Shooting Stars

Chapter Twelve: Afterglow


Author's notes: Omigod, it's the last "happy" chapter. But I have to say, it's so cute and sappy and fluffy most of the time that you may end up with cavities from reading it. Except the end which, if you're anything like me, will make you wince.

Oh, on a personal front, many of you know I'm leaving in a couple of weeks for school in Europe. Updates may be scarce for a while (I'm not sure if thirteen will be finished before I leave) but I swear this story will eventually be finished!

And on another note, I miss Ryuichi :sniffle:

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would let Tohma shoot Kitazawa first. He wouldn't have guilt over it.


The world was so quiet during a snowfall. Even New York, so brash and unashamedly loud, seemed to fall into a still hush as the blanket of snow spread over it. The only sound was his soft breathing where his head lay pillowed on my chest. He had fallen asleep with one of his hands holding mine, fingers loosely laced together. His breaths were deep and quiet, and I could halfway see his face where it wasn't covered by a curtain of golden hair. He was smiling softly in his sleep.

The light outside the window was a pale gray, which told me that dawn was coming. I had slept deeply and dreamlessly for a few hours, which had seemed to be enough to fuel me. I had awakened feeling a groundless panic, then I felt his weight curled against me and relaxed. That he was there when I woke was my personal miracle.

I let my free hand whisper over his hair, stroke lightly down his back. He was so thin, so delicate. I hadn't been quite prepared for that, for the utter fragility that he somehow, without reservation, had trusted to me. It was all just a little surreal, with him sleeping curled into me like an exhausted kitten, his heartbeat slow and regular against my side. Nothing had been quite real since the first flash of heat, it was still not quite real now, in this somehow heavy, soft warmth that seemed to saturate. I knew that in theory the heat had been on low all night, but here, under the weightless down comforter, with his hand still in mine and his breaths light against my chest, I was warm.

I stroked my hand down his back again, felt him stir, murmur something, tighten his grip on my hand, then relax. He was clearly on the brink of waking, so I stilled my hand so as to let him sleep. Even with that precaution, moments later his golden eyes blinked slowly open and he rested his chin on my chest to regard me. Though there was sleep in his eyes, it was quickly melting away to be replaced with awareness. "Morning," he said in his broken English, punctuating it with a yawn.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Morning," I replied just as casually, letting a small, satisfied smile drift to my lips. In its own way, this moment was just as amazing as some of what had occurred last night.

He linked his fingers more firmly with mine and smiled, then blew up, trying to get some of his messy bangs out of his eyes. It didn't really work, only served to make him look hopelessly adorable. Unable to help myself, I stretched to kiss him lightly on the nose. "I'm hungry," he told me in Japanese after he giggled at the gesture. "And I hurt."

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"Hmmmm," he said, pressing his face into my chest, muffling his voice. "I'm not."

He pressed a light kiss into my chest. I felt heat there, a heat that seemed to spread to envelop me again, until the light, teasing touches didn't seem quite enough. The kisses began meandering slowly downward. "Get up, or at least stop that," I told him, letting my head fall back and closing my eyes, still riding a delirious high. "You're in no shape-"

"Tohma," he said, stretching the vowels on my name and leaving off any honorific, "when are you going to stop thinking for me?" His voice was tinged with amusement, though I couldn't see his face where he had disappeared under the covers.

I was already floating, only halfway coherent. "Superior logic," I managed. "I yield..."

He only giggled again from somewhere under the comforter.


It was well past dawn by the time we had actually made it out of bed. I let him have the shower first, then spent fifteen minutes being beaten by the boiling spray. By the time I was out of the bathroom, I felt so limber and relaxed I could have crawled back to bed. Instead, I belted my robe and headed for the kitchen and the fascinating and unexpected smells of food coming down the hall.

It was the housekeeper's day off, which to me meant that I should be cooking, but Eiri-kun had beaten me to the stove, wrapping the housekeeper's ridiculous pink apron over his robe and stirring something in a frying pan, looking very focused. I couldn't help the clichéd gesture and walked up behind him, sliding my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his head. I regarded the frying pan; its contents actually looked like a fairly passable omelet.

"You cook?" I asked with a mild surprise. I had never seen him so much as try before.

"Mrs. Smith has been teaching me," he replied, still staring unblinkingly at the eggs. "I was bored and she seemed like she wouldn't mind company. Somehow she ended up making me help. Then I discovered I like it."

"That apron is certainly... colorful," I told him, not bothering to keep a straight face.

"Go make coffee and stop distracting me, or I'll burn your eggs," was his only reply. "On purpose," he added, when I didn't move fast enough to suit him.

Swallowing a laugh, I went to the coffee machine, still smiling. It was shaping up to be a perfect morning.

After breakfast (which was actually quite passable) I sighed in regret and went back to my bedroom to get ready for the day at the office. I would have to leave fairly early to compensate for the thick flakes of snow falling outside my window. I made a habit of never being late.

He came up behind me then, rested his cheek on my back as I was turning down the collar of a leopard print turtleneck. "Tohma." Just that, just my name, but it was enough to have me turn into him, let him settle into my arms, forget the clock for a little while.

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything's perfect," he said on a slight, contented sigh. "I'm happy."

I kissed the top of his head, marveling how absolutely natural it felt to wake up with him in the morning, to wake up with laughter, to watch him making almost-good eggs in a ridiculous apron. It felt like everything had fallen into place. "Perfect," I agreed. "You're so beautiful," I said, tipping his chin up and kissing his lips lightly. I let myself relax for one more moment before speaking again. "And I'm late for work. Now you're the one distracting me."

He still didn't let go. "Tohma," he said slowly, "you'll... stay with me, right? I feel so safe around you. Everything makes sense. So will you? Even though everything's so complicated?"

I felt love wash over me like a warm wave. "Here, everything's simple. But even if it gets complicated, I'll stay," I promised easily, never wondering what such a promise might cost me. "I'll be with you. Always."

"Always," he said contentedly. He tightened the embrace for a moment, then let me go and rewarded me with a sunny smile. "You're late for work."

I couldn't help smiling back. "I know," I told him, slipping into my jacket and throwing on a hat. "They'll survive."

That day I was late to work for the first time, but neither that nor anything else could bring me down.

No words of love were spoken that day, though it seemed they were implied. For me, it was still a concept far easier to stomach silently. For him... well, he gave his body, his innocence, and his blind, total trust. Whether he gave his heart, he didn't say.

I didn't ask.


Months passed, spring approached, and the new routine became so everyday I no longer thought about it. Work continued to be light compared to what I had been doing for years. I had plenty of time to compose now, sometimes even in the luxury of my home. I was seated at my piano many afternoons as the mild April sunlight washed over the room through the wide windows that looked out on the river. There were days that I was so busy playing that I didn't hear the door open and close, didn't notice footsteps until Eiri-kun slipped onto the piano bench next to me, content to lay his head on my shoulder, close his eyes, and listen. Those would always be some of my brightest memories of those days: the sunlight slanting across the expansive wood floor, the sound of the piano, his warmth against my side, nothing in my mind but my love for him and the music that it brought. Happy melodies, light ones, playful ones, the sort of thing I had rarely written before.

There were evenings, too, when we sat on the couch together, me with my lap full of documents, him with homework, both of us wearing reading glasses and content for the moment to say nothing, not needing to acknowledge the other's presence out loud.

Along with those mild days, those comforting evenings, came the nights, sometimes sweet and tender, sometimes full of flash and fire and mind-numbing passion. And with those nights came the mornings, soft and warm, lax muscles from hours of loving, warm heavy kisses, love games in the shower, shrieks and splashes, increasingly good breakfasts, smiles and casual touches, habitual good-bye kisses before each of us headed our way, content smiles, light steps, easy laughter...

I fell in love with him again then, moreso than before. It surprised me that however intense, insane, powerful the feeling, it only grew day by day. There was nothing static about it, it wasn't something I would ever grow used to. I had thought I would, but even after I had him, I only wanted him more. Every time I saw him, my pulse still raced. Every time he turned those gold eyes up at me, I warmth like a hug spreading through me. Every time he took my hand on those rare days off and dragged me to some museum or the hot new musical, it was like the first time, a new kind of first.

I loved him to the point of pain, and stopped thinking beyond the next day, letting the feeling carry me along.

I kept in contact with his family in Japan and my associates at Shinjin, but that was a world that seemed unimaginably far away now. Here, there was no need for sunglasses, limousines or bodyguards. I hadn't been on stage in months, and though I missed it, the anonymity balanced the longing.

"You sound content, like a sleepy cat," Noriko-san complained to me one morning when she caught me on the phone on my way in the door. "It's really unfair when I can barely get out of bed without the help of a forklift."

"But you're content, too," I told her with a carefree laugh, leaning against the wall for a minute, smiling at the pleasure hearing her cheerful voice brought me. "And I'm sure you can afford a forklift."

"It's not that bad, really," she admitted. "I like being pregnant. I'm going to miss her when she's born... and that sentence really did make sense before I said it." I could imagine her making a face at the phone. "I don't know what women complain about, really. About the only indignity I've suffered is a loss of balance, and I'll get it back. I'm going to do this a dozen more times, I swear. It's fun."

I winced. "The world may not survive thirteen miniature Noriko-san running around," I teased. "It would be Armageddon."

I actually heard the raspberry she blew at me. "I'd hit you, but you're too far away. When are you coming back, incidentally? Will you come when the baby's born?"

"When is she due?"

"Any day now," Noriko-san said cheerfully. "You should pack up and come wait with us. Ryu-chan's already moved into my apartment and refuses to leave. I would have put him on the phone, but he's been in bed for hours. I can't sleep again. Your insomnia is contagious, even over the telephone."

"Eiri-kun tends to agree with you. About my insomnia, I mean," I said, walking into the kitchen, waving a hello to Mrs. Smith who was busy with dinner, and rummaging one-handed in the refrigerator for a cold drink. I avoided the question about my return neatly, and she seemed willing to be distracted.

"How is he? Other than not sleeping?"

"Well," I told her cautiously, taking a sip of juice. For some reason I couldn't name, I kept my relationship with Eiri-kun secret from my closest friend. Perhaps it was because I felt Ryuichi-san shouldn't be told, or perhaps simply because I wanted to keep him greedily to myself. "He seems to be struggling with English a little, but he's enjoying his school. He has friends now. His father is content, too. This trip was a good thing for him."

"Tell him I say hello," she replied cheerfully. "And get a few days off, Tohma-kun. Get down here when my baby's born."

"I'll try," I told her. "The group I'm working with down here is about to have a CD release. It's a little tight." I grimaced. "I almost have to spoon-feed them music. The singer's really gifted, and the others play all right, but it doesn't seem like any of them have a speck of creativity. Their lyricist and I do everything. I'm sure not everyone out here is an imbecile, but getting these people on the charts is an uphill battle. And apparently that's how the music industry works out here. No one writes their own music."

"You must really hate that," she said sympathetically. "Letting someone else take your music."

"I'm leaving all of the best things for you two, don't you worry. No American band is going to steal our number one hits," I said with a laugh.

"Good." She giggled appreciatively, then yawned loudly. "I think I might actually be getting tired. May wonders never cease. I'm going to bed before my crazy brain changes its mind."

"You've always been crazy," I said as a parting shot. "Good night, Noriko-san."

"Come back for the baby," she told me again, her voice already heavy with sleep. "Make time. And try threatening your lazy artists with a gun. It's what K-kun would do." On that cheerful note, she hung up the phone.

I shook my head at the silent phone before setting it back on its charger and heading into my bedroom to change into something more comfortable, since Eiri-kun liked the heat in the house up so high. I had only managed to remove my shirt when I was literally pounced from the back, hands coming up my chest, a kiss punctuated with a quick bite that sent a shock through me landing on my neck. His eyes held suppressed laughter as I whirled around, half-lifted him off his feet, and kissed him thoroughly. When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard. "Hair-trigger sex drive," I teased him fondly.

He was still on his toes, his hands clutching my shoulders, as he let out the laugh and shook the hair out of his face. "I'm a teenager, so I'm entitled," he informed me. "And you don't mind." He released my shoulders and slid his hands experimentally up my back.

I laughed too. "Let me get dressed. Mrs. Smith is still here. We'll pick this up where we left off later." I contented myself with a light kiss at the pulse point just under his ear, then moved away to rifle through my closet as he bounced on the bed. "How was school?"

"Fine," he said. "I failed another English test, though."

I slipped into a loose tunic and regarded him with a mildly displeased expression. "Not what I want to hear," I told him dryly. "Not what your father will want to hear, either."

He wilted under the look I was giving him. "It's not my fault the teacher refuses to explain slowly," he muttered. "The school counselor suggested I get help outside of school, or I'll fail the class."

"I wish I had the time to do it," I said with a sigh, sitting down next to him. "But business is picking up, and I barely have enough time at home as it is. Besides, my hours are irregular at best."

His hand came to rest comfortably, familiarly on mine. I automatically turned my hand over, linked fingers. "I'll find a solution," I promised. "Maybe we'll get you a tutor, like I had when I was studying for entrance exams. I'll ask your school's administration."


From the very beginning, there was something about Kitazawa Yuki I didn't like. It was odd, because at first I couldn't put my finger on it. He was polite and jovial, with a biting sense of humor and excellent credentials. He was at the top of his class at New York University, studying education. He was willing to come to our home every day for two hours and help not only with English, but every other subject.

Eiri-kun took to him right away. Perhaps that was what I didn't like at first, since the man gave me no other reason to criticize him. He was prompt and efficient in his work without being boring, and a week after he had started coming, Eiri-kun's grades in all his subjects began to rise.

On top of his other merits, he soon offered to take Eiri-kun out into town when I was too busy, to visit tourist attractions, parks, museums, and so on. I should have been grateful that Eiri-kun had managed to make a friend, that his grades were improving, that he had something to occupy himself while I sold yet another worthless group of idiots calling themselves musicians to the less-than-discerning public.

But when I saw Eiri-kun seated at his desk, Kitazawa leaning over him, speaking instructions softly as the boy nodded and scribbled, I couldn't help a tug of dislike and distrust.

"He's very bright and catches on quickly," the tutor told me one afternoon as Eiri-kun was putting his books away. He smiled, his face friendly, open, honest. "He's a pleasure to teach."

"I'm sure he is," I said, trying to keep the groundless irritation out of my voice. All he was doing was complimenting Eiri-kun's learning skills. "I appreciate what you've managed to do for him."

"The pleasure is mine, believe me," Kitazawa replied promptly. "Eiri says you'll be leaving soon while your... friend in Japan has a baby? He wasn't too clear on the details, but he could stay with me while you go."

I felt something very near panic and dread. "No, I'm afraid those plans got canceled because I am needed too badly at work," I said, though I really had been planning to leave for a few days. "Thank you for your kind offer."

"Oh, anytime," he said with another of those open smiles, and patted my shoulder in that way Americans had of touching you even if you weren't close. It was hard not to flinch away. "He's a pleasure."

"Yes," I said. On that point we agreed.

After he left that day, Eiri watched me inquisitively for a few moments before walking over to the armchair where I was seated and perching on the arm. "You don't like Yuki-sensei, do you?" he asked, bewildered. "Why not?"

"What gave you that idea?" I asked, trying to relax the frown I knew I was wearing off of my face. "He's an excellent tutor."

"Yes, he's an excellent tutor," Eiri-kun agreed. "But you don't like him, for all of that. Why not?" I stayed quiet, and after a moment, Eiri-kun giggled and leaned in, compromising his already precarious perch, until we were nose to nose. "It couldn't be, by any chance, you're jealous?" I only glared as he began to giggle, lost his balance, and ended up plopping rather heavily into my lap. "That's it, isn't it?" he asked.

"Not funny," I grumbled, feeling foolish. "You're too friendly by half with him."

Eiri-kun only kept giggling. "It's just because he's more American than Japanese. They're all touchy-feely around here. He doesn't mean anything by it." I kept trying to erase my glare and he kept laughing harder. Finally he gave me a smacking kiss and curled into my lap comfortably. "Tohma, you need to worry less," he told me, settling his arms more comfortably around my neck. I pulled him closer, as if I could keep him from drifting away like that. "I'm yours," he said with a little sigh, snuggling further into my embrace. "No one else's. And you're mine. Don't worry."

How could I argue with something like that? It would have been petty and ridiculous. So I quietly put on a friendly front. I ignored the tugs of possessive jealously when Kitazawa's hands lingered in Eiri-kun's hair after ruffling it affectionately.

It's just because he's more American than Japanese.

I ignored how he patted Eiri-kun on the back when he solved an equation correctly, ignored the way they sat on the couch side by side bent over the same book.

He doesn't mean anything by it.

I ignored the adoring glances Eiri-kun turned up at him when he managed something particularly clever, ignored the shining gratitude and affection in those amazing golden eyes that was not aimed at me.

I'm yours. No one else's.

I ignored a lot of things I should have been watching, because he had told me to stop worrying. And I didn't notice when Kitazawa started looking at his pupil in a positively dangerous way, or when he made their weekend outings a weekly occurrence, taking Eiri-kun not only to educational sites, but to such frivolous places as the zoo, to see a play, or to shop. I made myself ignore it, because it would be too terrible to contemplate if the naïve Eiri-kun was wrong about his beloved tutor's intentions.

Don't worry.