AN: Thanks to Kinomi for beta reading, and to readers for their continued support.

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Collateral 4

Pururururu… Yuki's eyes opened from a dreamless sleep to the sound of the telephone.

Dread crawled across his skin. He knew who was calling from the start, but the afterwarmth of orgasm weighted his limbs like stone. His head was still cradled on Shuichi's chest, too comfortable to lift. He lay still until the answering machine picked up.

"Eiri-san?" Tohma's voice was strained with distress. "Are you there?"

Yuki sat upright as if jerked by strings, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and rose to his feet. He grabbed his black kimono-style robe from its hook behind the door and swirled it around his shoulders.

"If you're there, please pick up." Even as a recording, Tohma's voice resonated with authority and concern. He gave an anxious sigh. "Are you home yet?"

Under his breath, Yuki muttered curses and half-formed prayers that Tohma wouldn't say something incriminating while Shuichi could hear. In a flurry of flapping black cloth, he reached for the phone, and grabbed the receiver without lifting it to his ear.

"Ei--!" Tohma's voice of ecstatic relief burst briefly from the mouthpiece before Yuki dropped the phone back in its cradle, hanging up.

He deleted the message without replaying it, picked up the phone again, and left it off the hook. Tohma could call all night if he wanted, but he would only get a busy signal.

"Yuki?" a voice called softly from behind. Yuki turned to see Shuichi leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom. His hair was tousled and worry shadowed his eyes. In that moment, he looked very young.

Guilt slithered into the pit of Yuki's gut. A strange feeling of unworthiness made it difficult to gaze back into those innocent eyes.

"It's nothing," Yuki said. "Let's go to bed." He draped his arm across Shuichi's shoulders and Shuichi rested his head against Yuki's side as they walked.

They crawled under the covers together and Yuki spooned Shuichi close, curving around his lover's body possessively like a dragon coiled around treasure. Yuki held Shuichi close against his chest until their breathing eased into the slow pace of sleep.

'''''''''''''''''''

The next morning, Shuichi left at the usual time and Yuki went to his study to write. He booted up his laptop and tried to read the latest half-written page of his manuscript, but his eyes stared past the screen in a daze.

The words he wanted to write did not come. He lit a cigarette and unbidden memories flooded over him instead.

Yesterday had been such a spectacular disaster he knew Tohma wouldn't dare a second try. His brother-in-law would harass him mercilessly for a chance to apologize, and Yuki would use his usual tact of ignoring him. Eventually, the incident would bury itself, a shaky unspoken understanding of "never again," and life would resume as before—a shitty facsimile of normality. Yuki didn't want to think of it any further. Dwelling on feelings of violation would only beckon that blood-spattered phantom, Kitazawa. ("Did you miss me, Eiri-kun"?)

The phone rang shrilly, knocking Yuki back into reality and he jerked upright in his chair. The cigarette clamped between Yuki's first two fingers had dissolved into a column of ash all the way to the filter.

Didn't I just light this thing a second ago?

He unplugged the phone before the answering machine could pick up. Shuichi must have put the phone back on the hook before leaving. Yuki left his cell phone on in case Shuichi called, but after the fifteenth call from an unlisted number, he turned that off as well.

He felt like a prisoner in his own apartment. Tohma lurked someplace unknown but never more than a breath away. He was most likely set on apologizing, oblivious to the fact that Yuki only wanted to be left alone, to forget.

Even with the phones off, writing was impossible. Yuki tried reading a novel to pass the time, but the words slurred into meaningless sludge on the page. After reading the same sentence six times and still not registering any of it, he threw down his book and reading glasses in disgust.

Yuki took some crabmeat from the fridge, put it on a saucer, and padded barefoot onto the back patio. He set the plate down and clicked his tongue quietly, calling for the neighborhood cat. She never showed, perhaps on feline principle to never come when called.

Yuki gave up and went back inside. He glanced at the clock, but it was still hours before Shuichi came home. In the end, he burned away his afternoon watching the mindless daytime television shows he despised.

Late in the day, there was a polite knock on the door. "Don't you have anything better to do? Leave me the fuck alone," Yuki muttered under his breath.

He was tempted to repeat this message to Tohma on the other side of the door, but decided the best response was silence. He pulled a blanket over his head. The polite tapping repeated, but no voice called out, then there was silence. Maybe it was just a salesman after all.

Yuki must have fallen asleep because the sound of keys in the door woke him. He tensed until he heard Shuichi's voice coming from the doorway.

"Yuki!" he called brightly, "You got something."

Yuki rose to his feet groggily and slumped to the door to see what the kid was talking about.

"From a fan?" Shuichi suggested.

On the doorstep stood a vase full of so many white roses it looked more like a bush than a bouquet. It must have been a florist at the door earlier. A white card was placed with care under the red ribbon looped around the neck of the vase. The front read "Eiri" in familiar handwriting.

"Just leave it," Yuki said, turning away. He headed for the kitchen.

"Are you kidding?" Shuichi said, "This must have cost a fortune!" Heaving an exaggerated grunt under its weight, Shuichi picked up the over-sized vase. He carried it inside and followed Yuki into the kitchen.

"How come you get flowers from your fans and I just get creepy letters?" Shuichi said teasingly. He set the vase down on the counter and fluffed the roses with his fingers, admiring them.

Yuki slipped the envelope from under the ribbon and flicked his eyes across the card inside.

"I'm so sorry you're sick," it read. The words of apology were subtly emphasized. "Please feel better. I'm worried about you." Tohma's full name was signed below in elegant calligraphy. Beneath that, Tohma's cell phone number was printed neatly.

"Yuki… Are you okay?"

Yuki startled at the sound of Shuichi's voice. The kid had snuck up beside him and now glanced over his side at the card. "O-of course I am," Yuki said peevishly.

The look in Shuichi's eyes said that he was worried that Yuki's health was worse than he let on. Or maybe he was suspicious of Yuki's false excuse about being at the hospital the day before. Maybe he hadn't read the card at all.

Yuki looked at the dozens of white roses where Shuichi had lovingly placed them in a patch of sunlight--pristine white buds with rotten cores. Was it his imagination or did they have a foul smell about them?

"These need a bigger vase," Yuki commented sardonically. He gathered the roses in his hands, lifted the cropped and dripping stems from out of the water and dumped them without ceremony into the kitchen trash.

"Yuki!" Shuichi sounded shocked, almost offended. He fixed his lips in a stern line of disapproval. "What's the matter with you? He's just trying to be nice."

Yuki looked into Shuichi's fiery eyes with his own cold and unreadable expression. 'If only you knew,' he thought to himself. It was ironic for Shuichi of all people to defend Tohma. Wouldn't the kid be the first to tear Tohma to shreds if he knew what he had done?

Still, there was no sense telling Shuichi the truth. It was ugly, but it was over. To tell Shuichi now would only worry him. Besides, however misguided his concern, sticking up for others was part of who Shuichi was. Wasn't that one of the things Yuki quietly loved about him?

"I don't like being coddled," he said.

Shuichi sniffed primly, plucked one of the roses out from the trash, and put it in a coffee mug with water.

'''''''''''''''''''

A week later, Yuki's health was vastly improved with rest and medication. He continued to evade Tohma's attempts at contact, but the eighth day after Yuki received the roses, it was Shuichi who had wilted. He looked miserable as he trudged through the door coming home from the studio.

"Our January show got cancelled," he said joylessly. He threw himself onto the couch and lay there, lifeless as stone. "We were just the opening act, but it was at the Tokyo Dome, you know? That's huge." He sighed and draped an arm across his eyes. "I was really looking forward to it," he added in a small voice.

Yuki quirked an eyebrow in suspicion. "What happened?"

"He said… We're not ready yet," Shuichi said. He curled up on the couch, looking small and sad. The whole apartment was dimmer without Shuichi's light.

Yuki didn't need to ask who "he" was. The face he showed Shuichi remained coolly indifferent, but Yuki's fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles turned white and bloodless.

'''''''''''''''''''

"This is Seguchi." The voice on the other end of the phone was curt, professional.

"What's this about you canceling Bad Luck's opener?"

"Eiri-san! I'm glad you called!" Warm, delighted relief. "I was worried—"

"Well?"

Tohma gave a resigned sigh. "The headliner band is a big name and Bad Luck just isn't polished enough to—"

"Bullshit. You know they're good enough. This wasn't part of our deal."

Tohma's voice had the patient and maddeningly sympathetic tone of a counselor. "No offense, Eiri-san, but I'm afraid it was you who didn't hold up his end of the arrangement. You haven't returned my calls in over a week."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" After all that had happened, Yuki couldn't believe Tohma intended to continue with his blackmail plans.

"I'd really rather talk about this in person. Can we meet for coffee?"

"No."

"Hmm. Then I'm afraid there's nothing for us to discuss." Tohma's tone was one of condescending sympathy.

"……"

"Eiri-san?"

"Fine. Where?"

"How about the Blue Nile? Say, two o' clock?"

"Fine." Yuki hung up the phone in disgust.

'''''''''''''''''''

Yuki thought it might be difficult the next time he saw Tohma's face, but past emotional scar tissue had hardened him, insulating him to a state of wary detachment.

The Blue Nile was a ritzy coffee bar furnished with ultra-modern tables and chairs and appropriately lit by muted neon blue. Tohma looked at home in his surroundings as if his environment was an extension of himself. Yuki realized with bitterness how the man always managed to hold the home advantage wherever he went.

Tohma beckoned Yuki to a corner table, his expression revealing nothing more than its usual benign warmth. It was a public coffee bar, but there wasn't another soul to be seen, not even a barrista. Even so, it was reassuring to meet in a public place.

"Come sit," Tohma invited cheerfully.

Something about even the simplest of Tohma's commands made Yuki want to rebel, but what could he do—stand? He dropped heavily into the chair across from Tohma, sitting sideways on the seat with his back against the wall. He crossed his legs and pulled a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

"Do you plan on making a habit of using Shindou's career to threaten me?" Yuki asked bluntly.

Tohma flashed his trademark angel's smile. "You certainly don't mince words, Eiri-san," he said, "But I like that about you." He rested his chin on his interlaced fingers with a bemused look on his face. "And I was not threatening you; I simply had no other way to get your attention. You left me with few options."

"Well?" Yuki said stiffly. "I'm here like you asked. Are you going to give his goddamn show back?"

Tohma's expression sobered slightly. "That depends on you now, doesn't it?"

Yuki halted, about to light a cigarette that dangled from between his lips. "What?"

"I want to keep meeting with you. Like we discussed before."

"Are you kidding me?" Yuki burst, louder than he'd meant to. He grit his teeth and continued lower, "After what happened last time?" Or should I say, 'After what you did?'

Tohma's eyes went soft with sympathy. "I'm sorry I pushed you while you were sick. That was wrong of me."

It was a rare thing to hear Tohma admit a mistake, but Yuki barely noticed. "There's an understatement," he said tightly. "You'd stoop pretty low to get what you want."

"This isn't about me, Eiri-san," Tohma explained rationally, "It never was."

"Enlighten me."

Tohma shook his head. "As I've said from the start, I want you to move forward with your life, to bury the past and stop wasting yourself with frivolous distractions."

Yuki scowled to hear his relationship with Shuichi reduced to such trivial terms. "And you think you're helping by doing… that?"

Tohma met Yuki's challenge with a voice of hard authority. "By any means necessary."

"You have a sick concept of therapy," Yuki commented darkly.

"Was what I did so terrible?" Tohma demanded. Even though no one was in sight, he lowered his voice so none but the two of them could possibly hear. "A kiss and a light touch? After fucking a teenage boy and half the women in Tokyo you picked a strange time to be modest."

Yuki had no reply for that.

"And what is your idea of therapy and taking care of yourself?" Tohma continued. "Drinking and smoking yourself into an early grave? Nothing changes; nothing improves. You're suffocating."

Suffocation. There was a time that Yuki would have called that an apt description of his life, but that was before…

"Even if no one else does, I care about you too much to let you slip away like that," Tohma said. "I care about you," he said again.

Yuki chose his words carefully. "I… appreciate your concern," he said, "But I don't want it. I can take care of myself."

Tohma was silent a moment and then said softly, "And I can remove a loose cannon band like Bad Luck from the NG label."

The calm that was building in Yuki toppled. "Damn it, Tohma!" he snarled, "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be whole again." He sounded as though he sincerely believed his own words.

"Well, what you're doing now is only hurting me more."

Tohma unlaced his fingers. "Did you expect it to be easy? Painless? Maybe that's why you never move forward." His pale eyes grew dark with focus. "Sometimes you need to be broken down before you can be built up. This is not some minor wound that needs a bandage and a pat on the head. It's more like a spreading cancer that needs to be cut out."

Gruesome. Yuki knew they were all lies of course. Sweet-sounding words to cover dark intentions like perfume over the stench of a corpse. How could Tohma possibly believe any of this was helpful? It was blackmail for sex, nothing more, and Yuki resented the story of false compassion. Or could it be that Tohma was really so arrogant he believed his own words?

It didn't matter. All that mattered to Yuki was— "What do I have to do to make you keep Shindou with NG?"

"Just keep meeting with me. Don't shut me out. Keep an open mind when I try to help you."

Yuki said nothing. Fine. He would do the bare minimum to sate Tohma's demands, play along without his heart in it until Tohma got sick of his unresponsiveness and gave up. "And if I do, you'll give back the Tokyo Dome performance?"

Tohma smiled. "Gladly."

That should make the kid happy,Yuki thought to himself.

It surprised him how much relief he felt to know Shuichi's show was secure. Already, he could picture the joyful look on Shuichi's face when he heard the good news. Yuki didn't know why it mattered to him so much. Although he spoke little about it, Yuki knew how happy Shuichi made him, but that was mostly in the things the singer provided Yuki—feeling loved, a good fuck, company to share an otherwise barren apartment.

Through it all, he cared for Shuichi's passion more than his career. Why did getting the show back make Yuki so happy? Just thinking of the gleeful look on his lover's face made him want to smile, too. It was different from the feeling of giving a gift; it was directly sharing in Shuichi's joy. Where did that come from? Or perhaps this was the feeling called—?

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Tohma volunteered. His smile looked strained now as though he didn't care for Yuki's silence or the distant look in his eyes.

"No," Yuki said. "Thanks," he added as an afterthought.

"What about your health?" Tohma asked, "How are you feeling?"

There was no sense in lying. He couldn't play sick forever. "I'm fine."

No thanks to Tohma, his stress was getting worse, but the physical symptoms were gone with the aid of medication. Anyway, he couldn't wait any longer to return to his usual chemical vices. "The doctor says I should take it easy, but I can drink again and everything." He mentioned it freely. God knew a stiff drink would make his meetings with Tohma easier. He didn't want Tohma to begrudge him that much.

"I'm glad," Tohma said, "Let's go for drinks next time. I know a great place in Shinjuku called the Far Oasis. Say, tomorrow at eight?"

At least it was a bar, not a hotel; that didn't sound so bad. Yuki hadn't heard of the place, but it sounded like the sort of trendy watering hole Tohma frequented. He was annoyed that Tohma was still forcing their 'dates' to continue, but at least it sounded like Tohma was changing his tactics. Psychobabble and cocktails was better than prowling fingers any day.

Yuki shrugged. "Sure. But you're buying."

Distracted by thoughts of Shuichi's smile, he didn't notice the sly look of victory on Tohma's face.