I will wait for you
A/N: Yes, the fourth and supposedly concluding chapter for this little jig. But once again, in the end, you as the readers and fans and aquaintances and royals and pen-pals and whatever else I can associate you with, are given the option. So just read the ridiculously long A/N at the end, okay?
Disclaimer: Consider this an 'ECHO, Echo, echo. . .' from previous chapters. Not japanese still attending school = me not being the author. Woah, I just did math in a fic! Must education haunt me so?! Does it despise that much to not only fail, but stalk me as well?! Oh, the horror, the horror!
Oh, and I don't own 'The Rasmus', though I do own their first CD, which I got last year for my b-day! Yay!
Anyway, from Yuki's point somewhat this time. Ooh, scary, scary.
Chapter 4- Dead Night Prayers
I dumped you again
I don't understand
It's happened before
Can't take it no more
Six months after having returned, Shuichi was already sitting in front of Yuki's doorstep, pleading to come back into the house.
Once he had moved in with Yuki, he had found out that Yuika wasn't Yuki's daughter and had nearly fainted with the relief, but he still cried as Mika came to pick her up again. She had said Tatsuha would be watching her now, that her and Tohma still had some issues to clear.
Without having to worry about waking Yuika at night, Yuki had endlessly made Shuichi cry out in pleasure, making him plead, tremble, scream for more, for Yuki to have his way with him. He had been gentle, caring, caressing, had actually missed a deadline just to hold Shuichi close, which certainly wouldn't have happened under normal circumstances. Though he still had an edged tongue with words, the harshness in Yuki's voice had faded over the past years.
But now, they were back to the same routine of throwing Shuichi out after setting the kitchen on fire, again.
"I'm sorry, Yuki!" Shuichi sobbed, his hands aching from having continuously beaten his fists against the wooden door. "Please! I really didn't mean to!" It's true, he had only wanted to surprise Yuki with breakfast in bed, regretfully having mixed the white wine up with oil. Leaning his forehead against the cool solidity of the door, his face streaked with tears, Shuichi quietly cursed himself, hated himself for having been reduced to a wailing mop yet again.
He had learned to be strong without Yuki, yet here he was, sniveling and whimpering, begging and pleading to come back.
Yuki had firmly placed his back against the door, willing the boy to go away. The pounding had finally ceased much to his relief. Each knock tore him a little more on the inside, making his resolve to keep him away weaken more.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his head hanging down as he heard Shuichi crying before his doorstep yet again. "I'm so sorry."
Yuki had thanked fortune for an open opportunity to get Shuichi out of the house. He really didn't want to make him leave, but couldn't let him back inside. Not now, not ever again. He knew he had to protect what he loved.
And he loved was Shuichi.
These foolish games
Always end up in confusion
I'll take you back
Just to hurt you once again
Shuichi started walking towards Hiro's new apartment once he figured Yuki had probably gone up into his study to start writing again. It had begun to rain shortly after he passed through the gates, drenching him within moments as he stood under the open sky.
He had to continue at a slower pace, the running through the cold midwinter air easily burning his lungs, his wet face being cut with the invisible frozen blades in the wind, the chills making him gasp for air every few minutes. All he wore were some jeans and a POLO Sweatshirt. His hands were red and numb from the cold, but he managed to hold the doorbell down until Hiro finally answered after the fifth try.
"Hello?" his voice was horribly static, but it was unmistakably his.
"Hiro, please let me in." Shuichi felt like he would shiver himself to pieces if he stayed outside any longer, a slow burning sensation creeping up his neck.
"SHUICHI?!" Immediately the door was flung open and Hiro stood there in person, clothed in a muscle shirt and jeans. "What are you doing here?" he cried in disbelief, looking the drenched Shuichi up and down, his clothes clinging to him and his hands and face red and raw from the frigid weather. "Get in here! You'll catch your death!" Hiro moved aside, pulling Shuichi in by his sleeve.
"Hiro," Shuichi's vision was wavering as he struggled to ward off the darkness. "I-" His world swirled around him, collapsing on the doorstep as once he couldn't find the rope he could hold on to. It was gone.
"Shuichi. . . ?" Hiro's voice seemed so distant, as if it as well never truly existed. The fear and worry that clung to it faded into nothingness as well. It was the last sound he heard until he surrendered himself to the shadows, allowing the unnatural heat to flood through him, taking his breath away.
'Yuki. . .'
I died in my dreams
What's that supposed to mean?
Got lost in the fire
I died in my dreams
Reaching out for your hand
My fatal desire
A/N: He's dead I tell you, Dead!
Wouldn't you kill me if that were all? Continuing. . .
A sudden pang awoke Yuki from his sleep, fear and loneliness gripping him on the inside. Just as quickly, it faded away. Worry was his first emotion.
"Shu?" He looked around unsure, then remembered that he had kicked him out. He sighed, relief filling him only partially, but his other longed for the younger man. Yuki felt cold, his arms were empty without him, and it hurt. Every time he turned around, there was something to remind him of the punk. Officially, he really was a punk now, Yuki mused to himself, allowing a twitch on his lips to rise into a half-smile.
'Even so, it's better this way', he thought, even though the silence seemed to start weighing down around him. He was a bit of a danger to Shuichi at the moment, whenever he came close to him, kissed and stroked him, there was always a silent danger lurking near and he didn't want to expose him any longer.
As if on queue, an immediate coughing fit followed that little inclination as if to be acknowledged. His chest felt like a hole would burn through the front any moment. 'He can't come back', he silently prayed, something he never did before. 'Please', he whispered, 'don't let him come back.'
Without meaning to, he suddenly burst out in mirthless laughter when he realized. 'So, this is what a heart-ache feels like.'
'Yuki...'
It was the first and last thought that passed through his mind. Shuichi stirred slightly, a wet weight on in forehead. "Mhm?"
"So, you're finally awake." Hiro was sitting opposite him, setting down two cups steaming with green tea. "You had me worried back there, Shu-chan." He smiled, but that same carelessness didn't reach his eyes. "Three days out cold, and the only thing to prove you living was your above-average temperature."
Shuichi allowed his eyes to flutter until they adjusted to the light, though he was quite content just laying there, surrounded by delicious warmth.
Surrounding. Warmth. His warmth. "Yuki?" Shuichi shot up as if all seven hells were after him. He looked around, recognizing it all, but none was what he longed for, what he wanted to see.
"Yuki?" Hiro frowned as he sipped his tea, closing his eyes to hide his unrecognized frustration. "You were calling out to him," he admitted, still not looking into his eyes, "but he isn't around here. Isn't that where you came from?"
Shuichi's head throbbed with the effort to remember, his eyes watering. "I-"
"Damn it, Shuichi! Don't you think this hurts me as well?" Hiro shouted, his cup landing a little too hard on the table between them, spilling tea onto the polished wood. "You think I don't mind every time you come here, both eyes and nose dripping?" His pent-up frustration was let out now.
"Hiro?" he whispered, anxiety welling within him.
I failed you again
'cause I let you stay
I used to pretend
That I felt okay
"Hiro! No, please don't!"
"I'm sorry, Shuichi, but I have to do this."
"Please no!" he cried, grabbing Hiro by his shirt to stop him. "Please, I'm begging you!"
Hiro had stridden to the telephone, calling up Maiko for her to shower her own fury down upon Shuichi's head. (A/N: Ha! Fooled you all!) "Maiko's just as worried about you as I am", he said, punching the number in, hoping he remembered it correctly. "I promised her I would call the next time you showed up, anyway."
"But-but I-" Shuichi was at a loss for words, unprepared for what was actually happening instead of what he had expected. But the longer he stood there, watching Hiro argue back and forth with his little sister over the phone, an aching began to well inside his heart. As if he could feel Yuki's sudden pain.
Sneezing, he wasn't sure if it was because of his cold, or because someone was talking about him, not including those in front of him. But he knew he wanted to retreat back into Yuki's embrace, not caring how tender or how brutal his touch would be. He longed for him, just as much as the other did.
Gathering himself together, going against his best conscience, Shuichi stormed out of Hiro's apartment, ignoring the futile calls after him.
Slowly his ache turned to worry, and that worry turned to fear.
He needed to know Yuki was all right.
Just one big lie
Such a perfect illusion
I made you mine
Just to hurt you once again
The doorbell chimed endlessly.
"Shut up!" Yuki grumbled from the couch, having slept there after not making it quite back up the stairs. It had grown worse the doctor had said, talking about not having long now, that it was growing faster then what they had estimated it to grow. Yuki had fought with himself not to strangle the medic right then and there. He couldn't bear the image of Shuichi standing above him dressed in black, his face tear-streaked and eyes red, clutching a bouquet of white lilies.
Gathering what little restored strength he had, Yuki struggled to his feet and slowly dragged himself to the door.
'It had better not be Tohma', he thought bitterly, a strange thirst for his blood (A/N: as in murder!) implanted within him from somewhere. As he opened the door, Yuki regretted having not hoped it would be his brother-in-law who would come bother him.
"Yuki. . .?" Shuichi was shivering, though much to his relief it had stopped raining, a light snow descending around him.
Yuki didn't at first respond, just standing in the doorway and staring at him. Shuichi's cheeks were tinged a pale rose, his lips parted and slightly chapped, but the snow falling onto his contrasting hair made the white seem like a faint glow that surrounded his young lover.
I died in my dreams
What's that supposed to mean?
Got lost in the fire
Yuki rushed out into the cold, wearing little more than his own black pants and a muscle shirt, embracing the smaller man as if to crush his bones. "Baka," he whispered against his cheek, savoring the warmth that emitted from Shuichi's body, chasing his own frigid winter from his soul if not his body. 'You shouldn't have come back.'
"Yuki," Shuichi sighed in a content voice, his temperature lowering as he rested his head against Yuki's bare shoulder, entwining his fingers into the front of his shirt, reassuring himself that he wasn't some kind of teasing figment from his deepest wishes and longings. "Yuki, you're here." His eyes drifted closed as if to fall asleep.
'You're back', he thought miserably, 'you shouldn't have come back.' "I will always be here", he murmured, kissing Shuichi's forehead gently, his skin scorching Yuki's cold lips. "I won't have the strength to make you leave again," he warned, leaning against the wall and taking Shuichi down with him. "I won't let you leave again."
I died in my dreams
Reaching out for your hand
My fatal desire
Shuichi never heard what he said, never would hear what he had said. He had lost himself in Yuki's protective embrace, his hands never loosening their grip on the front of his shirt.
'Yuki. . .'
What is love if not unconditional. . .?
FIN???
A/N: Is this the end?! . . . Actually, it's really up to you guys. I mean, I could give you two optional endings, in which, regretfully, one or the other dies. Or else I can conclude this as the ending, in which Shuichi 'bum bum bum' is asleep. Hee! I bet you thought I was going to say 'dead', didn't you? Well, I actually did picture him dead, but somehow I have the feeling that would guarantee me an early grave, wouldn't you agree? And that last sentence really has no significant meaning, I just thought 'Hey! Groovy!' Not really, but whatever. Is this the end, or shall more weeping commence? That sounds mean. . . sorry! Didn't mean it that way! Wait, if this continues, then that means...NOOO!! I want to retire from this story, do you hear me?! I want to retire!
Tissue-boxes with hearts and bears imprints for all!
C.S.