-Chapter 2 – Tell the Truth-
Lesson #2- You have to learn to share your secrets. Don't lie to the people you love; something bad might happen. Come out, and tell it.
Shuichi stayed silent to the question, covering his head up with the sheets.
"I know you're awake, idiot." The elder walked closer, but he still kept silent. "Damn it, Shuichi! Answer me!" Quickly, he pulled back the sheets, only to reveal one of the boy's many costumes. "…What the—?" The blond cursed, throwing the banana out of the bed.
"…Like I said…I'm sorry, Yuki…" Shuichi whispered up to the window of their bedroom, before rushing into the darkness of night; only the streetlights to guide his way.
"Huh…?" The redhead looked up to a sound at his door. "Who could that be at this time?" Sighing, he reluctantly got up from the couch, answering the door.
"Hiro…" The singer looked up to his guitarist. "…Can I stay here for a while?"
"Shuichi," He sighed again, pulling him and closing the door. "Of course you can stay here, man."
"Thanks, Hiro…It's only for a while, I promise."
"What's going on, Shuichi?" Hiro walked closer to him, making the pink-haired one back into the wall. "Did you and Yuki get in another fight?"
"N-no, Hiro. It's…not like that at all." He smiled a bit. "But, he will be angry at me when I go back."
"Damn it, Shuichi…" Hiro sighed again. "I'll give you a max of four days, Ok?"
"Ok, Hiro-kun."
"You can sleep on the couch. Cause' I doubt you'd want to sleep with me…"
"Well, right now I could use a bit of company anyways…"
"…Get some sleep. We'll talk about this in the morning." Hiro walked off to his room to sleep, leaving Shindou to the couch.
"Ugh…I'm not going to get any sleep!" Shu grumbled into the couch cushion; despite what he said, he fell asleep anyways.
The next morning, Hiro had to literally drag Shuichi out of bed in order to get him to work.
"Hiro! I don't want to go to work today!" He clung tight to the doorknob of the apartment.
"I don't care if you don't want to! You have to!" He pulled on the boy's feet.
"But, Hiro!"
"No buts!" He pulled harder.
"But, Sakuma-san is going to be there!!" With that, Hiro let go of the other's feet, making him drop to the ground.
"What's so bad about Sakuma? You idolize him don't you?" Hiroshi helped the smaller male off the floor.
"But…he's the reason I ran away from Yuki's place…"
The taller male paused, looking down to the other.
"…What do you mean by that, Shuichi?"
"I mean—" He stopped, turning down the hall, and walking away. "…I don't know what I mean…"
The whole way to the N-G building, Shuichi didn't say a word to Hiro; he just clung tight to the other's back, as the motorcycle sped down the highway.
"Shuichi." Hiro snapped the singer out of wonderland. "Let go, so I can get off, man."
"Oh…sorry, Hiro. I didn't realize we'd stopped." Letting go of the other, he took off the helmet, and sluggishly got off the bike.
"Hurry up, or we'll be late again." The taller one pulled Shu along. "I don't want K shooting at me again…"
("Ugh…I don't care anymore. Just shoot me and get it over with already.")
"Hiro, I can walk." He jerked his arm free from the other male's grip. "You don't have to drag me."
"Uhh…ok, no need to get physical." Hiro frowned. "I'll meet you in the room later, I got to take a leak."
"…Ok, Hiro." Shuichi knew he was lying; he knew he had upset him again. So far, his day was going horrible. Bad morning, Bad workday, on the verge of losing his best friend; all because of his stupid secret.
By the time he entered the conference room, everyone was there, including Hiroshi; he looked pissed…
"Uhm, sorry I'm late." He grinned. "Traffic in the halls, hehe."
"Just take a seat, Shindou. We have important concert issues to talk about." Claude waved a hand, and yawned. The boy did so, reclining back in his chair.
"Psst, Shuichi…" Hiro slid a folded piece of paper over to him. Opening it he read:
"Shuichi, what's your deal, man? You've been moody since you woke up! There's something you're not telling me…Meet me by the bike after work. I Mean It."
Sighing, he folded the note back up, and stuffed it in his pant's pocket.
Later, and as said in the paper, he met the redhead by the motorcycle.
"Good, you came."
"Why wouldn't I? Shu sighed, sitting on the bike.
"Because you're keeping a secret. I thought you wouldn't come." The taller male stood there, looking down at the smaller one.
"You know me too well, Hiro." The boy smiled to himself, twiddling his fingers.
"Well, we have been best friends since the beginning of High School." He smiled, taking a seat next to him. "Now…tell me what's going on."
"Do I have to? Cause' it's kind of complicated…" The boy kept his gaze to his feet; his fingers still busy.
"Yes, you have to." Hiro wrapped an arm around Shuichi's shoulders. "Besides, you know me. I can keep secrets."
"…O-ok…" He took a deep breath, before silently continuing. "I…I don't want to be with Yuki anymore…I'm such a whore for saying this but, I love someone else…"
"…Kind of figured you'd say that." Hiro unwrapped his arm and stood back up. "It's him isn't it? Ryuichi?"
"…Yeah…" Frustrated, he sighed. "Hiro! I don't know what to do! How do I…how do I tell Yuki?"
"That's your issue to deal with, Shuichi." Hiro stuffed his helmet on, and handed the other one to Shu. "But, I do suggest you talk to Yuki before you talk to Ryuichi."
"Yeah…Thanks, Hiro…" He put the pink helmet on, and grabbed a hold of Hiro's waist. "I'll…I'll tell him tonight…"
"…Good luck, Shu." Sighing, Hiro started up the bike, driving it out of the parking garage, and down the highway.
Shuichi had fallen asleep by the time they reached Eiri's apartment; Hiro carried him inside.
"He's your's now…" Hiro stood in the doorway, the tall blond looking over him. "He's had a bit of a rough day, so be easy on him."
"…Yeah, yeah. " The novelist took the pink-haired one from the other. "Thanks for bringing him home…" With that, the door closed behind the breaking couple, leaving the guitarist to his bike.
Eiri, being slightly buzzed, and very busy on his new novel, left the Shindou boy on the couch. It wasn't for about an hour later he awoke again.
"…Huh?" He sat up, looking around. "When did I get here? …Why am I here?!" Quickly, he hopped up off the couch. "Damn it Hiro! I thought you said I had four day!!"
"What The Hell Are You Yelling About, Damn Brat?!"
"…Oh yeah, Yuki's here…" Silently, he skittered to the back room, peeking his head through the office door. "Y…Yuki, we…we need to talk…"
"About what…?" The elder didn't look over; his gaze was fixated on the computer screen, his fingers typing away.
"About us…"
"Us?" He still typed.
"Well, you know…us as a couple." The boy kept his gaze down; away from the piercing golden orbs of his lover, who was now turned toward him; the sound of keys ceased. The blond was silent. "Uhm…" taking a deep breath, he winced. "I…I can't see you anymore! I can't take it any longer!"
"…Shu—" He reached out to grab a hold of the boy's hand.
"Shush! I'm tired of listening to you insult me! I'm tired of having to constantly reassure myself that you love me! I'm tired of…I'm tired of you!" He stopped, catching his breath. "…I'm leaving…" with that, he turned around, walking to the bedroom to pack his things.
Shocked, and hurt, Eiri followed after him, barging into the room.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Reaching over, he started to unpack the singer's things. "Don't do this."
"Don't do this? Well, too bad! I'm doping it anyways!" He tossed a filled suitcase to the hall.
"Shuichi, please don't do this! I…I love you, Shuichi!" He got down on his knees; his eyes filled with tears, but he didn't allow them to fall.
"You…you love me?! It's a bit too late to say that now, don't you think!" Dragging a bag out, he gabbed the suitcase from the hall, and headed for the door.
"I…I'm sorry, Shuichi!" Again, he got down to his knees. "Please…please don't leave me…I'm begging you…" Finally, in the two-and-a-half years they've been together, he cried. It wasn't loud, like the cries of the singer; it was soft and silent, but loud enough to tell it was tears, not laughter.
The singer looked down to the elder, the bag on his shoulder, and the suitcase in one hand; his eyes filled.
"…I'm sorry, Yuki." He let a small, empathetic smile slide, as he walked out the door. He left the man on his knees, soft tears falling past a pair of clear glass, and to the wooden floors below.
The boy cried as he gently straddled the bike, and rode off with the guitarist.
It had been told, and it hurt…
The truth always hurts…
Always…always crying…