Written with little regard for the manga storyline. Takes place in the Anime right after Shuichi is hauled out of the airport. Could possibly be seen as AU, if you're really meticulous about detail. The song used is "Mary" by Fisher. I thought it was fitting.
Mary
by: Ikkun
Rated: T for minor adult themes
"You still have an obligation to your fans."
K's words rang in Shuichi's head. It was the only thing stopping him from hopping on an airplane headed to the states. It was also the only thing stopping him from flinging himself over the balcony and landing several stories below.
Yuki would probably scold him. Call him a brat and make him clean up the blood that made the apartment structure look like a crime scene. He'd pull out a cigarette and light it with that silver lighter he carried in his pocket all the time. Just before he had disappeared, Shuichi noticed a flash of color on the side of the lighter, but dismissed it as a reflection. When doing laundry one day, he came across aforementioned lighter and saw the sticker photo that they had taken together at Odaiba Amusement Park. How long ago that seemed. Shuichi could still smell the salty air, could feel the stiff fabric of Yuki's coat against his face, could taste tobacco and tears when Yuki's lips met his.
Even if he were able to search for Yuki, where would he start? Mika hinted that he might be somewhere in New York, but even then it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Shuichi sighed and tapped his pencil rhythmically against the polished surface of the kitchen table.
"I have to go find Yuki! He could be anywhere! He could be hurt!" Shuichi screamed.
Everybody in the airport turned to stare. He could hear them whispering to each other, mutters of concern, of amusement, of mockery. He couldn't bring himself to care. K pulled off his sunglasses and wiped them methodically with the corner of his shirt.
"We will not discuss this here. Come back to NG with me and we'll talk," K said calmly. This scared Shuichi more than if K had whipped machineguns out of his pants to threaten him with.
"Make me," he sniffled anyways.
He had. Shuichi rubbed at the bruise on his arm, wincing at the though of how K hoisted him over one shoulder and carried the kicking singer out of the terminal. Shuichi scribbled some lyrics on a sheet of paper, then crumpled it up and threw it in the direction of the wastebasket. He missed, and it landed amongst a pile of other paper wads, a soda can, and an empty box of cigarettes. Shuichi eyed the box and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He walked over and sat cross-legged in front of it. Slender fingers traced the label, then picked it up. Careful not to crush the box, Shuichi pulled back the lid and inhaled, hoping to catch the scent of tobacco that used to permeate Yuki's being. A sob caught in Shuichi's throat, his chest tightened, and his eyes screwed shut. He hauled himself back to the kitchen table and reached for the pen. His fingers knocked the pen and sent it skittering to the floor. He left it there, and picked up a second pen.
Shuichi scribbled furiously with tears streaming down his face. The tears made several of the words bleed onto each other, but Shuichi didn't care. He kept on writing until he cried himself to sleep on the kitchen table.
Though K had only seen the boy several days ago, he was thoroughly shocked at the way Shuichi looked the next morning. Dark circles were etched under his eyes, his hair was matted in some places and sticking up in other, and traces of stubble marred his usually smooth chin. K had never seen Shuichi looking so wretched.
"Good morning," he said with a thick American accent. His false cheer did nothing for Shuichi, who just plodded into the bathroom. 'Hopefully to take a shower,' the American thought. He glanced around. Despite the pile of crumpled sheets of notebook paper in a corner, the apartment was otherwise untouched. The sheaf of papers on the table caught his attention, so he picked up a few sheets with writing on them. Several were just doodles of Yuki's face, others were brainstorm lists, but only one sheet seemed to have a set of lyrics. K left the rest of the papers and brought the single sheet with him to the couch.
I woke up and Mary was still gone
Thought if I stopped hurting she would come back
To me
Walk right through the door and say, ""Ah-Hah!
I was only joking, didn't you look silly crying"
But I wake up and Mary is still gone
I looked at the clock and it was still
Lying on the floor exactly where I threw it
Both hands smashed against its silver face
My feeble attempt to stop time but time goes on
And I wake up and Mary is still gone
Mary was it necessary
To leave before the party
I know it's selfish to say
You always brought the cake now
What will I eat with all these tears?
I looked at the list and saw her name
Kick myself, she never got an invitation
Kid myself, I'm sure somehow she knew
My stupid attempt to find
Some way to move on
But I wake up and Mary is still gone
Mary is still gone
K was shocked. Despite Shuichi's clumsy attempt to use a different name, the song was still obviously about Yuki. Had he given up searching? He thought Shuichi would fight kicking and screaming until the bitter end. Defeat did not suit the young singer. K heard the water in the bathroom turn off. He flicked on the TV and placed the sheet of lyrics where he had found them. As soon as he sat down and pretended to turn his attention to the impressive entertainment system, Shuichi walked back in with a towel around his shoulders. He absently used one corner to rub his damp head.
"I'll be ready in a few minutes. I just gotta get dressed," He mumbled. K nodded. Shuichi padded into the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later. His jeans were wrinkled and his shirt was inside out, but K didn't have the heart to point it out.
Shuichi showed everybody his lyrics at the studio later in the day. He had a vague composition in his head that he scribbled down for Fujisaki. He had wanted the piece entirely with a piano accompaniment, so Hiro sat in the mixing room with K.
"How is he?" Hiro asked into his Styrofoam cup.
K grunted.
"I don't know. He tries to act fine, but it's killing him from inside. I'm under strict orders to keep him in Japan, but I don't know if I can. I don't even know if I want to."
"You know, Shuichi probably isn't lying when he says he can't live without Yuki," Hiro replied.
"Yeah, I know," K replied. He sighed, and finished off his coffee. He crumpled the flimsy cup in his hand and launched it at the wastebasket. It hit the rim and landed uselessly next to it. K thought of all the crumpled sheets of paper he saw this morning, of the tear-stained lyrics, and of Shuichi's hollow expression. He collapsed into the chair. What was he going to do?
In the studio, Fujisaki showed Shuichi the final piano arrangement. Shuichi nodded in agreement.
"Would you like to try it a few times?" Fujisaki asked cautiously. Instead of answering, Shuichi just picked up the mic. The technicians barely had time to hit the Record button before Fujisaki started to play. And Shuichi started to sing.
A haunting melody drifted from Shuichi's lips. His voice was laced with so much hurt, so much pain that K felt all his resolution begin to crumble. Tears made their way down Shuichi's cheek. His eyes, already red and swollen from so much crying, were heartbreaking. The technicians stared wide-eyed in shock, frozen in their seats. As soon as Fujisaki hit the last note, Shuichi crumpled to the floor and started to sob. The technicians scrambled to hit the switch off as K stormed into the room.
"Get up, Shuichi," He ordered sternly. Shuichi looked up at him, confused. "Grab your bag, I'm taking you to the airport. Judy always leaves a private jet for my personal use. Now hurry, before I change my mind or Touma finds out. Go to the parking garage. I'll be down in a second."
Shuichi nodded once before fleeing the room. K looked up to find Hiro, but saw Touma standing behind the glass instead.
"How long have you been standing there?" K asked.
"About halfway through his song. I'm surprised a man like you didn't notice me standing right behind you."
"I was distracted," K replied stiffly, "Are you going to stop us?"
There was a long pause.
"No, I don't think I will," Touma replied placidly. He left, trying to keep his head held high, but defeat was definite in his posture.
K watched the retreating body leave before picking up his cell phone.
"Hello? This is K. I need a favor."
finis
A/N: K may be a little OOC for this, but even the big burly American man has emotions, no? Reviews are love, so sex me up. You can also e-mail me at
