have trusted me."
"We're a team. Stop saying that it's all your fault!" Ma commanded harshly, his handsome features creasing in anger. "That's all you've done since those things happened to that Shindou kid! I'm sick of it! We're all sick of it, Tachi!" Ken didn't say anything and examined his clasped hands with newfound interest. Aizawa blinked in surprise.
Ma was the stronger one; he always had been.
"Demo-"
"IIE! No more, Tachi. Just accept it and move on. We have and…and we're glad that you've come back," he whispered quietly, reaching over to take him by the hand. Aizawa jerked away.
"Don't," he whimpered weakly, forcing his legs to work as he stood and tumbled towards the door he'd been dragged through. Someone had closed it. "Don't bother-" The doorbell rang unexpectedly, and Aizawa fell backwards, his heart pounding too fast to control. His ebony hair was plastered to the nape of his neck, and he could feel the color in his face draining away. They had found him! They had tracked him down, and they would do terrible things to Ma and Ken –never mind himself- and…and…
"Tachi, what's wrong?" Ma asked as Ken answered the door and returned moments later with a box smelling of greasy cheese and spicy pepperoni.
"The pizza's here, Ma-chan!" he exclaimed, almost forgetting that Aizawa was on the floor, breathing heavily and paler than snow. "I-"
"B-bathroom," Aizawa blurted out, his hand instantly covering his mouth as another flash of nausea overcame him, and he scrambled into the next room, shoving Ma out of the way and leaving Ken to his pizza as he desperately searched for a toilet. He was going to get sick, his body couldn't handle the overload anymore, and Aizawa eventually tripped into a surprisingly spacious bathroom, his legs collapsing beneath him as he threw up into the clear porcelain bowl, but nothing came because there was nothing in his stomach to lose. He had already rid himself of everything in the alley, and all that remained was the sickening sensation of what he had done and what he could not be forgiven for.
He had shot someone, some young, innocent boy who still had the rest of his life to live out. He had nearly murdered someone and had caused too many people pain. Even worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.
HE DIDN'T KNOW WHY!
Aizawa collapsed on the cool tiles of the floor, his hands shaking even as he reached into the pocket of the jacket around him, desperate to find something to wipe his mouth on. His fingers brushed over an object buried within the depths of the clothing, and he withdrew it, comprehending with some intellect that it was a piece of faded paper. Aizawa brought it to his lips, too frail to look for anything else, and he almost spit into it, riding himself of the vile taste on his tongue, until curved and loopy handwriting decorating it caught his attention. Weakly, he unfolded it, his vision focusing for a fleeting moment on the letters and numbers before he completely crumpled onto the bathroom floor, cradling the fragment of memory against his chest.
"Give me another," Aizawa slurred at the man standing behind the counter, running the tap. Although he was the only one, there were a few other people wandering in from outside, and Aizawa only sensed the beginning of his sorrow. ASK was going to hell, thanks to a bunch of high school-aged brats who were stealing his fame, and there was nothing he could do to ease the pain except drink. He'd been here since he'd convinced Ma to cut their practice hours early. The bartender glanced sympathetically at him.
"Perhaps you shouldn't-"
"Just give it to me!" he yelled, slapping his hand on the hard top, ignoring the sting shooting up his wrist. The guy only blinked at him and shakily tipped the liquor bottle over the rim of Aizawa's shot glass, filling it to the rim. "Arigato." He nursed drink with the same efficiency he had the others. An out-of-place laugh suddenly startled him, almost making him spill the alcohol on the floor.
"Konnichi wa, sensei-sama!" a familiar voice cried happily, a thin body settling itself comfortably next to him. Aizawa couldn't have cared less who it was and continued to sip the cool liquor, closing his eyes to savor what little taste was left to it.
"Oi, Sakuma-san! Same as usual?"
"Hai!" There was an exchange of money and a glass slipping across the counter, and then, Aizawa blinked, turning his head to the side. Though his vision was partially distorted from intoxication, he could easily make out greenish-brown hair brushed neatly over a smooth face greedily swallowing something obviously non-alcoholic. Aizawa could sense the enlightened smell of apples radiating from him, and he wrinkled his nose.
"Sakuma-san, eh?" he asked, staring at the bottom of his glass. "How nice." Blue eyes blinked at him.
"Who are you, Na No?" Aizawa couldn't help the grin, he had no idea why, and that had been the beginning. They'd talked for hours in that small bar, and when Ryuichi had offered to give him his number, he could not resist. "In case you get lost, No Da," he murmured, sliding the paper secretively into his hand with a bewitching smile. "You can never be too safe." Aizawa pulled Ryuichi to him, ignoring the stupid look on the bartender's face, and he cupped his chin, their noses brushing.
"What makes you think I'll get lost?" Ryuichi snickered.
"I just have a feeling." And, he kissed him, his mouth soft and pliant against his own.
Aizawa licked his lips, faintly tasting the apple juice on his breath from that time, and the salt melted onto his tongue, the tears hot on his cheeks as reality burned into his heart.
He cried.
TBC-
A/N: Well, I know there are a few things I should mention, but I'm not going to because, let's face it, I'm REALLY lazy. LOL. I know everyone's probably wondering where I came up with the stuff I've written about, and the answer is: I'm not really sure. I'm motivated by weird, outlandish things. Heh, anyway, the last part about Aizawa being in the bar was completely spur of the moment, and I figure that Ryuichi isn't much of a drinker (unless he's angry or whatnot) so I decided to have the bartender keep stocks of apple juice for our beloved singer. ^_^ Ah, well…I'm finished rambling. I hope everyone enjoyed the seventh chapter, and I won't take so long updating next time. Leave me a nice long review and email me if you want someone to talk to. I love talking!! ^.^
A lot of appreciation and gratitude goes out to all of my wonderful reviewers. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have the courage to post anymore, but I'm glad everyone likes this. It's weird, I know, but hang tight, and I promise not to disappoint in the future. ^_^
One GIANT thanks, bundle of kisses and hugs, and years of worshipping all go to my beloved friend and beta reader, Pat San! If she didn't catch all of my mistakes, I'd probably scream in insanity and destroy all that I have of my fic. LOL. (If no one caught that, it was a joke.) Anyway, please pay her tribute and read her story, War of Hearts! I'm sure you'll fall in love with her seductive blonde player as much as I have…so much in fact that I am on the verge of finishing something I've written specially for my beta in appreciation of her wonderful talents! I hope everyone will check it out as soon as I post it. You want a teaser? Okay, I won't deny…I'm such a push-over!
"What the HELL do you WANT?!" Eiri growled, flinging the door open hard enough to crack the opposite wall waiting innocuously behind it to slow its ascent in speed. Amused eyes of liquid kiwi stared mischievously at him, lengthened strands of shimmering blonde falling over a smooth forehead and two slightly arched, finely shaped eyebrows.
"How are you this morning, Eiri-kun?" Hatori asked, ignoring the fact that the author was on the verge of ramming his smiling face into the half-broken doorknob of his abused front door. "I'm well. Thanks for asking. May I come in?" Without an answer, Hatori walked into the hallway that preceded the living room, brushing by Eiri with nothing more than rude politeness before slipping off the gym shoes he was wearing. It was then that the novelist realized that Hatori was dressed in a pair of loose jeans that clung to his hips -instead of the classier slacks he chose to wear- and a loose t-shirt with the kanji for 'wild and reckless' painted across its front in bold, bright characters replaced the normally monotonous blazer he had adopted to live in. Eiri shook his head and carefully closed the abused door, a tug-o-war already taking place inside his head. Why did he suddenly care what Hatori wore? Eiri had to remind himself that he hated this man.
Ah, well, that was a little much for a teaser. Tehe…I hope it's interesting enough to draw some readers. Anyway, this will definitely be dedicated to Pat San when it's finished. I'm just an advertiser and like to throw things at people. *showers reviewers with candy* See? LOL. I'm all out of words! PLEASE REVIEW!!
Okay…so I have to throw a teaser in for the next chapter of The Opposite of Gravity. Heh:
The writer leaned against the wall, fingers itching to light one of the cigarettes in his pocket, but rules were rules, and Eiri didn't want to get thrown out before retrieving his lover. He could imagine the look on Shuichi's face when he showed up, almost concerned enough to care that his best friend had been hurt, and the thought was almost worth the trip. The pink-haired ball of energy was undeniably kawaii, though he was too feminine for his own good, and it was everything about him that made that allure which drew so many to him. Somewhere within him, Eiri was proud to say he had claimed the singer for his own, and just the very image of Shuichi lying wantonly in his arms sent his hormones into overdrive. Eiri knew it wasn't all about sex, not that he didn't like it, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.
Note to self: I am evil. *grin*