Notes: Well over a year ago, I wrote the first chapter of this story and finished this chapter. Vows was never intended to be written as anything more than something to just entertain me, but when I found out what an amazing response the first chapter had, I choked. That's the only word for it. Though my original frame of mind had been 'I'm going to write this because I want to write it, I don't care if it's bad, it's still better than most of the crap out there,' I just got over-occupied with what other people might think if the second chapter wasn't up to snuff, and honestly I don't think it is. However, I'm finding myself at a transitional period right now-- and I thought to myself, I'd like to write Gravitation fanfiction again. I miss Yuki and Shuichi and all the rest. And I'd hate to leave something so unfinished. So I'm going to work on Vows again. Who cares if it's a little trashy? That's what I love about Gravitation; despite all its pulpiness it has a heart, and it keeps you reading. As long as I'm having fun doing it, where's the harm?

Vows

Chapter Two

Tohma sat at a blindingly white piano in the middle of a stage. The spotlight was hot, especially in his itchy suit and cummerbund, and he could feel drops of sweat collecting on his brow and crawling down his neck. How could he be sweating rivers when his mouth was so dry? For some reason he was wearing white gloves, and he wasn't sure why. He knew the audience was watching. He knew his father was in the wings mouthing things like, "Sit up straight! Smile, damn it! Prove to me you deserved those piano lessons!"

Just as he peeled the gloves off he realized that he was dreaming again. What had started out as a familiar memory now blurred into horror. His hands were stained with blood. Though he had dreamt this all before, he still felt that overwhelming revulsion that came every time. He ran off stage to wash away the blood, but he couldn't find a sink. He ran outside and found a river, but as much as he scrubbed, the blood would not leave his hands.

Five steps more and he'd be at Kitazawa Yuki's funeral. Even though he didn't want to go, his feet moved without his permission. Besides, it was his duty to show up and say a few words. Like a zombie, Tohma went through funeral with the grace and nobility that people had come to expect of him. He did not waver when he praised Kitazawa as a teacher, even though it was a lie. The worst part was when Kitazawa's mother, an American, hugged him afterwards. At the real funeral he pushed the woman away, but it in the dream she strong enough to steal the breath away from him.

"Thank you, Tohma, for coming. Thank you for everything you did for my son."

He wanted to stay something, apologize for the death of her son, apologize for killing him, or at least inform her she was choking him, but no noise made it past Tohma's lips.

"Thank you for giving him every opportunity. But I guess he made his decision a long time ago, running with that crowd, doing all those drugs. You gave him a ticket to the straight life, setting him up with work while he went to school and he just threw it all away."

The world was starting to go gray. All Tohma could think about was the heaviness of guilt in his gut, he didn't even realize he was dying…

"Where is Eiri, by the way? I thought he'd come. He was always so fond of Yuki. Oh well, I suppose the grief is still too fresh for him. He didn't know the things that Yuki was involved with, did he? It must have come as such a shock when those drug dealers shot him."

But it wasn't Kitazawa's middle-aged mother choking him now. It was some one he regarded much more dearly. It was his wife, the woman with beautiful hair and cruel eyes and lips that had torn many men apart. She was choking him.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard! Look what you did to Eiri! Look what you did! I HATE YOU! I WISH I'D NEVER MARRIED YOU! YOU WORTHLESS, EVIL BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?"

Tohma was no longer sure if his had really happened or not. Those words were true; he remembered reeling at the shock of hearing indecent language from some one who considered herself far too well bred to use it. But had she ever wrapped those beautifully soft hands around his throat? Did those perfectly manicured nails ever grip so painfully into the nape of his neck? "I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Mika…"

"SHUT UP!"

Tohma put his hands on Mika's wrists. "Harder."

"Tohma…" Now her eyes were scared.

"HARDER, BITCH!"

Tohma woke up gasping for breath, caught in a moment of black silence where he couldn't force his lungs to fill with the air he needed. He was sweating. He glanced at the clock. Eight o'clock. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, he realized he was in his apartment in New York City. Why was that again? Work, of course. It was always work; there was no other reason. Nittle Grasper was doing a talk show circuit to promote their new album. They were a going to photo shoots and interviews for American magazines. Nittle Grasper was making a gamble and releasing their album in Japanese in order to make it to shelves before Bad Luck's debut. So far everything was going very well, although it grated on him how often Nittle Grasper was called 'classic' or something else implying they might be out of date. And if one more person asked him what Nittle Grasper meant…

He would smile and explain. Because he was Seguchi Tohma, and nothing ever made it past his friendly veneer of calm collectedness.

After showering and dressing, Tohma wandered into the kitchen to see what could be done about breakfast. He'd probably have to cook. Ryuichi and a stove often resulted in a stern call from the fire warden, and Noriko hated to cook, spoiled by her husband, the famous gourmet. Tohma poured some rice into the rice cooker and started frying some eggs. He noticed a pink bunny peering over the far edge of the counter. "Good morning, Tohma!" said 'Kumagoro' in his cute, reedy voice.

"Good morning, Kumagoro-kun. Want breakfast? I'm making omelets."

"I don't want omelets. I want Trix. Trix!" The toy rabbit bobbed and swayed, joyful at the prospect of colorful cereal.

"I don't think we have any, Kumagoro-kun."

"Trix! Trix! Trix!" Kumagoro gestured violently, as if going into a Trix withdrawal seizure.

"Noriko!" Noriko was always so much better when dealing with Ryuichi, so Tohma decided to call her over and let her deal with the Trix bunny. Plus, he wanted to know what she wanted to eat. Lately it had been hit-or-miss with her, between strange cravings and morning sickness.

"She's on the phone with her family," said Kumagoro, miming a telephone action. "Homesick, homesick. Aren't you homesick? Lonely, lonely. Why don't you call your family?"

"I don't have any calls to make," said Tohma cheerfully, breaking an egg into the pan.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" said Kumagoro. "You have a wife, I've seen her! I bet she cries 'cause she misses you, boo hoo." Kumagoro mimed tears. "Tohma-kun, neeee, Tohma-kun?"

Tohma was not looking at Kumagoro. He was intent on the omelet in front of him. He was wearing that impenetrable smile; smiling so hard his eyes squinted close.

Kumagoro slouched over, looking dejected, at least as much as a toy rabbit could. "Tohma's no fun."

---

Usami Ayaka stood on a balcony, overlooking the lights of a foreign city known as Los Angeles. Her pulse quickened as a gritty wind rustled her hair. She'd been to the United States more than once, but always under some pretense. It was hard to believe she was really here of her own accord. Obviously, she'd run away from her parents in Kyoto more than once, but it was never on a long-term plan to defy them. Now, here she was, sharing an apartment with her rock star boyfriend, with a whole ocean between her parents and she. Well, perhaps the ocean had already been there. She hadn't spoken much to her parents since she and Hiro got engaged. They didn't approve, and naturally, took every opportunity to tell her so. They threatened to denounce her as an heir, which, although shameful, would not put her out financially as Hiro's wife. Hiro was intelligent with his investments, and he could do more than take care of her. In fact, the only real reason her parents objected to him was the fact he wasn't from a rich, well-known family. Well, that and his long hair.

Ayaka sighed. Before she met Hiro, she would never have thought twice about the elitist behavior she'd grown up around. After all, people were born into certain places, and whether they liked it or not, they were expected to fulfill their duties. It was their destiny. As the heir of a famous hotel conglomerate, she was expected to marry well so that her husband could learn the business. She needed some one with a good business attitude, some one who had been brought up in that world of velvet curtains and crystal chandeliers. The intelligent, levelheaded Uesugi boy named Eiri was thought to be a perfect match, not to mention how advantageous the joining of their two great Kyoto families would be.

She'd met Eiri once or twice when they were children. Eiri wasn't interested in much more than books. In truth, she spent more time playing with young, vivacious Tatsuha, or playing dolls and dress-up with Mika. Then he went away to school, and all but disappeared. Even when he came back and started making a name for himself in romance novels, he never called her. After years of this neglect and nothing more than hollow, placating remarks from the Uesugi family, she decided to take matters into her own hands…

Looking back at it, Ayaka couldn't believe how naïve and idiotic she'd been. Not that following her heart was bad, but to wander around and just expect to find Eiri's house… She didn't deserve to be so lucky. Here in Los Angeles, she heard sirens all the time. Sometimes she was sure she heard gunfire. Tokyo wasn't as tough a city as LA, but if Hiro and Shuichi hadn't shown up at just the right time, or if they had been some one more prone to minding their own business, she really would have been in trouble. How ironic it was that in her mind she cried for Eiri to save her as those thugs pushed her around, and yet instead she found her real hero.

Ayaka still wasn't sure when exactly she fell for the earnest young man known as Nakano Hiroshi, genius guitarist. With his easy laugh and frank honesty, he was a man that was easy to love. In fact, sometimes she wondered how she ever could have doubted anyone but him could have been her husband.

"And now, our special guest, famous for fueling the Asian Invasion, is Japan's very own Nittle Grasper!" Ayaka was pulled from her reverie by the sound of the television. She stepped into the hotel room, closing the glass door behind her. As she picked up the remote to turn the volume down, she heard the distinct click of the door unlocking. "Hiro!" she beamed.

Ayaka was greeted by the cheerful logo known to everyone as the Golden Arches. Her fiancé plopped it on the coffee table in front of her. "I gotcha a Big Mac, American-style."

Ayaka couldn't help but smile at Hiro. "Hiro, you're horrible, my diet's going right down the toilet!"

"So's mine," said Hiro cheerfully, unwrapping a Big Mac with relish and taking a huge, sloppy bite.

Ayaka crinkled her nose at Hiro. "You are such a boy."

"…Says the girl with special sauce running down her chin. Here, lemme get that!"

"Augh! Hiro, you pervert!"

"And you love it!"

"Euugh! Don't kiss me with hamburger still in your mouth!"

"I'll kiss you however I want!"

The tinny, saccharine notes of "My Heart Will Go On" filled the air, and the couple's roughhousing came to an abrupt halt.

"…Ayaka-chan, please tell me you don't still have that horrible song for your ring tone."

Ayaka blushed and looked sheepish. "…I do. I guess I'd better take the call." She stood up, searching around for her cell phone.

"Don't," said Hiro. "It's probably Mr. K or Sakano trying to get a hold of me since I turned off my phone two hours ago. I swear, those two don't even know the meaning of 'taking a night off,' even when it's their idea to have one."

"It would be rude not to pick up," said Ayaka reluctantly, picking up her cell phone by its cute Bad Luck cell phone strap. She glanced on the telephone, where Nittle Grasper smiled, posed, and plugged their new album. Ryuichi spoke English surprisingly well.

Hiro tugged on Ayaka. "I want you to myself tonight," he whimpered, giving the perfect puppy dog look.

"Well, okay," said Ayaka, not really putting up a fight. She turned off the phone without checking to see who called, then joined Hiro on the couch, tugging his face towards hers, fingers tangling in his well kept reddish-brown tresses.

"Hey, you're messing up my hair!"

"And you love it!"

On the television, Nittle Grasper played a song about doomed and forbidden love. As usual, their performance was breathtaking, but Ayaka and Hiro were far too distracted to notice.

---

Shuichi sat up in bed, sighing hopelessly, running a hand through his disheveled locks. The bedclothes curled around him, damp with sweat, as he glared over the details of a room he'd spent the night memorizing: the blinds that seemed to shut out none of the city light, the mocking ceiling fan and the claw-like shadow it cast, the reading glasses on the far bedside table, the closet door left slightly ajar. He was in his apartment in Los Angeles, the one he shared with Yuki. His boyfriend was not in bed with him, and Shuichi could see the mellow light from the kitchen peeking underneath the bedroom door. Shuichi crept out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen. He smiled at the sight of his lover sitting at the kitchen table, typing furiously on his laptop in his pajamas. "Don't you ever sleep, Yuki?" murmured Shuichi.

"Don't you?" Yuki shot back, with a soft sort of smirk on his face.

"Maybe if you'd come to bed with me," Shuichi whined.

"I have to finish this," said Yuki.

"You're on vacation! Your company gave you time off and you're officially on hiatus. It'll give your readers time to go back and reread their favorites of yours."

"I'm not going to sit around this apartment doing nothing while you work."

Shuichi approached Yuki from behind, looping his arms around his neck pressing his face into Yuki's shoulder. "I guess that makes sense, but working at," Shuichi took a cursory glance at the kitchen clock, "Three in the morning?"

"You're awake too," Yuki pointed out blandly.

"I can't sleep."

"Bad dreams?"

Shuichi fidgeted. "I haven't been able to sleep well since we got here. I think I'll do better once we start touring."

"Nothing's as good for rest as pure exhaustion," said Yuki. "You hungry?"

"A little. I guess."

"How do pancakes sound?" Yuki smiled only slightly, but it was an expression that Shuichi had come to love. He wasn't one for gifts and favors, his gruff demeanor put a lot of people off. But every once in awhile he showed a sweetness, especially when he wanted to give Shuichi something, even if it was just as fleeting as pancakes. There was a light in Yuki's heart that he preferred to keep buried, but at times like this, it shined through like a beacon in the dark.

Shuichi beamed. "Pancakes sound great."

Later, as they were quietly devouring their late-night pancakes, Yuki started a conversation for once in his life. "So… when do you think you'll be done recording?"

"Two weeks, unless Sakano gives himself a heart attack, then we'd have to make time for the funeral… or to visit him in the hospital, or whatever. Maple syrup!" Shuichi poured the sugary stuff all over his pancakes. He was still shocked at how cheap maple syrup was in the USA, and any excuse to use it made his eyes sparkle with childish delight.

Yuki couldn't help but feel a little relieved at Shuichi's goofiness. He was concerned that Shuichi wasn't sleeping well, but surely he couldn't be feeling too bad if he was just as easily entertained as ever. "I suppose there's still a lot of business to attend to after that, with the tour starting and all."

"Mmhmm!" Shuichi continued to consume his pancakes at a breakneck speed. He might have seemed distracted, but really he was listening to Yuki carefully. His boyfriend didn't often come out and say things directly. Yuki might think he as being clever and evasive, and that Shuichi was playing into his hand, but this was a game that Shuichi figured out long ago. All he really had to do was get the particulars out of Yuki, one detail at a time.

"Well, are you going to San Francisco?"

Shuichi was so excited that he forgot to be discreet. After all these years, that still happened a lot. "Why do you want to know? Are you rethinking what I said about getting married?"

Feeling cornered and embarrassed, Yuki immediately assumed a defensive position. "Why would I? The marriages have all been overturned anyway, it's not legal to do it there anymore."

Suddenly the pancakes didn't taste so good. They tasted lumpy and dry in his mouth, and Shuichi could barely choke them down. He had to take a long gulp of water from his glass before he could speak. "So… you really don't want to marry me, do you, Yuki?" His voice had taken on a wavering, dangerous quality that threatened tears. Shuichi's hair hid his eyes, and Yuki was afraid to touch him, brush away the hair and see the hurt in his gaze.

"Didn't we have this conversation a hundred times already? I love you, Shuichi. Why do you have to take the fact I don't want to sign a meaningless document as a sign that I don't? You know I love you. I just… don't see the point, when it means nothing to the rest of the world."

"Since when have you ever cared what the rest of the world thinks? It could be just for us!"

"What we have is already just for us, why do we need a piece of paper and a ceremony to validate it? That's playing by the rules of the world, like we we're not in love just because we're gay and can't be married." Yuki maintained his cold, bitter façade, while Shuichi threw himself into the fight like the passionate poet he was.

"That's not what this is about at all!" Shuichi practically shouted, standing and slamming his hands on the table.

"Then what is it? Are you that desperate to have sex in a wedding dress?"

Shuichi flushed, too angry to make a coherent argument. "Yuki Eiri," he said menacingly through his clenched teeth.

Just at that moment, the phone rang. Yuki picked it up and growled into the phone, "What?"

The voice on the other end was crackling and distant, but that didn't stop a certain arrogance from coming through. "Eiri. How did I know you'd still be awake?"

Yuki glared at the phone, turning away from Shuichi's accusatory stare. He recognized the voice, how could he not recognize his own sister? "This better be good."

"Look, before you get all pissed off, you're not even the first person I tried to call. I wanted to talk to Ayaka-chan but her cell phone's not on… I've tried to call her several times today."

More than a little displeased that Yuki was diverting his attentions, Shuichi demanded, "Who's that?"

Yuki grumbled, "It's my sister."

"What does she want?" Shuichi was honestly concerned. Mika was as nosy as older sisters got, but even she had better taste than to call at three in the morning, even if it was a different time in Japan.

"Let me find out." Yuki turned his attention back to the telephone. "Okay, you have five seconds to make your case with me."

"Do you have Tohma's new cell phone number?"

Yuki had wondered why Tohma had suddenly changed the number for his personal cell phone. As usual, Tohma kept in close contact with him, checking in on him every few days. It was odd that Mika would have lost it, she was as painstakingly organized as her husband. Something was definitely wrong with this picture. "You don't have it?"

"I think he's avoiding me, but I really need to talk to him." Mika was obviously agitated. Yuki was used to that, he was usually the source of the agitation. She rarely had complaints with Tohma, however.

"I'm not your errand boy," said Yuki simply. Unfortunately, the situation was not really that simple. Yuki didn't want to get involved, especially if it meant coming between his sister and his brother-in-law. On the other hand, he'd never thought Tohma would be so chicken as to not call his wife while he was away on a long business trip.

"What's wrong?" Shuichi pressed Yuki for answers, his concern (well, more like his curiosity) taking over his need to pout at his boyfriend.

"Nothing, just a lover's quarrel." Yuki attempted to shove the small crawling vocalist off his arm with little success. He said to the phone, "Mika, you're both adults, you can take care of yourselves. Next time you call me at three in the morning with something so inane, I'm not going to let you off so easily."

" I was stupid to think you'd help your own sister," Mika snapped. "Even now our family means nothing to you!" She slammed the phone down onto its cradle before Yuki had a chance to make further offensive remarks.

Tense with stress, Mika stared at the whiteness of her knuckles as they gripped the club of her telephone. Suddenly, a wave of nausea swept over her, and she bolted for the toilet, not bothering to shut the door of the washroom behind her before she became violently ill.

In her mind she ran over the conversation she had with Tohma the night before he left for New York a few weeks ago. They were eating dinner silently when Mika said, "I thought the other night was really nice, Tohma. We should do it more often. I feel like… I never get to be close to you anymore."

Tohma smiled at Mika in his cheerful, carefree-seeming manner. "It was nice, but Mika, you knew when we married that I would be very busy."

That smile was really starting to infuriate Mika. She'd come to understand the smile was a blast wall he hid behind. At one time she thought that she could be the one he didn't have to use it for, but clearly… "I know, but once or twice a year just isn't enough for me. And what about having children?"

Tohma noticeably stiffened at the mention of children, but he spoke as calmly as if he were dealing with an irate stockholder. "Many married couples in Japan are pleased with this arrangement, and besides, I thought we decided that we didn't want children."

"We'd only been married a year then! Father would really love to see a grandchild, and well, let's face it; Yuki and Tatsuha have no interest in becoming parents, which is probably a good thing. And I'm not going to be young forever…"

"What kind of life would you be bringing a child into, Mika? With me working all the time and you caught up in your family business? The child would have the best education that money could buy, the best toys, but would it be happy?"

"We could make adjustments. You've made enough money to retire for the next two thousand years. You could take a little break. We could make a child very happy, Tohma, we could be great parents."

"I don't want children," said Tohma firmly, yet without a single ounce of menace. Somehow, this just made Mika angry.

"Why did you even marry me? Don't you want to start a family? Don't you want a legacy?"

"My work is my legacy," said Tohma, clearing his plate from the table. "I married you because our parents wanted us to. When I married you, I did not agree to be your lover at your beck and call, or the father or your children, just your husband. I think our marriage is fine the way it is."

All Mika could do was stare blankly as Tohma washed off his dish and set it to dry in the sink. "Would you mind taking care of the dishes? I have some work to do."

"Tohma, don't you walk away from me! Tohma! Tohma!" But he was gone, and the memory faded into the sterile whiteness of tile and harsh lighting.

Mika poured herself a glass of water in the bathroom sink and sipped it, frowning at her pallid, greenish reflection. Her hair was slightly messy. As she leaned on the sink, her hand knocked something off the counter space. Gingerly, she bent down to pick it up. It was the pregnancy test she'd taken earlier today, the inspiration for the phone call that started this mess.

It read positive. She was pregnant.

Numbly, Mika flushed the toilet, and then turned off the light before going to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

To Be Continued. (sooner this time, I promise!)