Chapter Four
Tohma was never really one to tell you his most…personal issues. He kept his private life extraordinarily secret, despite fame and numerous paparazzi butting into his life. He hardly ever got himself into untimely or distasteful situations. He did not ever gain a bad reputation. His reputation was known for not being messed with.
Mess with him, he'll mess with you. And win.
His multi-million dollar corporation for talent: NG Studios, his multiple platinum edition records, C-D's, concert tapes, and live video recordings. His kick-ass estate on the edge of Tokyo (which screamed security) and his cool temper, calm demeanor, and scarily truthful and angelic smile always seemed to bring him everything. A sense of demanded respect that spoke volumes. You didn't disrespect him directly. And the last idiot, who tried to manipulate Tohma's power in their interests, got pushed in front of a moving car.
Taki Aizawa was fine. Are you kidding me? Seguchi wasn't a murderer… at least not yet.
But all this would make most corporate suits tremble. All this would make every grown man eerily meek. All this should make a hyperactive pink-haired teenage rock star fawn in admiration and go rigid at just the mention of Tohma Seguchi's name.
But…no. It just made the idiot pissed.
The oak doors slammed into their adjacent walls revealing the aura that was Shindo. His hair was flapping into his eyes, the purple color flashing dangerously. He lent against the door, panting in a split second of vulnerability, but popped back up again with all the bitterness and anger clearly visible in his unbending posture and stiff steps. He held a small envelope in his hands and as he walked, he fiddled with it, twirling it between his fingers, creasing the edges in his vain attempt to slowly wear it down to dust. Shuichi smiled as he slammed the parcel and its contents down with a large smack on Tohma desk. He smiled even wider when Tohma jumped with bewilderment.
"You, Tohma Seguchi, have fucked with me for the last time."
Silence. A chilled response.
"For years you've toyed with my mind and heart and played me like a puppet on strings. Countless times I trusted my whole life to you, my job, my love, my personal aspects, even the interest of my money. And you, sir, have fucked it all up good. You have twirled Yuki around your little finger, and even though he has you by the heart-strings, you mess with his relationships."
"Mr. Shindo…"
Not to be deterred, Shuichi waved him off and continued ranting. "You have made sure, personally, that he always had the best. In return, for being his fucking lover, my whole future was served to me on a silver platter. I didn't want it like that!"
"Mr. Shindo…"
"I wanted my own life to work out. If music hadn't done the trick, I'd find other ways. But you… you! This is it. My last string of tolerance has been breached."
"Mr. Shindo…"
"What?" Shuichi snapped, flinging his head to the side with a sharp motion.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
... Oh.
He was in for it.
Shuichi's purple eyes almost melded themselves into a deep and vibrant plum color. They widened, flashed, and seemed to lock onto Tohma's own teal gems like targets. They had a silent staring match, and the whole world… no, the universe, stopped breathing as Shuichi Shindo (probably the biggest teenage moron that ever lived) did the unthinkable.
He slapped Tohma Seguchi, right across the cheek.
The President took it rather well at first. His face was naturally turned to one side, the impact leaving a slowly darkening red mark across his porcelain face. He didn't move. Nor speak. He almost seemed to freeze, whether in disbelief or in anger… had yet to be decided.
"Stay out of it." Shuichi whispered dangerously.
He turned to go, leaving the envelope purposely behind for Tohma to find and read. As he placed his palm upon the handle of the door, his name was called, so quietly he almost didn't catch it.
"Mr. Shindo."
Shuichi turned, stared, trembled. Tohma was standing now, right over the desk, hunched forward with his face cast in shadow. The mark on his face was outlined with Shuichi's hand print. With the small and saintly smile that haunted Taki Aizawa's dreams, he spoke in the same bare whisper.
"Have a nice day."
End-1
A/N: Why is Shuichi so mad. Stick around to find out! Sorry about the long wait, stuff just happens ya know? Anyway, please let me know what you think.