AN/Warnings: Gee, um, shounen-ai? Heh. Not much, just your basic Shuichi/Yuki with a twist. Set in basically the same universe, but neither Shuichi's or Yuki's jobs have come through to support them. Shuichi works at a bar, and Yuki's an alcoholic…So, neither have fangirls, neither is famous, and neither have enough money. You'll also have to bear with me, as they don't know each other well. A bit of one-sided crushing from Shuichi at the beginning, but I don't know if this is one-shot or if I'll follow this up. Slightly inspired from a Barry Manilow song, 'Mandy', it's one of my favorites, but I'd forgotten about it. Reminds me a bit of Yuki, really. I'm not sure if this is a OOC, but I tried. I just wrote most of it one night, polished it up and uploaded it. :P
I don't own Gravitation, it belongs to Maki Murakami, nor the song 'Mandy'. *bows*
Life Doesn't Rhyme
Shuichi sighed as he dried a glass. He looked up at the TV, where ASK, along with a few other groups, were on Quiz de Pon. They had just won, and were performing. Shuichi could have sworn he saw Tohma Seguchi on the set, but he could have been dreaming. It was a rerun of the show, obviously, since it was so late at night. Sleep never seemed to find him in this place, though.
Hiroshi Nakano, his best friend, leaned over Shuichi's shoulder, startling the pink-haired boy.
"Ah, Shu, you boyfriend's here." Shuichi laughed weakly, turning to the door where a tall blonde had stalked in. His familiar, harsh golden gaze found Shuichi, and he barked out orders for his drink. Something on the rocks. It didn't really matter, the blonde just wanted to drown everything anyway.
The bar Shuichi, Hiro and their other friend Suguru worked at wasn't totally obscure, but wasn't the most popular. It was their only choice, after two years of trying to get a record deal at NG. Besides, knowing you weren't alone in your loss, considering how many men and women came here solely to forget, was rather comforting.
Now, the blonde, Yuki Eiri, wasn't really Shuichi's boyfriend. Not in this reality, anyway. Shuichi slid Yuki his drink, nodding when the blonde murmured a thanks.
It was strange, though. The blonde always told what he wanted to Shuichi, never Hiro, Suguru or anyone else who was around at the time. He always came on Tuesdays, Saturdays and Fridays, the days Shuichi had the all-night shifts. It was mild fascination for both parties, perhaps more so for Shuichi.
Laughing at Suguru's friendly insult that he had fired at Hiro, Shuichi filled a few shots of some hard liquor, passing them to a group who had just sat down.
Knowingly let his gaze wander back to the blonde a few seats down, Shuichi watched as Yuki stared blankly into the bottom of the glass. For a split second, Yuki Eiri looked completely lost. When he caught Shuichi staring at him, the lost look froze into a glare. Shuichi jumped, laughing nervously.
Much to Yuki's annoyance, the pink-haired bartender's gaze had followed him when he had returned to his drink. Slamming the glass down, he caused the boy to jump again, nearly spilling whatever alcoholic concoction he had in his hands. Realizing he had been caught staring twice, the bartender blushed and bowed his head. He suddenly found the sink fascinating, and shuffled over to it, so his back was to the blonde.
He knew Yuki Eiri was a starving artist. A writer, though. The man hadn't been able to get enough recognition for any of his romance novels. Yuki Eiri was his pen name as well, his real name was Eiri Uesugi, or something like it. He didn't use it because he had killed someone, apparently. Shuichi preferred Yuki, though. It seemed to fit.
Don't tell anyone, but Shuichi had bought one or two of his books, and while he himself wasn't one for literature, they were good. Captivating even. It was strange to think of such a cold man writing such perfect words. It also felt good to know he had been able to contribute to the man's life, even if at least a little, since he did take his money from him almost every night. But how had he managed to get no response from them? He was sure any girl would have liked them…maybe he should show one to his sister. She loved that kind of stuff. Besides, he was a looker too. You didn't see many faired-haired people around. Girls love sensitive, good-looking guys. It's the type they all want to marry, isn't it?
Finally summoning up enough courage to turn around, he was met with Suguru's faint smile, Hiro's grin and…
Oh dear God. Yuki Eiri was staring at him. For a split second, it didn't look like his usual glare, but even if it hadn't been, it quickly turned into one. Shuichi sighed, and, cursing his own stubbornness, walked up to the blonde.
"Need a refill?" Shuichi motioned down to the empty glass. The writer nodded, and took a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. "Same thing?" Another nod. Rolling his eyes at the blonde's lack of speech, he was caught off guard when he began to talk.
"Shuichi, right?" Said boy coughed lightly as the blonde exhaled, smoke billowing.
"Yeah. Shuichi Shindou." Yuki nodded, as if he already knew. "Uh…you're a writer, right?" Shuichi was startled when the blonde's head snapped up, again fumbling with his drink. Something was out of place.
"How would you know?" This presented Shuichi with two choices. Tell the truth ("Well, you do tell me every time you get totally wasted. Did you know you were a poetic drunk? 'Oh, I'm a writer, you know? You're either famous, or a nobody. People either love your work, or think it's total garbage.' I didn't know you were so filled with angst, but I think I'm falling in love with you.") or to lie.
Lie it was, then.
"My sister…she likes your stuff." Yuki raised his eyebrows, deciding to let it rest. A blatant lie, but a good one none the less. His very few fans, they were girls. One day, they said. One day you'll release the biggest hit Japan's ever known. Then they'll be sorry.
Would they be? Maybe in his ideal world.
Letting the cigarette dangle in his mouth, he stared at his drink. Hearing the rustle of clothes, he looked up and watched as the cigarette was plucked right out of his mouth. Finding Shuichi with the cigarette between his fingers.
"You smoke?" Shuichi laughed once, short and curt, at this. Grinding the cigarette onto the nearest surface that wouldn't combust, he smirked.
"Hardly." Yuki rolled his eyes, reaching for another cigarette, only to find them whisked away from him as well. "You're going to rot your lungs."
When had he, Shuichi Shindou, gotten so flirty? Especially with another guy. He usually couldn't talk to girls like this. Wait a minute, he didn't talk to girls like this. Then again, Yuki wasn't a girl, was he?
It was the blonde's turn to laugh.
"So I've been told. Now, I'm dirt poor and have no life. I should be finding the quickest route to Hell as possible. Oh, thanks." He took the refilled glass, downing at least half of it in a gulp. "So, Mr. Shindou, how many disappointments can you tally up?"
Shuichi paused for effect, putting his elbow on the bar and resting his head in his hand in slightly deep thought.
"I'm failing in school, I'm broke, I have little to no life, and people aren't accepting souls as payment, so I can't get a record deal. I work at an obscure bar, and talk to an obscure writer. Beat that, pretty boy."
"Don't tell me I'm pretty, you wannabe pop star. Who do you think you are, Ryuichi Sakuma or something? But, simply to prove it…My father wants me to come home and be a monk, my brother's a pervert obsessed with lead singers, I have no love life, my editor bugs me about my work and deadlines even though no one knows who I am, I go to an obscure bar and I talk to a wannabe singer. Game, set, match." Yuki flicked the lighter on and then off. On, off, on, off.
When Shuichi's breath danced on his nose, Yuki looked up, almost bumping foreheads with the pink-haired boy.
…He hadn't realized they had gotten so close. Shuichi's eyes widened, but he didn't move back. To be honest, he didn't think he could.
From the other end of the bar, Hiro nudged Suguru, who raised both eyebrows, questioning the logic of the scene. Shuichi was lucky it was a relatively quiet night, or he would have been in trouble. Over excessive flirting with the customers wasn't usually appreciated.
"Yuki, I…" Shuichi fumbled for words, but neither advanced or retreated.
"Shut up." This was effectively followed with Shuichi's mouth being put out of service…or rather, to be used for different, much more interesting uses.
For example, kissing Yuki. Even though he tasted like alcohol and cigarettes and cheap cologne, Shuichi really didn't mind, since the fact that he was being kissed by near-complete stranger was a much more thought provoking subject.
The fact that the bar cut them off annoyed Yuki. He couldn't do much when a wall was in between him and the current object of his concentration. Then he realized this object, no matter how girly, was a guy.
Hello? One wake-up call for EIRI UESUGI! You're kissing a guy. Nuh-uh. You're supposed to back away now, not keep on kissing him. You like girls, remember? Hot girls. Dammit, stop kissing the cute freak! You are so wasted, it's not even funny. Ugh, no tongue! No, no, no, NO!
Deciding that his inner monologue was more annoying than it should be, Yuki broke away from the other, leaving the 'cute freak' wanting more, eyes glazed over and lips still parted.
Suguru's whistle was low and long, while Hiro watched with careful eyes the man who had become Shuichi's object of affection.
It had started out simply because he looked like an American, he looked different, not that Shuichi was considered 'normal'. When the blonde had been able to get himself drunk enough, he would spill his life story to Shuichi, probably because he had no one else to tell it to. Shuichi always listened. Yuki probably didn't remember any of it, but his 'friend' had managed to get him into a taxi and send him home almost every time, or at least gave him time to sober up.
Realizing he had probably just given this boy about five million false hopes, Yuki dug whatever he had left of his money out from his pockets, threw it onto the bar, and rose from his seat.
"Yuki…" It was barely even spoken. Yuki had turned around, preparing to leave. "You'll be back, right?" It was only Friday…both would be here tomorrow too, for another all-nighter. Shuichi had already started counting the money, and cleaning up after the blonde. He couldn't figure out why his hands wouldn't stop shaking, or why his heart was beating so fast, or why he felt so rattled up.
The blonde must have stolen the cigarettes back when he was kissing Shuichi, because he lit one, inhaling and then taking it away from his lips.
"I don't kiss and tell."
Of course, you idiot.
-------
AN: I'm bad at endings. *shoots ending*
Who likes poeticdrunk!Yuki? I do. :3 His (still partially straight) inner monologue was fun to right as well. Oh, don't you hate lost opportunities?
As I was typing the part where Yuki threw the money onto the bar, that scene from Moulin Rouge attacked my mind. "I've paid my whore!" XD
I thought this was nifty idea, but people are probably like 'OMGWTF are you on, you crazed fangirl?!'. Um…should I continue? *goes out onto the streets to beg for reviews*