Author notes:

Yes, I'm back. Sorry for the delay. It's been a disgusting last few weeks for me. End of year billing, lead adminitrator on holiday, I went on holiday with my Dad and his two daughters... bringing my own two half-sisters from my Mother's side along (picture it, five girls and one car, through Paris, York, London and Scarborough), moving house... not even into the house I was supposed to move to. And finally, my laptop crashed.

(takes a bow)

Here's the chapter:

Chapter 23
Killing me
19 April 2007

--

There was something wrong.

If there was any doubt before, today had eradicated it. Eiri had watched Shuichi scamper around Kyoto's Nintendo Headquarters with greater fervour than usual and that kind of over excited nervousness (add a dash of an odd wistfulness), and there was nothing in the world that could possibly convince the author now that everything was just fine.

No matter what anyone said, the little singer did not always behave like a caffeine over-dosed energizer bunny with ADD. Well, Eiri knew at least that much. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't.

When they made their stop at the restaurant for an end of the day sundae, Eiri quietly watched Shuichi eat his dessert… and damn near forgot what it was he was so worried about. He stared as Shuichi licked and sucked his way through the sticky goodness, stomping violently down on the urge to squirm.

That or the urge to lean across the table and snatch Shuichi up into his arms and ravish the little singer.

With a sigh, the writer tore his eyes away from the delicious sight and focused on the group of crying kids not too far off to his right, outside the café from where the noise thankfully did not reach him.

"Yeah, now I know something is wrong," Shuichi said, "When the untameable bachelor Yuki Eiri-san stares wistfully at children."

Cleverly, Eiri sought to turn this initiative as a start into a conversation he very much wanted to have. He remembered something his therapist had said: When you want to know something of another person, you should volunteer something of yourself first. So he said,

"I did want to have children."

Shuichi's jaw dropped onto the table.

"I thought I would raise my kids in the exact opposite way my father raised me." He felt rather embarrassed admitting this. Only Mika had ever heard about this. "I calculated that I would end up with perfectly happy and adjusted children. So I could tell my father he had really been the one at fault I ended up the way I did despite my blonde hair."

Eiri turned to look at Shuichi, seeing the wide amethyst eyes he admired so much. Shu seemed to be recovering from the shock of the confession and so the writer continued,

"But then New York happened and that was all gone." He resisted the urge to succumb to the desolation thinking about his former teacher brought him. He seized upon another shocker and, smirking, said, "Now when I think about kids with blonde hair, they inevitably have your eyes."

Shuichi jaw dropped, this time, to the floor.

Picking up his coffee, Eiri took a leisurely sip, waiting for the dazed expression to fade from Shu's face. Well, that certainly had the desired effect. But then in the next moment, Eiri wanted to scold himself. That line of thinking would never come to pass between two men. But it was a nice thought, he supposed, and something he could use in his next novel. He frowned.

He had never written of his characters having kids before…

The realisation pulled him away from the moment, from Shuichi and their troubles. He forgot about wondering what was wrong with his lover and he drifted away into his writing world.

"Are your characters having kids now?"

Eiri started, and stared. "How did you know that?"

"We were just talking about it!" Shu giggled and spooned up some more of his ice cream. "When you get that look on your face, you're itching for your lap top."

It suddenly occurred to Eiri that he didn't know Shu's expression when the kid wanted his notebook. Instead, curiously he asked, "Do I have a lot of… looks?"

Shuichi laughed cheerfully. When he quieted, he smilingly said, "You have more looks than anyone I know. You're an interesting person, Eiri."

"Hn," the writer huffed, taking another drink. "Didn't know you thought so much of me."

Eiri wanted to kick himself when Shuichi looked away, humour fading from his face. The writer figured that Shu must have recalled his greatest sin. Shit! He did not want Shuichi thinking about then when it had taken so much for them to get where they were now, something approaching positive.

It didn't escape his attention the singer still thought of their current state as something temporary. Hell, he thought of that not so little catch every waking moment. Surely, whatever it was, that last insecurity holding his lover back, if only they could get past that then there really would be a chance for them to be together again.

And this time…

--

"I am not letting him go," the writer stated emphatically. "I don't give a shit what you say, I won't give up without a fight."

"I am aware of that, Eiri-san," Tohma soothed softly, "I am not questioning your feelings for Shuichi-san, merely reaffirming what I already know."

"Hn." The writer tucked his mobile between his chin and shoulder, lifting both hands to his lips to nip out a cigarette from the pack and light it up. "The hell you asking questions to which you already know the answer, Tohma, that's not like you."

"Yes, indeed it isn't." Tohma paused and the writer knew then that he was about to have his world turned on its ear again.

Bracing himself, a grimace on his face, Eiri asked, "What is it now?"

"Shuichi."

"Isn't it always?" Eiri sighed. Tone firming, he resolutely asked, "Am I going to be shaken or stirred?"

"Think whirlpool," Tohma suggested, "You have until the end of this tour and Shuichi's birthday to win him completely over."

"Damn it!" Eiri snapped, "Fucking hell you giving me a dead line for?!"

"Not I, Eiri-san," With a sigh Tohma said, "But circumstance. I am treading dangerously on the line of breaking Shuichi's trust here, please know that, telling you even this much. But based on what I know he is going through, I am calculating that unless you have him committed to you by his birthday, you will never get him back."

"Bloody fucking hell!!"

"Yes," Tohma murmured absently, "I thought you would say that."

--

"What else was I supposed to say?" Eiri demanded hotly.

Hiro put his hands up in placating surrender, "I didn't mean anything by asking."

"The fuck you didn't!" the writer snarled. He tapped a cigarette out of his rapidly emptying pack and snatched it with his teeth before absently offering the guitarist a smoke. Hiro took one quickly, before Eiri decided he really was in a bad mood and took them back. So much for quitting, he thought, thinking about Ayaka. At this rate, they would both be back to smoking like chimneys.

"I just want to make sure," Hiro reasoned, more than a little amused at the sight of a very worried Yuki Eiri. Such an unusual sight it was. "And I'm glad you're still… steadfast."

The writer glared, eyes flashing particularly at the sight of Hiro's guiltily twitching lips. Turning away, Hiro lit up, hiding his smile and taking the time to wipe the humour from his face. Casually, he said,

"So all you have to do is work as hard as you have been and everything will be alright… right?"

"The hell should I know?!"

Hiro sighed, but knew better than to push the already pressured novelist. He knew from Shuichi's stories that Eiri did not take too well to being teased when under stress. And this situation certainly counted as one of those times… he wanted to keep his hide, thank you very much.

"Thanks."

Wondering if he had somehow mis-heard, Hiro opened his mouth… and quickly shut it. Best not to question these things, he decided, and nodded instead, "Yeah, good luck."

"I think I'll need it," Eiri replied absently, eyes following Shuichi who had just stepped out of the main tour bus, duffle bag in hand to spend the night with Eiri in his hotel room.

Nodding his pardon, the writer stepped away and over to Shu's side. K was issuing last minute orders and the singer needed to wait for last minute permission or there would be hell to pay if the gunman went looking for him later.

They had just arrived in Hiroshima, the twenty-fourth of March, for their concert on the twenty-sixth. In the light of dusk, Shu's pink hair glimmered unusually, a rosy hue giving the singer's eyes an other-worldly contrast. In this light, he looked unbelievably beautiful. Eiri stared as he walked over, eyes skimming over this beautiful boy who meant his whole damned life to him.

So distracted was he that he didn't realise Shuichi and K had already spoken, however briefly, just to let the manager know that they would be leaving, watching the singer until the kid was standing right before him.

"Hey," Shu muttered, a shy smile on his face, as though he knew precisely what Eiri had been thinking.

"Hey," the novelist whispered back. On an even more muted volume, just under his breath, he added, "I love…" Shu's eyes widened, as did (Eiri soon realised) his own. Where had that come from? But shit, he meant it… he wondered if he should have said it. He resisted the urge to scowl, embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. He looked away instead then at a normal volume asked, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah…" the singer fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking a little miserable.

"Let me carry that," And Eiri snatched up Shu's bag, slinging it over his shoulder before the singer could protest. He turned to lead the way, glancing over his shoulder at Shu to nod his head in indication they should go. Quietly, Shu came to walk with him.

By his side, Eiri thought. This was how he wanted it, he realised. Shuichi with him; waking to Shu's morning exuberance, the mid-day phone calls checking up on him, afternoon voice mail messages and finally calling him back to be asked what he would like for dinner…

Selfish, he told himself. Such selfish ideas and habits, he realised, and even now his motives were selfish. He frowned to himself, beeping his car key fob to unlock his vehicle and leading the way to the boot. He popped it open and, instead of tossing the bag in as he carelessly would, set it down. Coming around to the passenger side, he opened the door for Shuichi… Who suddenly wasn't there.

He started, looking over his shoulder, a little twinge of fear snaking its way into his heart. This felt too much like how things were going in his life with Shuichi, metaphorically. Wanting Shu to be part of his life, needing the boy with him to give and receive love, thinking everything is alright only to turn around and not find Shuichi there.

"Shu?" He found the kid a ways back where they had come, standing by the car boot and fidgeting madly. "Is something wrong?"

"We don't need to stay together tonight, you know," Shu murmured hesitantly, looking away to the tour buses. "I mean, if you don't want to—"

"I want to," Eiri interrupted, annoyed Shu would think he didn't want the singer with him. Shu's gaze snapped to his face, meeting his gaze. "Hell, if I had my way, I wouldn't--" Let you leave me side, he wanted to say. He amended that to: "Leave your side."

He held the door open and waited, heavy bands tightening around his heart until finally Shuichi stepped forward and came to stand before him. Looking down into Shu's amethyst eyes, the tightness moved up into his throat and Eiri could not resist slowly bending down… Gently, eyes half open looking into blurry violet eyes, he brushed his lips across Shuichi's. Softly, the singer responded, lips bowing and catching at Eiri's bottom lip and sending sparks of fire tingling up along the writer's spine.

Shuichi sighed and Eiri sensed a kind of surrender in the muted tone. When he straightened up, Eiri felt a small smile crease the corner of his lips and he knew then that –if only for tonight—things would be okay.

--

Definitely better than okay, he thought. Eiri looked down at Shuichi's closed eyes and calm face, and felt the nth smile of the day worm its way across his face.

Lying on his side in the large king-sized bed, he scooted closer before propping the side of his head up on his palm. Shu's hands, curled before him on the pillow, unfurled to spread small fingertips across the writer's chest and Eiri's ghost of a curve turned into a real smile.

"Hey," he whispered and Shuichi smiled too, eyes still closed. Eiri cautioned, "Don't move. Just let me stare."

Shuichi cracked open an eye, a sparkle in them the writer really missed, before he shut it again. He remained still, even as Eiri lifted a hand and dusted his fingertips over the blankets over the singer's thigh, up over his hip, up along the side of his back and over the blanket edge to slip up onto a smooth shoulder. Lightly, Eiri continued on and stroked the singer's collarbone. He dipped his index finger into the hollow of Shu's collarbone at the base of that smooth throat then slowly down that narrow, hairless chest…

Eiri thought back to just a little earlier, to the view of that chest heaving, those arms clinging. The length of that pale throat stretched up and convulsing with strangled moans.

With a small shiver, the writer reined in his libido and schooled himself to calm. But then Shuichi's small hands disappeared beneath the blankets and a cool touch encased his interested manhood… With a small, breathless moan, Eiri's eyes slipped shut and he bowed forward. Hunching over Shuichi's snuggling form, he curved his hand around the small of the singer's bottom and squeezed.

"Shuichi," he murmured breathlessly.

Leaning over Shu, he pressed the singer onto his back and bent, capturing Shuichi's lips in a mad kiss. Thrusting his hips, Eiri licked Shu's bottom lip, Shu surrendering his hold on the writer's hardness to reach up and curl small hands around Eiri's shoulders. The press of Shu's hardness against his made Eiri dizzy and he gasped into the kiss.

Undulating, pressing back, Shuichi carefully massaged his way from Eiri's shoulders, down to firm hips and clenched his little hands into the firm muscles of the writer's buttocks. Eiri gave a soft grunt, mouthing at the singer's jawline and along down his neck to nibble at Shu's shoulder, biting softly. When Shuichi squirmed beneath him, Eiri couldn't help but arc back up to catch Shuichi's lips with his own. Pressing the singer's mouth open, Eiri tangled his tongue with Shu's and gave the wet muscle a light nip.

Shuichi moaned and lifted his legs, hooking his ankles around Eiri's waist, his hands reaching to grip Eiri's hips and guide them to align with his own. Suddenly finding his hardness poised at Shu's entrance, Eiri nudged forward, his hardness sliding along the cooling wetness of the lube they'd used earlier, into the slipping gel warmed by the singer's body. The heat of Shu's body he could sense by such proximity was beginning to drive him mad. Resisting the instinct to slam forward, he instead began to slowly rhythmically drive forward going deeper each time until finally, finally, he was fully encased in the singer's wet warmth.

"Eiri!" Shu cried softly, curling upward to cling to him.

Gasping, Eiri rocked against Shuichi, the beginning of an easy rhythm. He built it up slowly, knowing that despite Shuichi's demands for him to hurry, the singer really had his most amazing climaxes when Eiri prolonged their love-making. Even if the heat of the singer's body made him want to slam himself into Shu hard and fast, he didn't want this to end and wanted to make this as good for his lover as he could. Arching upward off the bed, Shuichi gave a high cry, his hands scrabbling over the writer's back as he to lose his sense of self.

Gods, Eiri's own mind seemed to be slipping away from him, too. He bent and nipped at Shuichi's jaw, the singer turning his face to pant into his own shoulder. Following, Eiri licked along Shuichi's upper lip and started to speed up his movements.

Wimpering, the singer managed, "Gods, Eiri, hurry…"

"No," Eiri whispered, leaning forward and pushing deep. He held the pose so that Shuichi whimpered and curl upward into it, lower back lifting off the bed.

"But I can't…"

"Slowly," the writer insisted. Arms wrapped around Eiri's shoulders, Shu threw his head back and he gave a half-shout, almost a scream. Cooing, Eiri repeated, "Slowly…"

"No, please," Shu begged panting, groaning, eyes fully dilated. "Please…"

Eiri gave a series of mad, deep and fast thrusts and the singer mewled, thrusting back into each shove. Pushing deeply, Eiri leaned forward again and held himself there, once again forcing the singer to hunch upward into him, lower back lifting once more as Shu struggled to rise up into the pressure of the hardness inside him.

When Shuichi cried out again, Eiri's thoughts lost coherence and he resumed thrusting. Building up the rhythm, Eiri moved madly with his lover until everything in his senses registered nothing but wet heat, Shuichi's breathless moans and the tightness surrounding him. The liquid fire pooled heavily in his belly, threatening to explode but still he managed to breathlessly whisper,

"I love you, Shuichi…"

"I--"

"Shuichi!" Eiri demanded, so close but keeping the rhythm.

Desperately, Shu arched off the bed, hoarsely crying, "I love you… Eiri!"

When Shuichi's wetness pumped against his stomach, Eiri gave a hoarse shout and let himself go. The sensations swept heavily over him and the emotion closed at his throat. This had become everything to him, hadn't it? Loving Shuichi not just in bed, but out of it and in even small ways, in every way he could imagine and make up.

With that came a thought he had never really considered: Did he really, truly, deserve Shuichi after everything?

Filled with both hope and determination, the doubt and longing, he knew… he didn't have the allowance to doubt himself. This was the last chance he would ever get and this opportunity wasn't coming again… he knew that and yet--

Pulling out and collapsing on his stomach beside Shuichi, he murmured, "I don't deserve you do I?" Dazed, confusion registered on his features, Shuichi panted. Eiri continued, "I keep thinking that I'm selfish, that I don't deserve to have you." He sighed, "That I deserve for you to leave me when this tour is over."

The singer's wide amethyst eyes filled with tears even as the post-orgasmic bliss gave his features a pleasant glow.

"I keep thinking," Eiri admitted, "That if you leave me, I am never going to have you back… that when you turn to go, I will never see you again." His voice cracked now as he spoke and he could not help but move closer and pull Shuichi into his arms. "I don't want to make the same mistake again, I don't want to let you go and watch you walk away. I…"

Shuichi hugged him back, tacit and sad. He continued to breathe heavily but he remained silent as he clung to Eiri, and the writer wondered how many more of these he would get before everything ended between them.

"Please, Shuichi, tell me."

"I don't--"

"Whatever it is that's tearing you up," Eiri whispered, speaking into the mop of pink tucked partly under his chin, "Whatever it is that's holding you back and breaking your heart," He closed his eyes, the tears finally slipping free. "Whatever it is that's keeping you from being happy, with or without me."

"Eiri…"

"Tell me."

"Eiri, please…" Shu seemed to get his breathing under control quickly at this point. The singer's hands still clung and Eiri hoped it was because the kid still wanted to be in his arms… Shu hadn't pulled away yet, in any case. He wanted to press his luck; this was all driving him insane with frustration.

"Shuichi—"

"No," came Shu's harsh voice, head ducking down, shoulders hunching.

Eiri stiffened before whispering, "Why?"

"Please, Eiri, just let me…" Shu swallowed, snuggling close, "Just let me stay here with you like this, just us two…"

"This is difficult for me, Shu," Eiri muttered, pulling away a little and looking down at him. But Shu kept his face down, maintaining his gaze with the writer's chest. "Having you in my arms but not truly in my life so for me, I also ask you, please…"

"I can't!" Shu sobbed, pulling away as well. He seemed to snap when he raised his voice saying, "I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone, I just want to be with you--"

"But you aren't with me." Eiri frowned, truly annoyed. "You're here in my arms but you're not with me. You've locked yourself away and I--" With frustration, the writer scrubbed a hand through his hair. Shuichi sat up and pulled himself into a ball, hugging his knees. "I just want…"

"No." Shu turned away as Eiri sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and getting to his feet, almost stumbling with the results of their earlier love-making.

"Shuichi," Eiri called, worried, "Wait."

"NO!"

Shuichi limped over to the foot of the bed and plucked up his underwear, cringing when a dribble of wetness made its way from his bottom and started down his thigh. He paused to wipe at it, ignoring Eiri. The writer grabbed up his earlier discarded shirt, not caring about the risk of stains. He bent to his knees and carefully wiped the mess away, aware that Shu held very still as he moved. Glancing up, he saw the tears on his lover's face,

"You don't understand," Shu murmured, crying quietly. "And I don't want you to. You said I have the control, that I am the one who gets to--"

"Don't," he interrupted, panic shooting through him

Swallowing, Shuichi steeled himself, "You said that I get to choose when--"

"Please." Oh Gods, no.

"But you said--"

"Don't end this because I want to get closer," Eiri snarled softly. Fear swept over him, he couldn't move.

"I'm ending it before you do!" the singer argued, tossing his soiled underwear aside and pulling away from Eiri. He turned for his suitcase, saying, "You asked me and I refused, but you're still pushing me!"

"It's been weeks, won't you even consider letting me in on what this is all about?" Following right on Shu's heels, Eiri had begun to breathe fire. After everything, all he had given. He didn't know what else he could do! It's not like he knew what Shu wanted from him… Gods, Tohma's words rang in his head; the deadline.

"Time passing was not part of the deal!" Shuichi yelled as he bent to rummage for new boxers. "You told me you would be content with whatever I could give you, and this is not in my comfort zone!" He stood and glared, waving the article of clothing before him as he gesticulated. "This is all out of control. Out of my control!"

"Sometimes, it's not about control, Shuichi!" Eiri refused to beg. Instead, he snapped, "There comes a time you have to turn things over to someone else!"

"And that would require trust!" Eiri started, hurt though he said nothing. Realising what he had implied, the singer shook his head, backing away, "I didn't--"

"I deserve that," the writer admitted, voice quieting. "But I don't think I deserve to be pushed away."

"Yeah, you should have the right to move away of your own accord," the singer sighed.

Shuichi turned away and began to dress, Eiri remaining still and puzzled. He watched until Shu was fully clothed, not sure what to say, not finding words he could say. Shu passed by him and he reached out, catching the signer off guard and pulled Shuichi close. The kid snuggled a little, pressing a nose into Eiri's bare shoulder; the writer was still naked. He could find no words, wanting, for the Gods knew how many times, for time to stop and leave them both together like this. Shu's tears slid onto his shoulder and a few slipped down his chest. Pain, Gods Shuichi seemed to be in so much of it and he felt powerless. He curled, slouching over the small figure in his arms.

Softly, Eiri murmured, "Don't leave like this."

"There is no other way…" Gods, Eiri thought with dry humour, this was all so dramatic and cliché. Shu continued, "You have to let me go."

"I promised you--"

"I'm the one leaving you," And yet Shu cringed at his own words. "You're not breaking your promise."

"Shuichi," Eiri called softly, a barely discernible plea in his voice.

"At least you're still alive." Pulling completely away, Shuichi went over to his duffle and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. He made for the door then pulled it open. As he stepped out into the hall he finished softly to himself, on a voice so low Eiri was certain he hadn't been meant to hear, "And I'm already dead."

--