a/n: This part is for all those of you who patiently (and not-so-patiently) waited for this while I got over some extreme writer's block. I thank you, as without your constant pokes, this would never have been continued. ^_^ Also, please forgive the formatting problems with this chapter: I'm attempting to resolve them, and once I have I will re-upload the file. Thanks!
Chapter Five: Tadaima! (and a few face plants)
Eiri tore through the halls in a daze, crashing into more than one student in his indifference. His mind was reeling from the meeting with the principal: /"Homosexual, Uesugi-san…concerned about some of the rumors I've been hearing..."/ Tanaka-sensei's voice was joined by others from the past, which shouted at him from inside his mind. Eiri's head pounded as the memories rather forgotten surged to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him.
/"What do you mean, you don't want a wife?! You're my son, and you're going to have sons, just like a man should!"/
/"Eiri-san, we'd like to talk to you about your classmate Daisuke…saw you two together in the art classroom…shameful behavior for a boy…don't you like girls?"/
/"…look, there he is…gorgeous…heard he's never even been on a date…what a waste…"/
/"wrong…disgraceful…you're my son! Be a man!"
He fought against the past until he found some quiet, retreating into the detached part of his mind which allowed him peace. When he took stock of where he was, he was realized he was leaning up against a row of lockers adjacent to the girl's lavatory. He looked around quickly and stood up straighter, causing the few students who were staring at him to dart their eyes away and move quickly past, exchanging eager whispers. Feeling still somewhat shaken, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, attempting to fully regain his momentarily lost composure.
He was still leaning against the lockers with one hand pressed to his forehead when his thoughts were interrupted by a slightly frantic voice: "Uesugi-sensei? Uesugi-sensei?" A hand roughly shaking him by the shoulder joined the voice. "Are you alright?"
"Uh..hai. I'm fine." Eiri shook his head a few times and looked up, his gaze locking with now-familiar wide purple eyes. "Shuichi…" He trailed off, swatting away the thin hand on his shoulder. "Er, Shindou-san, might I speak with you for a moment about your term essay?"
"Hai, sensei." Shuichi nodded his head quickly, dropping his arm and attempting to look casual. Inwardly, he was still shaken at the sight of the normally aloof older man holding his head in his hands, wavering from side to side.
Eiri leaned in slightly and lowered his voice, whispering, "Come over tonight. We need to talk."
The boy's eyes widened at Eiri's unexpected invitation. "To-tonight?" he sputtered, "I can't, my parents –"
"That never seemed to stop you before" came Eiri's matter-of-fact reply.
"I'm sorry, sensei…" Shuichi felt desperate; he wanted nothing more than to say yes, but considering that he had to talk to his parents about NG…
"When, then?" Eiri questioned, his tone irate.
"Umm…tomorrow?"
"Fine. Come in the evening. Alone." Eiri leaned back, put his hands in his pockets and continued on his way down the hall toward the teachers lounge. Shuichi watched his back until the older man turned a corner.
His nerves shot, Shuichi collapsed against the row of lockers and let out a loud sigh.
~~`~,~@
"Tadaima…" Shuichi weakly called, shutting the door to his parent's house behind him. So far, so good, he thought, as the sound of his homecoming hadn't brought his mother's wrath down on him within seconds, as expected. He quietly slipped off his sneakers and neatly placed them beside his mother's, hoping to at least win some goodwill through the small display of uncharacteristic tidiness.
Shuichi stuck his pink-haired head into the hall, quickly looking back and forth to determine if it was safe to advance to the kitchen for a quick snack. Hearing the clang of a pot lid break the silence, he nervously jumped back, and decided to make a break for the stairs instead. The stairs, which never seemed so inviting, were directly across from the front entrance, and the journey would be short and –hopefully—quiet. Taking a deep breath, he made his break.
Unfortunately, his mother must have been feeling overly industrious today in her cleaning, as the stairs–usually well-worn and dull—were polished to a high-gloss shine. As he hurled himself up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, Shuichi's socks slipped against the shiny wood, sending the boy into a spectacular face plant halfway up the stairwell.
"Shuichi?! Are you home?" His mother's voice called out, getting steadily louder as she advanced down the hall, "What on earth are you doing?" She asked, as she disapprovingly surveyed her son sitting on the steps, rubbing his head and sheepishly grinning. She sighed and shook her head, her voice hiding her amusement. "You better go wash up and come back down to have a snack. You're probably hungry, and we should talk before your father comes home. "
~~`~,~@
"I talked with Hiiroshi-kun's mother today," his mother began quietly, pausing to sip at her green tea, "I know you're lying about where you stayed this weekend."
Shuichi gulped down his milk and put his sandwich back on his plate, unsure of what to say next. His mother sitting him down at the kitchen table to talk to him without his father was, needless to say, unprecedented. What was more puzzling was that she didn't seem to be angry…well, not screeching-and-grounding-him angry. This was different, and almost scary. "Er…" He replied weakly, his chest tightening. He glanced around nervously, as if seeking an escape pod.
"I haven't told your father yet, because I honestly don't know what to say. You've betrayed every scrap of trust we've given you, Shuichi." She looked sad as she continued, "All we've ever wanted from you is to get through school, get a good job, and marry a nice girl, so that we might see this family continue. We've always worked hard, and only wanted the best for you. But at every turn you disobey us."
"I don't mean to disobey you! I just—"
"But you do, Shuichi. Whether you mean to or not." She interrupted, still speaking in that calm, disappointed voice. "And this has got to be the last time. We know how your grades are, but with extra tutoring, no more band, and some real work you can get into college. You can also try to be a bit more serious; you're going to dye your hair back, and stop all your daydreaming! You know very little about real life, and its going to hurt you unless you change." She paused, watching the impact of her words on Shuichi's face. He sat in shock, unprepared to deal with what was being said, and dreading doing what he knew he must.
"I guess you'll be wanting me to get a girlfriend, too." He said, anticipating her answer.
"Yes, of course! It's about time you started finding the girl you will settle down with. You father and I were married at 20, that's very soon for you. You know I know lots of women with nice daughters. We can have some dinners for their families this summer, before you go to college." She smiled, both surprised and pleased at Shuichi's apparent interest in forming a proper social life.
Shuichi looked down at his plate, seeing the chip he had put in the familiar dish when he was 10, smashing his knife into it during an impromptu dinnertime rhythm band. His father had been so angry, he'd not been allowed desert, but his mother had smiled, saying it was just a silly old plate. He'd always thought that, when the time came, he'd have his mother's support, but after this conversation, he knew that he'd have to accept that he would never be able to make his parents see who and what he was—not yet, anyway. Screwing up all the courage he had in him, he looked back into his mother's expectant face and said the hardest words he'd ever said:
"Mom, I love you. But I'm leaving. I'm sorry." At her confused expression, he pressed forward, "You and Dad don't know who I am, what I want. You don't see that I can't be the son you've always dreamed of. I'm sorry." He sat up, and walked past his mother to the stairs, where he carefully climbed the stairs up toward his bedroom. He sat down on the bed, looked around the room he had occupied since he was six years old and cried, wanting more than anything in the world to have Oliver to hold onto tight.
~~`~,~@
Eiri placed his briefcase on the couch and looked around his apartment which, for some unfathomable reason, seemed oddly large tonight. There were few signs of his hastily-departed houseguest, other than the blanket left strewn across the couch and the few pizza crumbs on the coffee table, but they were enough to give him an odd empty feeling which he neither could, nor cared to, explain. He flicked on the lights as he moved from the living room down the hall past the kitchen, and into his office, hoping that the light would chase some of the feeling away.
It didn't.
He sat down at his desk, and booted up the laptop, figuring that doing some more work on his writing would be what he needed to provide distraction. Unfortunately, all he seemed to be able to think of was what had happened at school today, and he cursed Shuichi for not coming over tonight so that he could straighten things out between them once and for all. He carried with him this sense of unease all day, heightened by the fact that the boy seemed to be under the impression that there was something "going on" between them—at least, that's what Eiri had read on his face, whenever the boy had cast a glance in his direction. No, the man reminded himself, clenching his teeth and balling his hands into fists, a kiss and a stupid song do not make a relationship. And neither do stupid scribblings. He angrily closed his laptop, pushed the chair back from the desk, and headed back to the kitchen.
His stomach growling, Eiri advanced on the fridge, suppressing an urge to grab a slice of leftover pizza. Then, considering that the choice was either pizza or leftover pancakes…after waging a small internal battle, the blond reached for the pancakes and a beer. Hell, the boy couldn't' be that bad a cook, could he? After choking down a few bites, Eiri realized that perhaps he wasn't meant to eat food at all, and settled on leaning up against the counter and chugging down the remaining six cans of beer in the fridge. On can number five he started to feel sufficiently numb and more than a little dizzy, so he headed over to the couch where he could, pathetically enough, pass out.
A sudden loud buzz rang in his ears and made him jump, sloshing beer all over his shirt. Cursing, he put the can down on the coffee table, and yanked the shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Feeling his anger rising, he staggered over to the intercom, and pressed the receiver button so hard that he heard the sound of cracking plastic beneath his fingers. "Who is it?" he managed, his speech slightly slurred.
"Umm…It's me," came the meek reply. "Tadaima?"
~~`~,~@
"NO! Absolutely not. You're going to take all this junk and go back to Mommy and Daddy's right now!" Eiri ran his hands through his hair in annoyance and paced around the living room, eyeing the large pile of stuff Shuichi had brought with him. "What in hell do you think this is? A hotel?!" In his raving, the man had not been as careful as one under the influence should have been, as his foot caught on a wayward t-shirt of Shuichi's. His already fragile hold on balance gone, the blond fell face first onto the wood floor.
Shuichi, who had been sitting on the couch glumly listening to Eiri rant, leapt to his feet and attempted to run to the man's aid. Attempted, as halfway there, he neglected the large pile of books/cd's/clothes between the sofa and Eiri's still form. With a small cry, Shuichi went sailing through the air, landing on Eiri's back with a small thud.
Rubbing the soreness out of his head for the second time that day, Shuichi clamored off Eiri's back and rolled the man over, checking for any serious injuries. He slapped the blond on his cheeks a few times hoping to illicit a response, when the man's mouth opened, letting out a waft of alcohol-laced breath.
"Ick…well, at least now I know why you were acting like you were…under normal circumstances there's no way you'd want me to go, is there?" the boy asked, shaking his head. He decided that at this stage, the best thing he could do would be to drag the man onto the couch and put a facecloth on his head, to keep the swelling down, and hopefully he would sleep it off.
After much lugging, Eiri was finally on the couch and Shuichi decided that the older man, despite having the physique of a stick, was far too heavy. Shuichi sat down on the floor next to the couch and examined the man's face, seeing the makings of a fine bruise on his forehead. Why, he wondered, did the man do this to himself? Why did he drink away whatever he was feeling? Why didn't he try to share it, instead? Looking around the apartment, and again noting its lack of photographs of family effects, he realized. There was no one for him to share his feelings with. Except…
Shuichi, pleased with his own brilliance, ran off to the office, and eyed the laptop sitting closed on the desk. Temptation seized hold of him as he realized that this was the chance he had been waiting for: an opportunity to learn more about what was going on inside the older man's head. He waged a small moral battle as competing impulses raced through his head:
/This is his private work. Just reading it would be wrong…wouldn't it?/
/But he didn't respect my private work…/
/That was different! I was doodling at it in class…he had some rights to punish me. This would be just plain snooping./
/But then…if it is so private, it wouldn't' have been left out here where anyone could stumble across it, right?/
/Right!/
Satisfied with his reasoning, Shuichi quietly grabbed the laptop and returned to the living room where he plunked down on the floor, cross-legged next to the sofa and the sleeping man. With the computer balanced on his left knee, he began to read.
~~`~,~@
At about 2 a.m., Eiri woke in a haze of confusion. He was on the couch, shirtless, and there was someone's head resting on his chest…someone who had pink hair…he groaned, remembering the course of the evening. Shuichi had shown up laden with what appeared to be every possession he had, shoving his way past Eiri and into his apartment, where Eiri had proceeded to make a jackass of himself raving and then tripping, knocking himself out because of a stupid t-shirt.
Unsure of what to do, Eiri gently lifted the boy's head off his chest and leaned it against the arm of the couch as he sat up and took careful stock of the situation. It was the middle of the night, and his student was here, and he was…he was reading his work?! Who did that brat think he was? Eiri reached down and grabbed the laptop, yanking it roughly out of the boy's hands, jolting Shuichi out of his sleep and eliciting a syrupy-sweet "Ohayou…"
Shutting the laptop, Eiri got to his feet and headed for the kitchen, where he began to clumsily get water started for tea. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.
~~`~,~@
"Perhaps you might want to explain to me, from the beginning, what you're doing here with all that junk?" Eiri calmly asked, standing by the counter and making his tea.
"I left home, Uesugi…sensei. I had to. And I didn't have anywhere else to go tonight." Shuichi replied, from his position on the couch. He surveyed the bland apartment, wondering why he felt more at home here after a few days than he had in the house where he had grown up. Of course, the place would need more color, that was for sure. A poster here, a nice throw pillow there…perhaps some photos of friends, family…a few plants…Shuichi continued to mentally redecorate, envisioning himself living here, eating dinner across the table from the most attractive person he'd ever met, surrounded by warmth, by love.
"I expect this isn't going to be a permanent arrangement?" Eiri asked, sarcasm in his voice.
"No, sir. I…I just wanted, I mean…you wanted to see me, and I thought…" Shuichi was suddenly feeling very small, his previous certainty that he would be welcome here now evaporated.
"You thought…?" Eiri pressed, now pouring himself a mug. After a slight moment's hesitation, he reached for a second mug, and poured. Seizing both cups, he walked over to the sofa, where he joined Shuichi and passed him the tea.
Grateful, Shuichi continued, trying to not blush at the sight of the shirtless older man sitting next to him. Eiri's proximity was bringing back memories of the weekend, and he had to work hard not to let himself get swept away remembering how the man tasted, how Eiri's hands felt running over Shuichi's body, and how those golden eyes had looked so deeply into his own.
"I, um…I thought that you would understand. That maybe I could stay here for a few days until I can get in touch with my friend Hiiro and he can make arrangements for us to move into an apartment together. I thought that after everything that happened on the weekend, you wouldn't mind." Shuichi quickly gulped down some tea, darting his eyes away from Eiri's now stoic expression.
Sensing the battle lost, Eiri changed tactics. "Why were you reading my work on my laptop? You had no right to it, you know." Pleased at the blush which colored the pink-haired boy's face, Eiri slightly smiled in spite of himself.
"I wanted to…I mean…I wanted to know more about you! You're so damned cut off, you know? You don't let anyone in, and I thought…well, I always put into my lyrics what I can't actually say to anyone."
"You're comparing my writing to your lyrics?" It came out colder than even Eiri intended, but Shuichi didn't seem to notice.
"The story we read in Japanese class…you wrote it." Shuichi stated, expecting either some sort of denial or gloating on the part of his teacher.
"Yes, I did." He replied, flatly.
"I liked it."
"Really."
"No, I, um…I more than liked it. I wish more than anything that I could write like you; that I could make people feel in my songs what you made me feel in your story." Shuichi braced himself for the comeback, but it didn't come. Instead, Eiri sipped down some more tea and eyed the boy thoughtfully, as if, for once, he was unsure of how to reply.
Feeling confident, Shuichi pressed on, "Eiri, why are you a teacher? Why do you do something you obviously hate when you have this much talent?"
"What would a kid like you know about talent?" Eiri asked, suddenly disturbed at where the conversation was heading.
"I know that what you have shouldn't be wasted!" Shuichi placed his mug down on the coffee table and turned so that he was sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing the older man, his voice insistent. "I know that what you have is something that someone like me will never have, and that you should be sharing it, not hiding it."
"Writing is not exactly the most financially stable career, Shindou. I am much better off pursuing something with long-term security; something that will enable me to marry and support a family." Eiri replied, in a dead voice.
"You sound like my father." Shuichi said, unaware of what impact those words would have.
Eiri gripped his mug tightly as his own father's voice rang in his ears, /You must always first think of your future family, son. You must do what is right for not only yourself, but for them. It will not do to waste yourself on a dream or a selfish whim. You must work hard, and then you will be rewarded with a loyal wife and sons of your own/ The reply which was never said mingled with his father's voice, closer to being voiced now than ever before: /I don't want a wife and children, you old fool! I want to live for myself, and I want to find the kind of love I want, not what you want for me!/
"Uesugi? Uesugi, are you all right?" Shuichi leaned over and grabbed the man by the arm. His blank stare looked up at Shuichi, and with a shake of his head he was back from whatever parts of his mind he had been lost in. Shuichi, disturbed at seeing Eiri in this condition twice in one day, wanted nothing more than to take the man in his arms and hold him, but knew that if he tried he would only be pushed away. Suddenly struck with an epiphany, he dared a further question. "Uesugi, you lived with your family and studied in Kyoto until this year, right? Are you teaching because they wanted you to? Like my family wants me to be a salaryman?"
"My father would never allow me to write…" Eiri began, in a low voice. "There's no honor in wasting time on dreams…" Eiri let out a long sigh and looked at the boy next to him. "Can you see that, Shindou? Can you see how one can be compelled to live a life which is less than satisfactory pursuing a dream which is not of one's own making?"
In that moment, Shuichi could see. He could see the tiredness on Eiri's beautiful face, he could see the weight of the responsibility he bore, the battle he fought inside to continue with a life not his own and suppress all the talent and ambition that he had. And beneath the harsh surface of the older man's persona, he could see the beauty that he doubted anyone else could see with such clarity. With this realization there was a type of tightness in his chest that Shuichi had never before felt, joined by queasiness in his stomach and an overwhelming ache.
Unsure of what he was doing, but only knowing that he had no choice in the matter, Shuichi reached out his hands and cupped Eiri's face. Half expecting Eiri to pull away, Shuichi pulled himself up so that he was kneeling on the couch, leaned down, and pressed his lips to the blond's forehead. At first he could feel Eiri stiffen underneath his hands, but then relax under the boy's touch. Shuichi slipped his arms down around Eiri's shoulders and pulled him into his chest, holding him tightly.
Eiri first impulse was to pull away from the unwanted embrace, but felt suddenly so tired that he lost the will to keep fighting against the concern Shuichi seemed insistent on having for him. Letting out a harsh breath, he leaned into Shuichi's chest, feeling the softness of the boy's hooded sweatshirt against his cheek and hearing the steady thud of his heart against his ear. He felt, just for that moment, at total peace.
Reason came crashing down around him as he extracted himself from Shuichi's thin arms, pushing him gently backward on the couch. Eiri get to his feet and crossed the room to the window, looking out over the lights of the city. His thoughts clearer than they had been in years, he turned to the boy on the sofa and spoke. "I had asked you here so that I could tell you that there could never be anything between us," he began, wondering why he felt such a heaviness inside at the words. "You seemed to think differently, and I wanted to stop it before it got out of control."
Shuichi felt as if he had been slapped across the cheek; he actually pressed his hand against the side of his face. "You know…you…you…" swallowing hard, he somehow found the words to keep going, "you could still be a writer. I read your stuff, it's really good; when I read it you actually made me feel like I knew what love was. If you used a pseudonym, your father wouldn't have to find out."
Eiri felt his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. "Did you not hear what I just said, Shindou?"
"Hmm...let me think…that's a good author's name…Jacques Dulac! Exotic, ne? Or how about something German, like Fritz Schwartz?" Shuichi had a teasing note in his voice, but it was obvious that his intention was serious.
"Baka" Eiri smiled, heading back to the couch.
"Well, what about just keeping Eiri? It's a good enough name, and it fits you. Hmm...family names, family names..."
"This is pointless," Eiri said, as he sat back down and crossed his arms.
Struck by inspiration, Shuichi screeched, "YUKI!"
Eiri flinched. "Nani?"
"Yuki! It was my Ojisan's name; he was my favorite person in the world." Shuichi thought of his mother's brother, the one family member who fostered his love of music. It was he who had taught Shuichi keyboards, and who had told him to never, ever, give up his dreams. Shuichi hadn't seen him since he'd died about ten years ago, but he remembered his constant encouragement, his easy laughter. He was the one member of his family who Shuichi knew would have understood his decision to leave school and home for his band.
"Why?" Eiri asked, somewhat warming up to the suggestion, but determined not to let Shuichi see it, "He put up with your whining?"
Batting away the insult, Shuichi continued, "That's it, it's settled! From now on, you're Yuki Eiri, the talented, sexy, up-and-coming author!"
"Iie..." Eiri shook his head, smile hidden. "You know, it's getting late…we'd better get to bed if we're going to make it to school in the morning." Pushing himself off the couch, Eiri scooped up his beer-soaked shirt and padded down the hall toward the bedroom. As he reached the door, he paused and asked over his shoulder, "Are you coming?"
~~`~,~@
Sunlight streaked in through the blinds, causing Eiri to squint. The first thing he saw was a teddy bear on the dresser across from his bed, the permanent smile stitched on in brown annoying him. He cringed as an impossibly genki voice called out from the kitchen, "Yuki! YUU-KI!! Wake up! It's time to work! Your bestseller won't write itself on that laptop!"
"Unn..." groaning, he rolled onto his back and sat up, taking stock of the situation. A lot of the night was a bit of a blur, but from the condition of the room it was fairly obvious what had transpired. The floor of the room was littered with clothes; the bedding a mess and the pillows strewn about. In sum, the normally tidy bedroom looked as though it had survived a small tropical storm. Only the teddy bear, with what looked like a note stuck under its arm, looked to have survived intact.
While Eiri continued to debate whether or not to get up, the source of the genki voice bounded into the room, "Rise and shine, sunshine!!!"
His head pounding, Eiri reached around for a weapon with which he could stop the cheery noise. Seizing the first available object, he hurled it in the direction of the door. The pillow landed harmlessly at Shuichi's feet, as the boy laughed. "If you don't get up, I'm coming in there after you!" After a moment of stillness from the bed, Shuichi leapt at the pile of blankets, landing atop the blond buried beneath.
~~`~,~@
About an hour later, as best Eiri could judge, he sloughed off the last remains of sleep and sat up, looking down at the pink head sleeping on the pillow beside him. The kid sure does snore, he thought, amused. Eiri took a moment to ponder what insanity had propelled him to invite his student into his bed last night, before hauling back the covers and getting up, slipping into a stray pair of pants. As he hauled a shirt on over his head, he spied the wall clock which read 9:05. Great. Being late was exactly what he needed, in light of what had happened in the principal's office yesterday.
Leaning over, he grabbed Shuichi by the shoulders and shook him. "Get dressed."
"Hn?" came the sleepy reply.
"Get up. We've got to get going, we're late." Eiri walked over to his closet and pulled out a jacket and tie.
Shuichi sat up quickly, remembering where he was. "Shimatta! School!" He leapt out of bed, thankfully already dressed in his uniform from when he had been up earlier. Shuichi, not usually an early riser, had awoken around sunrise, and laid in the bed watching the blond sleep for a long time, slowly tracing Eiri's facial features with his index finger and nuzzling into his shoulder, thankful the older man was a heavy sleeper. At about 7, he had gotten up, dressed, and made some breakfast, which it now looked like they wouldn't have the time to eat.
"Yes, school. Now UP." Eiri slid on his watch and straightened his tie. Pointing at the dresser, he said quietly, "Don't forget that."
A full blush rose to Shuichi's cheeks as he spied Oliver sitting atop Eiri's bureau. "I…I, um, left him here for you."
"I don't need him." Eiri walked out of the room toward the door, casting a look around the now messy apartment.
"But…everyone needs someone to hug, Yuki." Shuichi countered, following the blond.
"Don't call me that." Eiri said, unsure of how he felt this morning, but only wanting whatever had happened to be over, "You'd better run, or you'll miss all of first period." Eiri reached for his car keys and slipped on his shoes, saying sternly and with great certainty: "Shindou-san…this never happened. None of it. When I come home, I expect to find you, and all your possessions, including that ridiculous teddy bear, gone."
The door slammed shut on Shuichi, as the boy crumpled to the ground.