This is like the most depressing chapter yet. I was so depressed writing this! Oh, it was so sad, I couldn't read the last sectionone final time beforeI submitted it. So sad! Hope everyone is in character!
Chapter Seven
Night was falling over N-G productions. Absolutely exhausted, Tohma stared, disgusted, at a pathetic-looking band submittal for several minutes before tossing it into the trash. How in the world has this band gotten as far as his desk? Smiling cheerily at the distraught young man before him, he said sincerely, "Your band isn't N-G material. "New Kids" is not an original or satisfactory band name. Your lyrics are a bunch of drivel. In addition, I cannot accept a band with substandard fashion sense. Come back if you find where you dropped your talent." Tohma's smile widened. "Thanks so much for coming in today. I really enjoyed our time together. Please take pleasure in our complimentary guide service. Now, if you will excuse me. Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to."
While the rejected artist wandered out of Tohma's office, dazed, Tohma pressed the "hold" button on his phone. "Seguchi speaking."
"Tohma?" Mika's concerned voice struck his guilty ears. "Tohma—"
Tohma's hand tightened slightly on the phone. "I'm sorry," he said hastily, "I've just been so busy lately. I—"
"Tohma, Eiri's not answering his phone. I thought it might just be me, but I called with my new cell phone number and he still didn't pick up. I'm worried—he hasn't picked up all day, and yesterday he said he would be home."
A sharp intake of breathe. "All day?" Tohma asked, voice tinged with sudden fear.
"All day. Are you too busy? Should I go over?"
"No, I'll go. I'll go right now." Tohma set down the phone and stood up rather abruptly. He grasped his briefcase and hurried out, abandoning two hours of unfinished work on his desk. Nittle Grasper's multiple albums flew past him. A fluttering panic whirling inside of him, he found himself outwardly calm, fierce and controlled. He headed towards Mr. Sakano's office, but never made it there.
"Mr. President?" The very man met him at the elevator, looking disheveled and put off. "You're going home early?"
"Yes." Tohma told him amiably, "I have personal matters to attend to." Seeing his admirers concerned features, he held his hand out in gentle protest. "Oh, don't worry, The interviews are over for today. I will be back early tomorrow morning to finish up."
Mr. Sakano nodded hurriedly. "Yes, yes, yes. I understand."
"Good. I shall leave then. Please lock up the top floor for me tonight." Tohma stepped into the elevator and smiled reassuringly until the door hid him from view.
Tohma's kind smile crashed. Eiri…oh God Eiri…please be alright or I don't know what I'll do… This wasn't a first occurrence; it wasn't like Eiri had never answered his phone before. But every time it happened, Tohma's thoughts automatically turned to the worst. Sometimes when he would lie in bed at night, he would imagine gruesome scenes of death and destruction from inside Eiri's bathroom. Eiri would be slumped on the floor in his mind, wrists slashed, sunk in his own pooled blood. Tohma was so far removed from Eiri's true feelings and life that he didn't even know if his fear was justified, but it was always there. Constantly alive, eating away at his mind. In Tohma's scenario he would always arrive too late. Just too late. Always too late. He tried to block the horrid images from his mind, tried to force them into the same dark chamber where his discovery of Eiri's attempted rape lay, but they would never stay where they would supposed to stay. Why, why couldn't his brain be as organized as it seemed inside the TV? Why couldn't he really be the mythical Tohma Seguchi from behind the magic screen? Where was the perfect, rich life that his perfect twin lived so extravagantly? Too late. Too late. Too late for sixteen-year-old Eiri. Too late. Always too late.
Tohma clomped hurriedly into Eiri's apartment, not bothering to knock. Nearly racing into the kitchen, Tohma's eyes widened in horror and his heart exploded.
Scattered all over the table were traces of Shuichi: the pink pullover Tohma had tried to discard, the printshop photo, the thermometer, a Nittle Grasper album with "Ryuichi is a God!" scrawled on it, a messy note in Shuichi's handwriting, and finally an empty box of strawberry pocky. But Tohma's eyes only briefly scanned this carnage, instead fixing on Eiri's huddled figure seated in his usual chair.
Tears flowed down Eiri's face, and both of Eiri's nearly white hands were twisted almost painfully into his disorganized hair. He hadn't realized Tohma's presence, and his breathe was coming out short and gasping. His shoulder's shaking, Eiri's horrid pants almost seemed to be caused by a physical wound. Untangling his one hand, he led a shaking finger towards Shuichi's face and passed it over the grinning features halfheartedly before dropping his arm to the table.
"Eiri!" Tohma's own pained voice frightened him, "E-Eiri!" Stunned brain blanking of any rational thought, he rushed to Eiri crying, "Eiri! Oh Eiri, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It's my fault! It's my fault! Oh God Eiri, it's my fault! Eiri! Eiri!"
A crazed, violent look in his eyes, Eiri shot up and whirled on Tohma threateningly, tears flying from his face. "What the hell are you doing here! What the hell! Have you ever heard of knocking before walking into someone's apartment!" For a second, Eiri grasped his chest and stared at the floor, breathing hoarse, then his hands flew out towards his chair.
Tohma could only stumble backwards in shock before hard wooden legs struck him on the head and stomach. Crashing to the floor, momentarily stunned, he stared in terror as an enraged Eiri loomed over him.
"Get out!" Eiri roared as Tohma tried to push the chair off of him, "Get out, dammit! Fuck you! Fuck you!" When Tohma failed to move fast enough for Eiri's liking, Eiri's foot flew out struck Tohma harshly in the chest. "You-get-out!" He gasped, reeling backwards suddenly. "A-ahh…" Pressing his palm hard against his forehead, Eiri gazed uncomprehendingly at Tohma's trembling form.
"Eiri, I'm sorry!" Tohma pleaded sincerely and desperately, clutching his hand to his sharply throbbing abdomen and shielding himself with his other hand. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I was just…trying…to…help you…"
"I…" Eiri's eyes widened in comprehension. "Seguchi? Seguchi?" Eiri fell to the floor on his knees, wheezing. "I-I'm sorry…I…I…you know…never wanted…lose control…again…sorry…" Reaching out a shaking hand, Eiri clutched Tohma's shoulder with force enough that Tohma felt nails digging deep into his skin. "So…sorry…but…don't…feel good…chest…hurts…" Water overflowed his eyes and crawled down his already wet face.
"Eiri!" Tohma sobbed, panic filling his entire body with a strange stiff sensation as Eiri's head dropped to his chest. Limp hand falling from Tohma's shoulder and striking the floor, Eiri crumpled into Tohma's shocked arms. "Eiri!" Tohma whimpered, hands tightening around his beloved. "Eiri!" Tohma stared at the limp, pathetic form for at least a minute before stumbling backwards away from it. Blindly making his hurried way through the apartment, he tripped over an unfamiliar box and fell into its depths. Kicking himself away from a tousled mess of what was clearly Shuichi's clothing, he finally reached the phone. For an unexplainable reason, the phone seemed to be some type of beacon, a strange type of light. Clammy hand almost dropping Eiri's salvation, Tohma hurriedly dialed emergency.
That was really angsty. There are only three more chapters after this, and there might be an epilogue. I'm not sure about the epilogue yet. I'll have to see when I get there. Amazing, this story is going so fast!
