Doubt Chapter 12: The One Unknown, a gravitation fanfic

CHAPTER 12

The One Unknown

Eiri scowled as he distractedly transferred a stack of neatly folded shirts from a box into his suitcase.

He glanced about his spacious bedroom, the second largest room of the apartment. It was nicely furbished and very comfortable. He almost didn't mind how he was sacrificing the master bedroom's spacious and luxurious features. Tatsuha had not questioned his actions, not mentioned anything when Eiri insisted on this room and in using the hall bathroom instead of the larger en-suite in the master room. The young monk had silently accepted his older brother's eccentricities.

Having outright purchased this rather large, four-room penthouse, Eiri felt he'd made a great investment. It was in a respectable and up-market location with great leisure amenities and even better security. He liked how big the place was since he usually, more often than not, spent his non-writing time wandering about his personal space. Best of all, this building had a little commercial section downstairs where he could dine, shop, or have his dry-cleaning done. Now, he would no longer be obliged to brave Tokyo traffic or crowds to run errands. It was furnished with minimalist pieces, all ordered from one of Tohma's artistic friends, Antonio Layug (1). The stylish, dark-finish furniture was made of various combinations of six materials: glass, wicker, bamboo, leather, paper and steel.

When he bought the place, he'd had the notion that buying a property would give him a sense of having a home, having something truly his and of regaining control. It also signified a new chapter in his life, of quitting his play boy ways for good. He'd quit before but he had only let go of it gradually, like a fading habit. That had been because Shuichi had taken up his time and demanded his attention. This time, and without the brat's prodding, he had made this conscious decision.

The 'moving on' bit worked, however the 'home' did not. Shuichi was his home, and that brat was not here filling in the gaps of the huge place as the boy had once done with his heart. He hoped the singer would do so again, and also fill this particular vacant space.

Hearing a loud thump, Eiri was drawn away from his musings.

"You'd better not have broken anything!" the writer yelled, leaving his repacking and moving out into the hall. Tatsuha was further down the hall on the left, in the master bedroom setting down an armful of boxes. The writer could see his brother's penmanship on the sides, spelling out, 'Shu'. Of the pile in Tatsuha's arms, the top-most box had toppled over onto the floor and, recognising it, Eiri stepped forward, growling, "Can't you be more careful?"

"There's probably nothing even in there," argued the monk, "It sounds empty!"

Snatching up the box, Eiri left Tatsuha to moving in the rest of Shuichi's belongings. He marched back into his room and shut the door behind himself. Setting the box down on his desk, Eiri carefully peeled back the tape and removed a long tissue- wrapped bundle. Carefully peeling the layers away, he pulled out eighteen stiff dried roses, now white with brown edges. They were the flowers from Shuichi's Valentine's Day bouquet to him, perfectly preserved. He slipped them into a tall, minimalist glass vase he'd earlier set on his bedside table and stepped back to admire the effect.

The flowers really had been from Shuichi after all. He still remembered how puzzled he had been that day, to receive such a familiar bouquet and without a card. But recently, after days of holding off, a quick call to Miho-san, the florist who handled all of his love's contracts, had confirmed his suspicions.

Eiri had been polite to the florist and even left his new address with the kindly old man, just in case. Miho-san was one person who counted on his side, who believed that he and Shuichi belonged together. He was not about to toss out an ally… never mind the man knew next to nothing about him or the truth. It was rather pathetic, clinging to a virtual stranger, but in a way he felt it was a connection to his former lover. He now gave the florist quite a bit of business, most recently sending flowers to his sister, his editor, and Aku's girlfriend, Kaoru.

And, no, it was not coincidence that every time he called to give Miho-san work, the man liked to tell him about Shuichi's calls and visits. Talks between them flowed easily on a mutually familiar topic, the old florist absently babbling while Eiri subtly prodded the man along.

Apparently, the pop star had been 'kissing up' to a few executives, producers and reporters. It seemed like the brat was building his own network out of that damn florist's shop! To hear the brat, the messy and disorganised lover he knew, was in touch with some of the most influential figures in his industry puzzled Eiri. He had not known how cleverly sincere the boy could be, making friends left, right and centre. Knowing Shuichi, he probably believed these people really were true friend material, ignoring the evident plastic expressions and fawning.

It made him envious. Jealous, even, that these unworthy people were receiving attention from Shuichi. He remembered how he used to take up all the kid's time, how the singer had spent so much time at home trying to get closer to him… and not out with other people. Miho-san didn't always remember the full details of everything that Shuichi had asked him to do, but the dictated script for the accompanying cards always included a 'thank you' for this and that. Interviews, meetings, and various other things, these obvious consumers of Shuichi's time annoyed Eiri to no end. Those people had a part of the pop star now that he had taken for granted.

Snarling to himself, he set aside packing for the tour to wander back into the master bedroom. Tatsuha was not around, probably off to fetch more boxes from the freight elevator.

Eiri glared at the big new bed in which no one was to sleep and his thoughts turned to fix on yesterday's NG press conference. He'd been far too aware of Shuichi sitting just along the table, keenly conscious that the boy would be hearing every word he uttered. Enduring that had really strained him, had really stressed him out. The pressure continued to mount as he became more and more aware that the tour book's official announcement marked his first move in accepting his own challenge. There would be no backing out now, and he was looking forward to his self-declared battle with a relish he had not felt in years.

This was what it all came down to, his plan finally being put into action. Although, the incident with Hiro had not gone very well.

Frowning, Eiri considered his own request of the guitarist. He knew he had been almost rudely brazen with such a plea, but really the worst the man could do to him was turn him down. There were just so many things he didn't know about Shuichi. Now this uphill climb would be doubly difficult without hearing how much and in what ways the boy had changed. Hiro was his key to the boy's past, the one who could fill him in on all the things he ought to already know. It didn't miss his attention that had he just listened to his lover in the first place, he would probably not be in this mess to begin with. Paying attention would have alerted him to things being wrong before they became full-fledged problems.

Whatever.

He needed to deal with it. He knew the tour would be when crunch time really began. Because if uncovering the past was difficult, it was nothing compared to the present and the future. He could hazard a pretty intelligent guess that as each day went by, Shuichi's love for him would be hardening into hatred. And yes, he knew that the boy still cared. The expression in his love's eyes that day at the Hotel Intercontinental was quite enough to go by.

He had already been to Tohma but the man would not budge, the only options left to Eiri were the band and his own sister. He needed to know because not knowing made him nervous. He could not afford to second guess himself now when he had such a goal ahead of him. He really had no choice but to aim for what he knew would be the best source, punches and insults be damned. He would need to put everything he learned to damn good use or he would not accomplish even half of what he was setting out to do.

Grumbling a little as he tore his glare away from the large king bed, he glanced about the sparsely furnished room and scowled. There was nothing in here from the old apartment except for Shuichi's things and even those were still boxed. His brother had packed them, as the writer had been unable to bring himself to do so. Yuki was determined the room remain empty save for those boxes, the new furniture, and the new sheets he had purchased for the new bed.

Just as a certain space in Eiri's heart was reserved for the little singer.

Sighing with relief, Shuichi nodded to K and settled back into his seat.

The Fukushima Concert hall dressing room was all his and his alone. He would be safe for a little longer. It was only the first day of the tour, the band having departed Tokyo only this morning, but Shuichi was dreading having to face Yuki. It would have to happen eventually, he realised that now, hopes of having his band mates run interference for the whole tour had evaporated soon after they'd arrived. Yuki was in the middle of everything, there was no way he could be avoided for a whole tour. Shuichi could settle for having this one day to himself, however, and tomorrow could wait. Besides, his two band mates derived a nasty sort of amused relish from keeping the novelist away. It was K who seemed to think the matter was as far from humorous as possible.

"You will have to face him sooner or later, you know," said the gunman, giving him that 'look' again, the one that said 'you are being unreasonable and you know it' look which Shuichi really disliked. "We have more important things to attend to and this is not helping smooth matters over." Shuichi waved his thanks as K, with a nod, disappeared out the door to leave him some time to prepare for tonight's concert.

The singer didn't want to be a bother, and knew he would just have to get used to Yuki being around or he would continue to be one. If he didn't, the tour would be made to be even more unpleasant that it was already bound to become. He didn't like to consider his feelings on the matter very much, they confused him. He preferred to keep things out of his mind and simply concentrate on what was before him, take things a day at a time and not think about the past.

Or the future.

It was just simpler that way, and didn't apply too much pressure around his heart. With a sigh, he realised that he needed to find a middle ground of some sort. He couldn't keep letting his mind wander back to the memories of catching Eiri in the bedroom of their home, seeing that mussed bed and red dress. Or keep letting his chest ache in remembrance of the pain. He wished he could forget, and his desire for control manifested itself in the strangest ways.

He never wore red anymore, for one. Sometimes, he even disliked looking at Tasuki's hair for the simple matter that it recalled the image of betrayal to his mind. It wasn't his friend's fault, it was just another bad memory trigger. Shuichi's mobile phone rang out, a thin tune of Rage Beat, and he pulled it off the dressing room desk. Glancing at the ID on the screen, he though, speak of the Devil…

"Hey, Taz!"

"Hey, Shuichi!" Tasuki greeted cheerfully, his tone light and easy as always. "How's it going?"

"In the dressing room, you caught me at a good time, though. " He smiled a little, feeling good now he could talk to someone who was not going to give him shit about whether or not he was avoiding his ex. "How was your show?"

"I think I ought to be asking you that, buddy," the dancer observed with a chuckle. "But all's good. Last night's crowd was great! We did our routine and got a great response. That one-handed manoeuvre you suggested really did wrap things up nicely…" Shuichi listened to his friend tell him about the performance.

Suzumiya Tasuki and his troop were participating in a series of club dance-off competitions, just for the fun of it, and had been talking about it for weeks. The series was an on-going 'Challenge the Winner' format over a nine-show run. It might have seemed petty or uninteresting, such a small-time gig, but not to them. Shuichi might be a well-known singer and Tasuki more of a 'part-time hobbyist' dancer, the two shared a love for performing that could not be disguised. Small time or big time, the resulting satisfaction was always the same.

"I'm glad it's going well!" Shuichi exclaimed, happy to hear his friend had won yet another round. "So this racks up, what? Three wins now?"

"Yeah, it does!" Tasuki whooped. "We're all still pretty juiced after last night. The fifth show is next week and Maiko's already got dibs on one of our club passes."

"Maiko's still hanging around you guys?" Shuichi asked, incredulous. He had introduced his sister to Tasuki and his troupe about six weeks before, along with her then-accompanying cronies Haruhi, Maiko and Tamaki. They had all gone out to a club that night, gotten happily tipsy and had a great time. Maiko had also taken an instant taking to Tasuki's buddy, Akito, as had Akito to her.

"Yep!" Tasuki confirmed. "Those two," he stressed the words meaningfully, "Are seeing so much of each other they're joined at the hip when Mai-chan isn't in school."

"I'd have thought those two would be sick of each other by now, they don't match!" Shuichi muttered, feeling an unfamiliar protectiveness well up within him. Where was this Akito from, anyway? What was his family like…?

"You're one to talk!" Hooted Tasuki, chuckling. He challenged, "How much did you and your ex match?"

"Yeah, yeah," Shuichi replied vaguely, grumbling.

"How are things on that frontier?"

"I've been avoiding the certain blonde novelist guy what's his name…" Shuichi sighed. What was it he was thinking about getting away from thoughts of Yuki?

"'What's his name?'" Tasuki repeated, laughing. "It can't be so bad you'd extend to not even saying his name…!" the laughter cut off abruptly when he lowered his voice and asked suddenly, "He's not bothering you or stalking you, is he?"

"No!" Shuichi hurried to reply. "It's nothing like that. He's not pressing me at all. I haven't spoken to him once since the tour began, in fact…"

"Maybe that's the problem."

"I don't want to talk about this," the singer said warningly.

"Well, it's what I'm interested in at the moment." Tasuki admitted. "I'm just worried about you, you know?"

"I know." Shuichi sat back in his seat.

"Hey, Shu…" Tasuki suddenly sounded mischievous. "Did you listen to the CD I gave you?"

"Oh, yeah!" Shuichi grinned. This was just the kind of distraction he had been hoping for.

Tasuki had given him a CD of easy to pronounce English songs, ones that had nice meanings and a good beat, which didn't require a skilled mouth to sing. The dancer had been translating the lyrics for him, explaining the language along the way and tutoring Shuichi a little. It was fun to learn English through music, and Shuichi wondered why he had not thought of this before. He was very glad now that he could read the English alphabet despite not understanding, it was still helping him on his way to grasping this new horizon of sound opening up to him.

"So what did you think?"

"There was this one called 'Incomplete' that I thought was great, but I want to fix the lyrics a bit." Shuichi said, excited to talk about his favourite topic. "It seems like it would be a whole lot darker and selfish if I change a few things."

"I was thinking that one might catch your attention." Tasuki laughed. "It's by the Backstreet Boys. I don't like them so much, but I figured you would like the sound of that song."

"Yeah," he agreed. "They don't sing with much heart, but the words on this track were pretty good." Shuichi knew he could get a little too passionate about his music, but he hated it when other artists didn't sing the words with feeling when the song was so obviously good. They talked a little more about English. Shuichi hammered out the changes he wanted to make, with Tasuki correcting him on his articles and pronouns along the way. Soon, they hung up, and Shuichi found himself feeling so much better.

By now, the ground beneath his feet rumbled distantly from the pressure of the thousands of fans making their way into the concert venue. He knew he really ought to be outside talking to Yuki, telling the writer how it felt to be here and about to perform, giving a running commentary on what it was like to do what he did… Repeating all the things he had told his lover over the two years they had been together, and which Yuki had never listened to…

He was bitter, he knew that. But, with a groan, he realised he was right back where he started… though after his talk with Tasuki, in a better frame of mind.

It was just that it was taking a paycheque for that writer to finally listen to him and he really, really hated it. He wanted to believe that Yuki was not capable of meaning all the things he had said, not after the history they'd shared and after what the man had done--

Cutting off his train of thought, knowing it was not going anywhere, he decided he needed to talk to Tohma.

Sighing, he resumed focus. Rubbing at his forehead and singing a little to himself in English, Shuichi turned to dress. He was already feeling the unstoppable rise of adrenaline coming on, the makings of a perfect escape from these painful thoughts. His body seemed to know it would soon be time to drown in endorphins, as it did when he became a conduit for the music. His senses were already focusing, narrowing down on that muted hum in the back of his head. The beat in his head seemed to echo the rhythm the crowds unknowingly pounded into the venue structure, which Shuichi could feel mutely reverberating up his feet. When he was dressed, he opened his door and a crew hand immediately came over.

"Are you ready for make-up, Shuichi?" She was a regular and had been on his last tour. Like the other regulars, she addressed him by his first name as he insisted.

"Yes, I am!" He smiled at her and she returned it then nodded before turning to find a make-up attendant.

Paused in the doorway, Shuichi glanced about watching the backstage commotion; people running around to complete last minute details, in this final hour before show time. Amidst the movement, there stood a distinctive figure, and the singer recognised the posture before he'd even noticed the blonde hair. The writer was standing against a scaffold support of the stage backdrop, notepad in hand, furiously scribbling. Katsuya was talking into his ear, gesticulating with excitement, a huge grin on his face. The photographer made to leave Yuki, camera in hand, and as his eyes lifted, he caught sight of Shuichi. The singer waved in a friendly manner then beckoned, and Katsuya came jogging over.

"I'm about to have my make-up done," Shuichi explained. "Do you want to shoot that?"

"Cool!" Katsuya declared, and slipped past into the dressing room when Shuichi held the door open wider in invitation. "This is my first time doing paid photography work, and it's so great to have this job right when I graduated! And to go on tour, it's just amazing…" The young man babbled a bit, talking about what a great opportunity this was for him, and Shuichi listened. He was careful to concentrate on the photographer, whose happy rambles made him smile and distracted him from his musings. He could barely contain his own building excitement. But that was until Katsuya's speech made a segue into talk about working with the great Yuki-sama,

"You know, it's amazing how professional he is in spite of everything. You know Bad Luck's fans are upset that he's with you on tour? He even had to move house to deal with the public hate problems!" Katsuya deftly caught the iced tea Shuichi tossed his way. "And the tour crew people, they've been throwing him dirty looks all day, and being unhelpful and uncooperative…"

Shuichi considered the pre-tour meeting, when K had announced the last minute details that everyone needed to know before the trucks all made their way out to Fukushima. K had explained the writing project and told the crew to be civil to Yuki, had asked them to give their effort toward this project because the book would be a great source of publicity. Never mind that the man was Bad Luck enemy number one.

A few had grumbled about it, but no one had complained, and Shuichi had given little thought to the matter again. He had been too busy trying to avoid his former lover to notice how things had been for the writer since. He frowned a little, absently listening to Katsuya move on to how much he was looking forward to the rest of the tour.

Shuichi's thought were still on Yuki, and he wondered if things were really so bad. If the short-tempered author he loved was really being treated as poorly as Katsuya said, wouldn't he be snarling and complaining?

Fujisaki Suguru was enjoying a little chat with Hiro about one of the songs to be performed that evening, when he spied Mr K making a zero-in on their coordinates. In the questionably compassionate company of his band, the American snarled,

"Damn roadies! What the hell is so difficult about doing your job?" The two musicians raised their eyebrows at him, keeping silent, familiar with the gunman's style of ranting about the rest of his responsibilities. "All they have to do is make a little time and answer the man's questions! Is that so hard?" He glared at the two young men, who caught on to the subject of K's rant and suddenly looked rather indifferent.

"I am not going to offer you a sympathetic ear on this matter," Suguru warned, eyes narrowing. Beside him, Hiro's left eye twitched; the eye that always betrayed the guitarist's disdain.

"Don't tell me I have to take this shit from the two of you, as well!" K hissed, eyes spitting sapphire sparks. "It's bad enough the rest of the crew are giving him such a hard time, I don't need to go soothing your egos on top of everyone else's!" Their manager swept away, pulling his gun out as he grumbled, making people scramble out of his way.

Suguru met Hiro's gaze for a moment, simultaneously mollified by the knowledge that though they were avoiding the writer like the plague, the man had been getting his due. Well, in Suguru's opinion, Yuki-san had been bashed enough by the nation's press. But he considered things carefully, finding K's words believabe.

No one spoke to Yuki Eiri unless absolutely necessary or when the man cornered them. No one helped him with his luggage and no one had attended to or been hospitable to him since they'd arrived. The crew's females ignored him which, Suguru supposed now that he thought about it, was really strange. They were normally scrambling over themselves to get near the famous author, fawning and begging for autographs. Ah, but that was back when Yuki had still been the golden boy, attending concerts to support Shuichi as a lover.

If you could even have called it support… If Suguru remembered correctly, Yuki-san stuck around long enough only to tell Shuichi that he looked like a painted doll, smelled funny and that he was an idiot. All before he escaped out to the VIP section and left them all with an emotionally-smashed little singer to deal with. He and Hiro had become exceptional pep talkers now, thanks to that man's thoughtless comments.

He did not want to have to deal with that shit again.

Today, he was glad that, from where he and Hiro stood, they were in a perfect watch-out position. They could keep out of the crew's way, but maintain both Shuichi's dressing room and that damn writer in sight.

Suguru watched the writer, noting the seemingly easy posture and impassive expression, but glimpsing a little of the nervous tension visible just below the surface. Yuki-san appeared to be simply watching everything, leaving the friendly chattering to his photographer. But he did glance about carefully and quickly, surreptitious glances that clued Suguru in to the fact the writer was quite an observant individual. The pen in his hand almost never ceased moving, his note-taking constantly in progress, his observations going straight to paper. Yuki-san didn't try to talk to anyone, but it was quite likely he would get the full story from Katsuya later anyway. That teen was all over the place!

Watching, the keyboardist frowned when he realised that aside from stepping around the man as though he were an obstacle, no one paid him any attention at all. Positive attention, that is.

Thinking back, he realised that the crew might have been picking up a lot of negativity off him and Hiro, and were likely following suit. Conversations had a habit of pausing when Yuki-san walked by, cold stares were often thrown his way, and occasionally people handling odd or heavy objects would 'accidentally' bump into him. Suguru wondered, with a little impartiality, why the normally irritable and demanding writer put up with the unfriendly treatment. Noticing his stare, a crew man approached.

"Do we really have to put up with him?"

"Unfortunately, we do," Suguru replied, "It's our job." He shrugged, his last phrase making perfect sense to him. He knew this particular crew member understood him. This crewman had been one of the most distant of all the roadies until Shuichi had explained that Suguru really believed in being a professional and doing one's job. Suguru didn't like it that the singer had told the roadies that this proper behaviour counted as 'normal' and that they should cut the keyboardist some slack, but the explanation had turned the staff's attitudes toward him into something approaching friendly.

"We could always make him… leave," the man said suggestively, expression pointed.

"My cousin would be disappointed if that were to happen," he mourned, shoulders slumping a little as he felt a genuine flash of impotent hostility for the novelist. The crewman laughed heartily and slapped the synth-master companionably on his shoulder before heading back to work.

Eiri leaned into a darkened corner out of the way, watching the chaos. From his vantage point he had a good view of almost the entire main back stage area.

From this main area, halls branched out to access halls and offices, and dressing rooms. Shuichi had just stepped out from one of the halls, talking animatedly to Katsuya. The roadies and crew, winding down now that the show was to start soon, waved and greeted the singer. He noticed that all these faces he normally saw frowning or glowering, had happy and warm expressions now that the 'show leader' was before them. It annoyed him to see the nasty little roadies all touchy-feely with his love, these same people who had been giving him as hard a time as possible all day.

Eiri watched the singer gather people to himself, chatting to high-paying backstage guests, tech crew and other staff. Seeing the commotion around the band front man, he realised how true it was that Shuichi ran the show. He really was the most irreplaceable person of the entire affair. If Hiro or Fujisaki were ill or temporarily unavailable, there were always back up musicians to fill in. The rest of the tour crew were even more disposable and even K could be done without. But Shuichi, he was the face of Bad Luck and ultimately the most well known member of the group. His song writing, voice and presence accounted for the greater portion of the band's existence and continued success.

Frowning, he realised he had never quite thought of it that way. He was both impressed with the singer… and regretful for having belittle the boy so much in the past. As he mulled over this, K suddenly appeared from one of the side hallways, waving his gun and bellowed,

"Bad Luck, prepare for take off, you've got half an hour!"

The trio excused themselves from their respective conversations, and moved to an out of the way corner where some instruments had been set up. There, Hiro plucked up his guitar and plugged it into a boom box, slipping on a headset, to run through his chords. Fujisaki also pulled on a headset, plugging into a spare keyboard set out for this purpose, to warm up. But what really caught and held his attention was Shuichi.

The singer was fidgety. An unfamiliar serious expression on Shuichi's face announced his focus, how he was tuning out everything but his own inner music. He bounced around a little in place, keeping his heart rate up, body warm and joints flexed. He hummed a little, sang a few bars here and there before moving to work with his trainer, stretching out and getting stretched out.

There was one particular move that startled Eiri above the rest:

The trainer turned to press his back to Shuichi's and hooked each arm under the singer's at either side. Bending himself forward, the trainer pulled Shuichi onto his own back which pulled the singer into a full-body arch that lifted him clear off the ground. Even from where he stood, Eiri could hear the cringe-worthy snapping of a realigning spine. After a series of lunges, Shuichi sat to rotate his feet, to warm up his ankles and tendons. In this position, as one hand attended to the stretches, the other plugged one of his ears and he ran through his vocal scales.

Eiri was incredibly impressed. This was a side of Shuichi he had neither witnessed before nor even imagined. Well, the boy had done some serious growing up lately so he shouldn't be surprised that—

"Does he always do that?" A nearby crew member, obviously new, was speaking to one of the set-up supervisors. She gestured to Shuichi, "The warm ups and stuff, does he always do that?" The writer cocked his head to listen in on the conversation.

"Ever since his first performance, before every single performance," confirmed the man, obviously liking the attention the young woman was paying him. "But you should see him right before he goes on stage. Now that is amazing to watch, some of us gather at pre-stage just to see it."

Eiri tuned the rest of it out, realising he had never stayed backstage like this before. In the past, he'd been unable to tolerate the fuss of last-minute preparations and flurry of activity, not realising he was missing out on observing this aspect of his former lover.

He wondered how much else was there he never knew about the man who had loved him, about the man he loves…

The thirty minutes went by quickly and Eiri found himself trying to squeeze himself into a good corner to catch the band before they went on stage. He wanted to catch what the crew supervisor had indicated as a must-see. It must have been a popular thing for the back stage crew to watch because there was a crowd building at the side entrance. Luckily, having not had anything better to do, Eiri had snatched himself a prime spot before everyone else had finished with work and begun to gather.

When the opening band, Jubilee, trooped off stage amidst screams from the crowd, a pair of hosts came up on stage to promote the tour side-gimmicks. During this, Eiri watched as the opening group flocked around Bad Luck. The vocalist, a slender young girl with blonde-dyed brown hair happily dashed over to Shuichi and accosted him in a friendly hug. Eiri recognised her from the Valentine's Day concert.

"Shuichi!" She exclaimed excitedly when she stepped back, "What did you think?"

"You guys were great, Shizune-chan!" Shuichi smiled back at her, his eyes strangely bright. "I could hear the crowds."

Shizune must have found the expression in the singer's eyes as strange as Eiri did because she suddenly frowned a little at him. Hiro adjusted his guitar out of the way, stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. Smiling, he assured her,

"Don't worry, he's just excited to get on stage." The guitarist nodded to the others behind her. "You guys just haven't seen us about to take the stage before, that's all. This is normal." Collecting their lead singer, the group moved to one side, maintaining curious expressions.

Eiri was even more mystified now, observing how Hiro and Fujisaki arranged themselves around their singer as though fencing him off from the people gathered. The stage hands and crew, though, seemed familiar with this and kept away from the little barricade. On stage, the MCs were winding down. A stage manager by the side-entrance covered the mouthpiece of his headset, turning to hiss,

"One minute!"

Around him, silence descended, and Eiri glanced about, startled. His eyes snapped to Shuichi, who he suddenly did not recognise. He was dimly aware that the group, Jubilee, were being hushed by a few waiting crew.

The hosts made the mistake of saying the words 'Bad Luck' before they were ready to call the band on stage, and the crowds drowned out the rest of the announcements. The screaming itself seemed to become a beat, a shaking rhythm that possessed the little singer. Raptly, he watched Shuichi's eyes darken into a deep purple shade, a colour deeper than he had ever seen of those eyes before. Shaking, the tension in the singer's small body built until Eiri's thoughts recalled the line 'contents under pressure'. Hiro and Suguru watched just as carefully and, as though an invisible cue had been issued, they reached out and each laid a hand on the boy. Hiro's rested on the singer's lower back, Fujisaki's settled on a slim shoulder.

The touches seemed to calm Shuichi. Slowly, the shivering eased until the singer was bouncing in place, but his eyes continued to darken until the writer could see they had turned almost black. The screaming of the audience had reached a crescendo and the shaking in his small body had reached a nervous state. But instead of over-loading as Eiri suspected the singer might, something seemed to snap in Shuichi and he smiled.

Eiri gasped.

There on the singer's face, was the sweetest, most purely joyous smile he had ever witnessed. Shuichi's eyes, a sparkling shade of grey-purple were clear and open, as innocently bright as a child's. Eiri had never, in all the time he had been with the singer, seen such an expression of unadulterated delight; not when they went on dates or even when they'd made love…

"Here they are, ladies and gentleman, BAD LUCK!!"

The bright stage lights died, plunging everything into suddenly deep darkness. Only the pale blue guide lights on the stage were there to allow the band members to find their places. The audience screamed, if it were possible, even louder. The trio swept past, Eiri keenly aware of their presence despite his eyes not having adjusted. When the music rose, the lights suddenly brightened, sweeping across the stage and over the audience, the roar of the crowds rising to a deafening volume. The beat pounded and the show began…

"Wow…" Whispered Shizune, awed. "I've never seen Shuichi-senpai like that!"

"Amazing, huh?" One of the crew friendly asked as he passed. The singer nodded, wide eyed, before she and her group moved along with everyone else.

Eiri remained frozen, the crew dispersing, their own private show over. The writer was left to his thoughts, his mind having memorised that expression, the image warming his heart. He had never really seen anything like it, never thought that something like it could exist. It was beautiful. Shuichi was beautiful, and it made his heart ache tenderly to know the boy was still capable of such innocent passion. It was the music, he understood that. It boggled his mind, the thought that Shuichi had, time and time again, sacrificed music to be with him, to spend time with and heal him. If music was capable of bringing out such a side of Shuichi, what potential had there been in his relationship with the brat that he had not ever realised?

The boy had loved him as much as music, he had grasped that much. But his comprehension of the quality and depth of that feeling was only now dawning on him, the potential astounding. Dear Gods, what had he done?

(1) Antonio "Budji" Layug (An-toh-ni-yo Bood-jee La-yoog) really does make the furniture described and I am, needless to say, a huge fan. See why at BUDJI dot COM (FF site won't let me put a weblink)

PLEASE, FEED(back) ME!!