Doubt Chapter 13: Who He Is, a gravitation fanfic

Chapter 13

Who he is

They made it to Aomori, their fourth concert venue, with two days to set up.

The Fukushima concert four days behind them, the Iwate event was two days ago, and they were comfortably on schedule. They were now a full week into the tour.

It was cold, here to the north of Japan. After the concert, they would be boarding a ferry to take them up to the island of Hokkaido for their fifth show. The band would be flying back to Tokyo from there for a week-long break while the equipment was transported back down toward Tokyo. From there, they would proceed south, continuing on their way with the rest of the tour.

Aomori was known for its academic facilities, having ties with Hungary and Korea. As the buses moved slowly, the streets crawling with students had Shuichi thinking a lot about how he had been in school. He reflected on his dreams, his goals and how it had all come out. There was a balance in his life, a certain kind of fairness he'd never realized. He'd been a happy go lucky type, always certain that things would work out, and in a way, they had because his dreams of hitting musical stardom were very much a reality.

However, he had also paid the price for his fame both publicly and privately. He sighed, his thoughts inevitably turning toward the man he loved. Having never really considered needing to be in a relationship until much later on his senior year of school, was it really surprising the fates decided on that angle to balance out his karma? He was so lucky to have Hiro, Fujisaki and everyone at NG, it made sense that his love life would suffer.

Just as how he had lived a relatively balanced life, one almost too good to be true, he would have to pay for that with his… condition. It was fair; the Gods were fair.

Just then, the tour buses pulled up in formation at the concert hall and everyone got busy setting up for the show. Fujisaki and Hiro went with the lighting and sound crew, and Shuichi went to help the crew assistants and make-up ladies. This was habit for all of them, and they knew where they belonged, people functioning together and around each other effectively like a well oiled machine. They belonged here, all of them. And Shuichi liked to belong. He liked having his circle of friends, the people who cared, and the feeling of being in a place where he would never be left alone. He had his place here with these people he knew and could trust.

But Yuki did not belong here. The writer had been polite, remained unobtrusive, a silent observer during setup and breakdown. He'd stayed away and let Shuichi be; they had never spoken to each other over the course of the week past. Hiro and Suguru had been hoping Yuki would make scene and give them some excuse to kick his ass, but nothing had happened.

The writer did his job and did it well.

Katsuya liked to tell everyone what the writer was working on and how great things were going for the book, he being the only one Yuki really spoke to. The photographer acted like as a mediator, sharing stories with Yuki from the roadies, and sharing with the roadies what Yuki said or did with the input. The writer himself preferred to remain the observant shadow, and as far as Shuichi was concerned, there had only been a few awkward eyes-meeting moments. Usually, they both avoided each other and with both sides employing the same tactics, it had been easy enough to maintain the distance.

But that, Shuichi decided as he helped move in, joking with the crew, and generally making everyone laugh, was about to change. When things had been unpacked and he was no longer really needed, Shuichi excused himself and went to find the writer.

It was time to set the pace for how the rest of the tour would be. He was through being a problem for K and his band mates. And it would not do for Yuki to be bullied and given a hard time. He had seen over the course of the week how people treated the writer, and he did not like it.

He wanted this tour to be what it was supposed to be: immense fun. He could admit to himself that despite the betrayal, he still cared for his former lover. He liked it that the man had made the effort, had apologised and continued to not pressure him despite the intentions he had outlined. And he also did like it that he had Yuki here with him on tour… despite the fact the writer was being paid to be there. Setting the lingering bitterness aside, it all secretly made him a little happy and it was time to make this easy for everyone.

No one expected him to go looking for Yuki.

Most had contributed to keeping the writer as far away from him as possible. So it was to be expected that when he asked after the novelist, more than a few people gave him odd looks, asked him if he was alright, or if he was certain he was doing the right thing. Eventually someone explained they had assigned the writer an 'out of the way' office room at the back of the concert hall.

Damn it, he thought, weaving his way past boiler and storage rooms, not even Yuki deserved this kind of treatment.

He approached the office door hesitantly, wary that the lack of hospitality might have put the novelist in an even more sour mood than usual. Hand poised over the door, he was just about to knock when he heard Yuki's voice speaking from inside,

"I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I don't know him, that I never really knew him, and you tell me to 'calm down'?" There was a pause, and Shuichi realised Yuki must have been on the phone.

"No, it doesn't change how I feel for him." Shuichi wondered who it was the writer was talking TO and most especially who they were talking ABOUT. He wondered if it was he they spoke of and really, who else was there for Yuki to consider his feelings for? Shuichi frowned.

"No," said the writer, then a few moments later he vehemently repeated, "No!" Yuki sounded exasperated. "I am NOT hesitating! Quit trying to piss me off, Agatsuma-sensei. It's just that the things I know about him don't apply and it… it worries me…"

Worries? Shuichi was puzzled, Agatsuma-san? That name sounded awfully familiar… He turned his head and leaned in, bringing his ear closer to the door to hear the conversation a little better.

"There must be so much more to him that I have no idea about. All the things he told me that I hardly listened to." There was a nervous pause, a sound of a loud huff, before he spoke again, "I like it." The singer leaned in to listen some more. "I said: I like what I see." There was a scoff then Yuki ordered, "Don't laugh!"

Even from outside the door, Shuichi could hear the faint rumble of the writer's grumbling before Yuki said, "I like seeing all these different sides to Shuichi, knowing there is more to him than I thought. I like… him. But it's just difficult to deal with him now not knowing the rules."

Shuichi smiled a little to himself, immensely pleased. It warmed him to know how Yuki felt, to hear these words he would have never imagined he would. Shuichi stood still, remembering Yuki's attempts to ask for him back, remembering the looks he had caught the writer throwing his way since the tour began.

But …the smile slipped off his face…this was not how things were supposed to go. That damnable writer was messing everything up again…

Originally, back when he and Yuki were still together, he had lied to protect his lover. After the betrayal, he had intended to go further and cut his ex completely out of his life, still wanting to spare Yuki despite the fact they were no longer a couple. Now, however, with him having no intention of taking his lover back, things were really on a different playing field. He was entitled to live his life the way he wanted now, and to keep secrets if he so pleased. There was no need for him to explain himself to Yuki anymore, no need to feel guilty! Since Shuichi could never, and would never, accept a relationship with the novelist again, they could move past that as the adults and professionals they were. What was in the past could darn well stay there.

Right?

Heart eased, warmed by Yuki's words, he felt a lot of his anger and bitterness slip away. He decided it would be mature of him to want to move past everything. Maybe… just maybe, friendship really would be a good place to be. There would be nothing more, he reminded himself, and he would just have to push those fantasies out of his mind. His illness was something separate of this decision.

He realised that compartmentalising things like so in his mind gave him a better perspective. Friendship could quite possibly work!

Keh.

Shuichi turned away from the door, not wanting to hear more though his heart ached to listen further. It was enough that he now planned to cave in and offer up a truce. But, he decided, it could wait until later when he was certain he could hide his smile. Anyway, he had to come up with a plan. The writer should not learn he was taking Yuki's suggestion about starting over as friends.

The man had this nasty habit of being way too smug when told he was right.

Fujisaki Suguru liked being a well-known pop star.

His popularity meant people recognised him, did nice things for him and let him get away with a few things. People generally wanted to be his friend.

He had long ago realised that it was this status which had contributed to paving the path for his cousin Tohma when the man had built NG Productions. Networking was easy when people always remembered you and, better yet, where and when you met. They had to, in order to remind you and claim association… or when the media asked for quotes or interviews.

Unfortunately, like tonight, he rued his own stardom. He had to when he was on the sticky and dirty floor of the little nightclub having been tossed to the ground by some bad-ass homophobic delinquents out to pick a fight. Some fight it would be, he thought, when they were all at least eight inches taller than both he and Shuichi.

"Leave him alone!" Shuichi yelled, jumping back up to his feet and stepping between Suguru and the thug who'd knocked them down. The singer was stupidly coming to Suguru's defence when he himself had just been struck and should know better. Suguru was a little worried. The little vocalist would get himself into bigger trouble and be hurt then what would become of the tour?

"Get out of the way, Shuichi!" Suguru got to his feet and pulled Shuichi back. Shit, where was Hiro? "Let's just do as the men say and get out of here."

"No, they are NOT right!" the singer argued, ignoring the glares of the three hoodlums before them. "I'm the only one who's been involved with a man but they're picking on you!" Shuichi turned to the leader goon, the one who had struck Suguru. "And we have every right to be here if we want to, we're just patrons like you are!"

"You celebrity cock-sucker, get the fuck out of my face!" With that disgusted snarl, the man pulled his fist back in a wind up to strike. But from one side, a hand snaked out and caught the thug's arm. In the blink of an eye, the man had been spun around and hit. Out cold, he crumpled gracelessly to the ground, his two friends nervously backing away from the tall, pale angel whose eyes snapped dangerous golden sparks.

"I don't think so," said Yuki in a dangerously low voice. "We celebrities have to stick together, you know." His eyes spoke volumes, the yellow fires in them clearly furious. The two other ruffians wisely backed away further and held up their hands in surrender. As the writer stepped away and toward the two little musicians, the two goons bent and hefted their friend up. They headed for the exit.

Yuki turned to face Suguru and Shuichi fully, his raked them from head to foot, as though checking them over for injuries. His eyes narrowed and the anger in his eyes blazed at the sight of Shuichi's swelling cheek.

Suddenly, Hiro appeared. He was holding the drinks he'd gone to fetch and looked very relaxed. However, at the sight of his two band mates, Suguru clutching Shuichi protectively and Yuki before them, he quickly bristled. Suguru realised that the entire scene had taken place very quickly and that Hiro had no idea what had happened. There was tension in the air around them, but not for the reasons the guitarist supposed. He tried to calm the situation before another incident erupted.

"Hiro! It's not what you think!" He released Shuichi, vaguely aware the singer hadn't moved since Yuki had come to their rescue. He stepped around the still singer and toward his other band mate, reaching out pleadingly. "There were some homophobes who recognised us and they tried to pick a fight!"

"What happened?" Hiro asked, eyeing the writer warily.

"Yuki-san stepped up and kicked their leader's ass." Suguru deliberately left out the details of the violence. He was pretty sure Shuichi didn't want the guitarist to know if it could be helped, either.

"What happened to YOU?" Hiro suddenly asked, looking alarmed. He put the drinks down on their table and reached for the keyboardist. With hands cold from handling the drinks, he probed at his band mate's face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" Suguru did not even attempt to pull away from Hiro; he knew the guitarist would only be all the more concerned. It was better to ride it out. He outlined what had happened instead then insisted, "Yuki-san helped us!"

"Fine, so I owe the guy my thanks," Hiro grumbled. They turned toward where they had last seen Shuichi and Yuki standing to find the two were no longer in sight.

Shit.

"How does that feel?" Yuki asked, left hand gently cradling Shuichi's face. The right held a package of ice wrapped in a damp towel, which he was pressing against the singer's jaw.

"COLD!" Shuichi exclaimed, jerking away a little. But, with a small huff, he let the writer attend to him.

Looking up at his saviour, Shuichi suddenly realised how close their faces were to each other. He flushed with nervousness, looked away and reached to hold the ice pack so Yuki could move away. At the touch of their hands, he started a little, aware that this was the first time they'd touched since the tour launch party. He laughed nervously, trying to cover up his roiling emotions.

"I'll take over holding this," Shuichi said, still looking away. Slowly, Yuki's hands withdrew, almost reluctantly. "This is kind of nostalgic, huh? Except the roles are reversed and I didn't attend to you that time."

"What?"

"Suguru, he… er, he hit you and, well…" Trailing off, Shuichi felt all the more nervous. He shouldn't be reminding Yuki of that, giving the writer reasons to regret coming to their aid.

"I remember." Yuki's voice sounded tired, but his tone changed when he asked, "Did you want to attend to me then?"

Shuichi blushed, realising he had given something away with his earlier words. He did not answer.

"Well, I'm glad I'm attending to you now."

With effort, Shuichi kept his eyes focused away from the novelist's face. He looked down at the ornately carved table upon which his left elbow rested, his left hand clutching the ice compress. He was sitting in one of three silk-upholstered chairs, as was Yuki. They were in the writer's hotel room.

Earlier at the club, when he'd seen Hiro notice the mark on Suguru's face, he had panicked. Hiro would have gone ballistic to know they'd both been hurt. Knowing his best friend, the guitarist would have gone to take the other two done and gotten into trouble. In that panic, he now realised he had not been thinking very clearly when he'd grabbed Yuki's hand and led the writer out of the club.

Shuichi and the band were staying together in the same hotel, but the singer had not wanted to go to his room knowing his two band mates would go looking for him there first. So he'd asked Yuki to take them to his room instead. It was nicer too, one of the most posh hotels in the area, arrangements made by Tohma of course. Hopefully, Hiro and Suguru would not know where Yuki was staying and thus not bother them for a while.

With the 'ice' broken since the incident at the club, this was a ripe opportunity for a one on one chat…

"Ne, Yuki,"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry." Shuichi dipped his head a little further, letting his hair shield his eyes. He was a little uncertain how to launch into what he wanted to say.

"Don't say that," the writer ordered sharply. Shuichi's eyes widened at the hard tone. "Stop apologising for things and you have nothing to apologise for to me… never to me."

"I just meant… I wanted to apologise for tonight, for bothering you--"

"You're not bothering me," Yuki said harshly, a hand slapping the table.

Shuichi felt miserable. He could hear the tension in Yuki's voice, the genuine irritation. But he had the feeling the writer was not irritated with him, but with himself. He hated making Yuki feel bad. Well, now was a perfect opportunity to make the man feel better, right? He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please listen!" Shuichi took a breath, preparing himself. "Thank you for helping us, I really appreciate it!" He kept with his momentum, "It was a very kind, very friendly thing to do, so please!" he sighed, the words suddenly sounding silly in his head. "Let's be friends…"

Idiot, he told himself, this is blind-siding Yuki. He tried to cover up his silliness with haphazard reasoning, "We can be friends, since we're on tour and supposed to be working together. Everyone's been giving you a hard time because of me and you can't do your job right. And it's not alright! If we can work this out we don't have to be at odds anymore and we can all get along--"

"Stop babbling," Yuki said, his voice suddenly gentle.

"I'm so--" a warm hand covered his mouth, cutting off the rest of the singer's words.

"Quit apologising," the writer reminded him.

Shuichi looked up. On Yuki's face was a gentle expression he had not seen in a very long time. In those eyes, he saw relief and… hope. He felt a shudder run down his spine, his mind traitorously supplying images of what he really wanted instead of the friendship he'd just proposed.

Startled, he dropped the ice pack. He went to pick it up off his lap at the same time Yuki did and their hands met. The writer's warm fingers were also in his lap and against his leg, the heat sharply contrasting the chill of the ice pack. A second shudder ran down his spine, and his body tightened in response to the touch on his thigh.

"I got it!" Shuichi squeaked, resisting the self-preserving urge to push Yuki's hands away. One of the writer's hands closed around his right wrist, forcing him to look up and meet the man's gaze.

"I accept your offer of friendship." Yuki tilted his head a little to one side and gave a small smile. Shuichi was completely entranced. It had been a very long time since he had seen Yuki smile, and he had always liked seeing both the writer's mouth and eyes reflecting the same expression. This smile reached those yellow eyes, and Shuichi liked being the reason behind it.

"Good," Shuichi whispered, smiling, and tried to pull his hand back. He watched Yuki hesitate before letting go.

"Then we're friends," Yuki agreed, nodding slightly. The small smile bloomed across his face again when he asked, "Does this mean we can talk again?"

"Yes, of course," Shuichi answered automatically. But a thought occurred to him and he frowned a little. "But there are some things I don't want to talk about and as a friend, you should respect that." Yuki's eyes sparkled at him, and Shuichi realised he still understood the way the writer's mind worked. And if he was right, he knew what would be coming next.

"But as your friend," There was a slight stress on that last word. "There are some things that I need to discuss with you. What do I do?"

"Save it until I'm ready," he ordered. He had wanted to make this offer so they could get along, not dig up the past. His frown deepened into a scowl, and he gave the writer a significant, warning look.

"As you wish," said Yuki calmly, still smiling.

"Don't play games with me, Yuki," Shuichi warned.

"Eiri,"

"Eh?" Shuichi eyes furrowed for a different reason. Was that what he thought it was?

"My name is Eiri," said the writer. "Friends should call me by name."

"Eh…" the name seemed strange to him, even in his mind. He hesitantly tried again, "Ei…ri…"

"That's right," Eiri smiled a little, and gave a brief nod. He had a strange expression on his face as he listened to Shuichi wrap his tongue around the name.

"Eiri," Shuichi felt a little more confident, knew this was an invitation few ever received. He liked it, but it made his heart clench when he said it. The pain ought to be a good reminder to him, he thought, of the distance there should be despite calling the writer by his first name.

There was a twisted humour to be found in this simple change. He had called the writer 'Yuki', an assumed pen name, when they were lovers but was allowed to call the man by his given name now that they were friends. Just friends… How could that not hurt? He carefully wiped his face free of expression and looked up to meet Eiri's gaze.

"Thank you," he murmured. This was going to be very hard indeed, he realised. "I have to warn you, though, the rest of the band are not going to like this."

"It's alright," Eiri waved his concern away. "It's only your opinion that really matters to me anyway."

"But they're my band mates," the singer brow furrowed again a little, worried. "And we are all going to be on tour together for the next few months--"

"Is it important to you that I get along with them?" Shuichi registered the frown on Eiri's face. The writer seemed annoyed, but he could see the thinly masked a concern and worry beneath.

"I think it would be best for everyone if we all got along well," he hedged. "We would be a lot more productive and this promo--"

"You didn't answer my question, Shuichi."

A shiver snaked down the singer's spine at Eiri's use of his name. Was it going to be like that, too? Eiri using his given name properly now that they were friends and giving up the insults he'd used when they were lovers?

"Yes," the singer said, firmly. "It is important to me."

"Did you offer me friendship so we would all get along better?" Eiri asked, suddenly. He seemed tense, and there was something in his tone that made Shuichi carefully study his expression.

"Yes, but," he didn't want to go into details about that. "But it is something that I want for us, too."

"Good." Eiri relaxed and leaned back in his chair.

"But I do want you all to get along better," Shuichi insisted. He pulled the ice compress away from his jaw, distracted when a cold rivulet made its way down his forearm.

The ice in the hand towel was melting and the pack would need to be changed. He could see Eiri at the rim of his peripheral vision, leaning forward and reaching for the compress in his hand. Without thinking, he lifted his arm and semi-extended it to pass the package to Eiri, and at the same time he ducked his head to catch the running water at his elbow. The cool moisture felt good on his tongue. His throat was dry from nervousness and he had never gotten his drink at the bar.

Face rising as he licked up to his wrist, he caught sight of the hand frozen above his own. Startled to find the other man so still, he swept his gaze up to Eiri's shocked-looking face.

"Eiri?" his eyes widened with concern. "Is something wrong?" Ignoring him, the writer snatched the package from him and turned away toward the bathroom. From where he sat, he could watch Eiri dump the melting ice cubes in the sink and wring the small towel out.

"Your face is discolouring," said the novelist gruffly, as he prepared a new compress. "It's not looking good."

"Oh, shit," Shuichi grumbled, prodding at his jaw. It felt stiffly puffy and he winced a little at the pain. "Mr K is going to throw a fit when he sees this."

He stood and followed Eiri, wanting to see in the mirror how bad it was. In the bathroom, he stood beside his former lover, very conscious of how his elbow brushed Eiri's hip and generally how near the writer was to him. He liked it, but it was also tortuous. He stared at his reflection absently, his senses still preoccupied, and reached up to his face again.

"Quit poking at it," Eiri ordered, yanking his hand away from his face.

Automatically, Shuichi pouted up at the bossy man. He winced again when his face disagreed with the habit.

"And don't do that." Eiri brushed past heading for the mini fridge. "Pouting doesn't suit you anyway."

"I will pout if I want to!" Shuichi snapped, suddenly short tempered. He covered his mouth in surprise, startled at the vehemence in his own voice. He looked wide eyed over at Eiri's back, who stood still at the mini bar. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so--"

"Quit apologising." The writer resumed re-making the ice pack. He turned and looked at Shuichi expectantly.

The singer was worried with himself. Where had the anger come from? He didn't want to ruin their new friendship when he liked having Eiri near him and on speaking terms again. He wanted this to work; he would make this work.

Shuichi plodded over to his seat and re-took it, then held out his hand for the ice pack. Instead of giving it back, Eiri knelt before him and, cradling his face, applied the compress himself.

At the gentle touch, the singer's eyes filled with tears. It was so good to have Eiri being so nice to him, he hadn't had anyone touch him quite the way the writer did. The underlying tenderness made him ache, but he liked it very much, never mind they were going to be nothing but friends henceforth. Even then, since they had come to this agreement, they had already settled back into a certain level of familiarity.

Things were comfortable in a way that was easy and natural to both of them. It would also be too easy and natural to slip back into other habits… things that were not befitting a mere friendship. These thoughts frightened Shuichi, saddened him, and the pressure of tears behind his eyes increased.

He could not hide his expression from the writer, who on his knees had a low angle view of the singer's face. He let the tears fall and Eiri brushed them away with his thumbs.

"It's normal for you to angry with me," said the writer. "If you haven't vented it, it will be there and it will need to come out."

"I don't want to let it out," Shuichi muttered sadly. It would not do to hurl bad and hurtful words at his new friend. They would only argue and everything would be worse than it was before. "I want it to just go away…"

"Then you will need to make it go away." Eiri told him, still with that kind voice. "You need to let it out."

"I don't want to," whined the singer, plaintively. He tried to pull his knees up and curl up into a ball, but Eiri wedged them out of the way with his elbows, hands preoccupied with the compress and cradling Shuichi's cheek.

"Look at me," Eiri ordered. Shuichi closed his eyes instead. "Look at me, Shuichi, this is important."

This was painful. It hurt Shu to be angry, when the anger made him sad and the sadness in turn made his heart heavy. Yet he also recognised a truth in Eiri's words. His emotions only ever found a way out through his songs, but he hadn't written many angry songs lately.

He had stopped… around the time Suguru had discovered his song folder in the Bad Luck house. He hadn't written any music just for himself since. He wasn't angry with his band mates for listening to his emotional diary, but he had not made another since then. He supposed his anger now was from bottling everything up.

Trusting Eiri to say something intelligent, something that might make this new relationship work and give him a way to deal with this, he took a deep breath. He forced himself to calm before opening his eyes.

"I was wrong," the novelist admitted, looking regretful and pained. "I was wrong to do what I did to hurt you." Shuichi looked away, the reminder making his eyes tear up again and the anger swell. "I didn't think about how much it would hurt us both, and I regret that. I'm sorry for hurting YOU more than anything, though." He tilted Shuichi's chin, trying to get the boy to meet his gaze again. "You didn't deserve it and you have every right to hate me for doing that to you. I deserved to have you hit me, not Fujisaki."

Whimpering, Shuichi tried to pull away. This was not what he wanted! He didn't like talking about the past, didn't want to open up those old wounds. He had made a decision about their friendship, that the past would not be brought into it and they could both move on in their relationship. Being angry was his own problem now and it has nothing to do with Eiri. But the man wouldn't let him withdraw, large hands clamping down and keeping him still, not letting him move away.

"Let me go," Shuichi whispered. Anything louder and he might have shouted.

"Shuichi--"

"No!" he hissed. He wanted this to work! "Just let me go! You don't have the right to make me talk about anything that I don't want to and I don't want to talk about any of that!" His vision blurred completely and he could not see. He could feel, though, and he used his sense of touch to pull away and recede into his seat, pulling up his legs and curling up. "I offered you my friendship, but that is all that I am offering you!"

Somewhere along the way, Shuichi realised he had begun to shout. Shit. The anger was coming loose again, and one more time things were spiralling out of his control. He chose his best option in the situation, but this time it would be with dignity: He nudged Eiri out of the way and quickly stood. Stepping to one side away from the writer, he bowed briefly.

"I'm sorry for shouting," Shuichi said, speaking clearly and around his tear-thickened throat. He brushed at his eyes as he continued, "But I would not like to discuss this matter anymore, and I would like to go back to my room. I'm tired, so please pardon me." He spun on his heel and marched for the door. As his hand settled on the door handle, Eiri's arm snaked past over Shuichi's shoulder and planted itself on the door to stop him from opening the portal.

"I will let you go, Shuichi," said Eiri, his voice calm and reassuring; not at all threatening. "But I want you to know that when you are ready, when you want to let the anger go, I will be waiting. I'll take it. You deserve to… be free."

"Thank you," the singer replied, politely.

He did not turn around, his hand continued to grip at the door handle. Eiri pulled away and Shuichi opened the door. He shut it quietly behind him and made his way to the elevator. At the hotel front desk, he calmly asked for a taxi, politely thanked the valet, and maintained his composure through the fifteen minute ride.

It wasn't until he was undressed and buried under his blankets that he curled upon himself and wept.

Hiro and Suguru didn't seem too eager, but Shuichi's enthusiasm was a little hard to resist.

From his decision to mend bridges with his former lover, to tossing them a curveball at what should have been a routine radio interview, Shuichi had that silly way of getting everyone to see that his way was the best way to go.

For now, they'd decided.

Shuichi had refused to discuss what had happened between him and Yuki-san, but it seemed that the change was good for the singer. That was the only reason they were agreeing to be nice to the writer. Well, that and the man needed to write his damn book.

"Come on!" the singer whined at his two band mates. "This'll be great! We don't have to go acoustic, they have equipment right here!"

"The machines aren't set up for us!" Argued Suguru, hissing and trying not too attract attention, a hand clamped around Shuichi's forearm.

"And the longer we stand here arguing, the less time we'll have to prepare, so let's go!" Grabbing Suguru's wrist, easily accessible via the keyboardist's grip on his arm, Shuichi dragged his band mate into the sound booth with him. Hiro dutifully followed his best friend.

"Ugh!" growled Suguru with disgust. He fixed a glare on Hiro, snapping, "You're supposed to be another voice of reason, not blindly following the idiot!"

"Don't call me an idiot," Tossed the singer over his shoulder. Hiro smiled, enjoying watching the banter and ignoring Suguru's nasty expression.

"You're not, Shu," said the guitarist, "And I AM following 'the idiot', actually…" he levelled his teasing gaze on the incensed synth-master.

"Huh!" huffed Suguru, glaring, eyes narrowing further.

"Yay!" cheered Shuichi, releasing Suguru now that they were in the sound booth. "I'm not the idiot today!" A few attending technicians laughed at overhearing this.

The band were at a local radio station for an interview, but had arrived fifteen minutes too early. Fifteen minutes which Suguru obviously did NOT want to spend cramming in a sound check so the band could play a live number for the show.

'Trust Shuichi', Suguru had said earlier, 'to come up with such a suggestion, opening his big mouth to make another mad boast and get the band in trouble'. Huh, thought Shuichi, what a stick in the mud. The boy needed to have a sense of adventure! What was the point of being a young adult if you behaved like you were on your way to retirement?

So there they were, with twelve minutes to tune the equipment, set up, and run through some sound checks. No big deal, right?

Not if you were Fujisaki Suguru, apparently. Koharu-san was now on the keyboardist's list of people to hate, and the poor DJ had only been trying to do his job.

After setting up, they trooped back into the DJ booth and sat before the microphones. Hiro nestled the studio guitar in his lap, tuning the instrument and strumming it occasionally throughout the interview. They gave their introductions over the airwaves and talked a little about how they were happy to be performing. After answering dutiful questions about the tour, Koharu-san invited his silent and distant audience to prepare themselves for a live song performance. There would be only a short commercial break, to give the band time to get into position.

From the sound booth, the band members re-introduced themselves and announced that they were going to play The Rage Beat. It was their first song and biggest hit, and ranked most favourite on the studio's most recent poll.

They got into performance mode and nodded at each other. Striking up the tones on the keyboard, Suguru flashed his singer a big smile. Hiro nodded, foot tapping to the beat, a grin sweeping across his face. The song brought memories flooding back to Shuichi, how these words in his head, these pronouncements, were meant for one person. He saw blonde hair and gold eyes, a tall frame and billowing coat. He recalled the way the page of lyrics had looked in the slender fingers of that pale hand…

Opening his mouth to sing, Shuichi felt the sound and emotion resonate down into his heart. It ached, the pain he'd set aside rising and almost choking him. But he could still sing, his open throat refusing to close down on the sound. He could feel how his own body rejected the pressure from within, insisting on letting the music out. His heart leaked out the hidden pain while his body kept the outlet open, letting the hurt drain away slowly through the song. He knew he was singing powerfully; it felt good.

This was good. He was letting his anger free. This was the way it should be, letting the past go and facing a new future. When he re-opened his eyes at the end of the song he, blinking to clear misty vision, and gave Koharu-san a big grin. He felt better, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, as though he were almost… happy. It had been some time since he had really felt like this.

"Shuichi…" Hiro looked concerned, setting aside his guitar to signal the DJ before approaching. Shuichi heard the monitors mutely but registered a commercial had just been put on air instead of the final words they'd planned for. The guitarist reached for him, muttering, "Come here."

Obediently hopping off his stool, the singer looked up at his best friend with puzzlement. Hiro's hands came to rest on his shoulders, before quietly asking,

"Are you okay? You're crying…"

Shuichi reached up and touched his face, his fingertips smearing the moisture across his cheek. His eyes widened at the amount of wetness there and he exclaimed, "I didn't know! I'm sorry, did I ruin the interview? That's a commercial on now." He glanced up at Koharu-san, embarrassed and surprised. The DJ gave him a small sympathetic smile, leaning to his microphone to reply through the sound booth speaker,

"Don't worry. I'm just giving you a moment to yourself." Shuichi nodded at that, turning back to his very worried band mates.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I didn't even know I was crying!" He scrubbed his face on his sleeve and hopped back onto his stool. He smiled at Hiro, but his best friend winced a little. Not understanding, he frowned and tried to reason, "I wasn't sobbing or anything, so I can't look that bad."

"That's not it," Hiro sighed. "We'll talk about it later, okay?" The guitarist rumpled his hair before retaking his own seat.

Shuichi kept frowning… he hadn't realised how his own body would reject his decisions.

Well, that was to be expected, he supposed. He was forcing something the odd friendship with Eiri on himself which he did not want, and which no one else seemed to really support. But it was what he wanted and he would damn well get it. He set his jaw. This was how it would be and his singing wasn't suffering.

He had liked being happy like that, how the song had made him feel. It was working, this way, so there was no reason to change or challenge it. He would sing, and his anger and pain would drain out that way. He had a whole tour ahead of him and there would plenty of opportunities to let his resentments out…

He picked at the corner of his shirt absently, thinking deeply.

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