AN: I want to thank my wonderful reviewers.
Special thanks to Acherona, who is the reader that analyses this story the most and inspires me to write more realistic.
I'd like to thank to Fluffyfangirl89, sun's and stars, The Girl Obsessed With Yaoi, Kiramita Kitsune, and others that I forgot to mention. You're my greatest support and I have no words to describe how much your comments mean to me.
Warning: A little bit of political themes. Don't pay too much attention to that, I use it for comparison.
--
Disrespect, underestimation, and all of his other 'sins' were haunting him.
After the encounter with Shuichi, he took one bottle of vodka and drank it in one go, on the empty stomach.
He knew very well what Tohma would say if he saw him in that state. He would say that he was giving up too easily and that drinking after every failure never did any good. And he knew that his best friend and brother-in-law would be absolutely right.
But it was too easy to escape this horrid reality by drinking one bottle of that delicious venom. It was easier to escape than to fight. Just a couple of hours of precious numbness and oblivion. Those were only things to keep him in life-numbness and oblivion.
He'd think about everything the next day. Or he'd get drunk again.
What was the purpose of it all, when God gives you something so valuable and you shoo it away carelessly just because you're one dumb ass that has PTSD? Eiri didn't have a clue.
He understood Shuichi. How could the guy give in after all what had happened between them? Deep inside, he was admiring him because it was obvious that the singer had had a hard on then, when Eiri had jumped him, yet he had done nothing about it. He had denied the writer, even lying he hadn't wanted sex.
Shuichi had gone to hell back there, and Eiri was feeling guilty. Knowing that he was the cause of Shuichi's sorrow, his apathy, he knew that he must never see the, once hyper and bouncy singer, again. It would be easier for both of them. Shuichi would sing and he would become even greater superstar than he already was. And Eiri would drink until his liver stops functioning at last.
It would be the best outcome for both of them, for who needs the grumpy sex symbol that has no purpose in this world. His novels are worthless piles of words.
That moment, suicide looked like a pretty good option. But it would be too pathetic.
--
He collapsed on his comfortable bed, letting the tears stream down his face. It didn't matter anymore, his pride, his grumpiness, nothing at all. Because he was no one.
But if he loved Shuichi, he mustn't have allowed himself to give up that easily. The wounds haven't healed yet and he knew that the singer was now very upset, and he didn't want to cause him more pain.
On the other hand, if he loved Shuichi, it would be better if he fought more. And he needed help from reluctant Nakano, who disliked him very much.
But if he recognized the true love, he'd have to fight for it, to step on his pride and his harsh principles.
There wasn't space for self-pitying, depression, vodka or any other alcoholic drink.
Deeds were the ones that would prove his love.
So he stopped crying and drifted off somewhere far away in his head, silently promising himself that after he goes through the hangover, he'd do something about 'Shu' situation.
He couldn't bear loneliness anymore.
The fact that he hadn't found another person(s) instead of Shuichi, that he had been all alone since then, was indicating that the beautiful and eccentric Uesugi (Yuki) Eiri has matured at the age of 29.
--
His hair was spread all over the black satin pillow, as he moaned in pleasure. His eyes were firmly shut, his face muscles in some kind of spasm. His breathing was uneven and fast. The sweat drops were streaming down his face and body, as he was gripping the hair of one head tightly. The head was between his legs, moving rhythmically back and forth, slowly, then fast, then slowly again.
The tongue was sliding up and down the smooth skin of his cock and he was enjoying every moment.
His thoughts were random and he couldn't gather them. His entire being was under alert. Gentle touches were gracing his flesh. The palms were tender, the fingers were teasing him and he was smiling slightly, regretting he gave in once again.
As he came into the mouth of another, he just bit his lower lip, not allowing the moan to escape his lungs.
The blonde head popped up, smiling as the skillful tongue licked his sperm stained lips.
"Are you still infuriated?" his blonde asked, smiling lovingly.
"Yes." he whispered, "But I'm too tired to beat you up." Hiro said.
Tohma chuckled, kissing the red head softly.
"I apologize for what I've done. But I thought that the lyrics would finally open Eiri's eyes."
"Eiri came there and he hurt Shu again. This time, Shuichi didn't have tears to cry, Tohma. He's in bad condition."
"I know. I screwed up." admitted the blonde, "Why are they sentenced on sorrow?"
"Because it was not meant to be." Hiro sighed, closing his tired eyes.
After the short silence, Tohma spoke.
"What about us?"
"There is no 'us' " he said and fell asleep in Tohma's embrace.
The owner of NG just stared at nothing particular, drowning in his own apathy, knowing that the one blowjob would change nothing.
"I'd been ashamed of me, not you." he whispered.
He remained sleepless that night.
--
Flashback
Hiro infuriately stormed into Tohma's apartment, without knocking. The blonde was stunned, yet he was expecting something like that.
He let Hiro punch him, and then he was yelling some random shit about Shuichi and Tohma couldn't quite understand what Hiro was saying.
His thoughts were so confusing, in the burning rage, he was just punching and yelling.
He set all his frustrations free, on poor Tohma that was receiving punch after punch.
In the end, Hiro began to stutter, completely exhausted, desperate. He was fed up with Shuichi's problems, overwhelmed by his own personal and professional problems.
He fell to his knees like a drama queen of the century and Tohma was standing there, looking at him from above with those big, confused eyes.
The next thing he remembered was that they were making out on the floor. In the end, they crawled to the bed, undressing each other in a big rush.
Then the guitarist realized that the best sexual interactions were happening after great fights.
But he wasn't ready to forgive Tohma. He would become the lowest of the low if he forgave.
End flashback
--
There were worse things. His situation was nothing when you compare it to the problems of the others.
For example, there was war nine years ago in one country named Yugoslavia, in the south-eastern Europe. It had been bombed by seventeen other countries and he had been watching the breaking news.
Thousands of terrified children, women and men. Young men that had to go and die for their fatherland.
Mothers that remained without their sons. Wives that remained without their husbands. Daughters that remained without their fathers. Girls that remained without their brothers. Etcetera.
He could see those faces, and the three year old girl that had been killed by a bomb on the potty during one of the air attacks.
And that war, fortunately, had ceased. But the scars in the souls of the people never faded.
Many of them were having PTSD now, just like him. Many of them remained without a single thing in this crazy world.
But many other wars occurred in other countries years after.
And people that were fighting against the cancer and were losing the battle.
All of that was worse than his problem.
It was one stupid love problem, who doesn't have that kind of problem?
But somehow, he couldn't get over it. Not in a million years.
For him, it looked like he survived all those wars, all those cancers and alcoholic fathers.
Unnecessary exaggeration, pathetic like Mexican soaps that were poisoning brains of the bored housewives all over the world.
Eiri fell on the very bottom.
He was living day after day, unable to move from his comfy bed with silky sheets.
He was born to write about stupid emotions that he wasn't sure he himself possessed. That was his cursed destiny, to live like a parasite and there were greater goals he could dedicate to. If only he had a strength.
The phone rang the third day and he could hear the hoarse and sad voice on the other side.
It was the invitation for new negotiations between two torn lovers.
Shuichi finally collected courage to face with his demons.
--
The pink haired man hung up, trying to slow the paces of his tired young heart.
He had invited Eiri to some neutral territory, somewhere where he wouldn't be able to avoid answers and where Shuichi couldn't make drama.
That was the good step.
That was his moment, where he'd spit into his face whatever he had to say to him. And after that, he was hoping that it would be finally over, that he would cut the bonds that were keeping them connected through dreams, books, songs…
He desperately needed to move on. Otherwise, he would commit such stupidity. Maybe it would be suicide or another song. Maybe he wouldn't be able to sing again. For Eiri was his entity.
Shuichi was a guy, as we all know. But he just couldn't sleep with another person. Even after Eiri had shooed him away, he couldn't stop being 'faithful'.
It would be face to face now.
It would be their final encounter. And Shuichi was afraid. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to leave it all behind, that he would make up with Eiri and be screwed up again.
Eiri was his death.
--
Hiro woke up in Tohma's embrace.
Tohma was looking at him affectionately, caressing his arm.
Hiro smiled.
Tohma smiled back.
"I want a date with you. One official date, with holding hands and kissing. I want to show you off and say: 'This is my boyfriend, Nakano Hiroshi' "
"Yeah, right." snorted Hiro, "As if that's gonna happen. Just like the previous times." he stood up from the bed, looking for his clothes. "Just like when you used to hold my hand in abandoned alleys and drop it when we reach the ones full of people."
He pulled on the pants, all of that in demonstrative manner, speaking bitterly. "I don't need that again. I'm not the one whose heart you could break over and over again."
Their love was like silent anathema.
"It's not like that, Hiro." Tohma stood up, blocking him the exit. "I won't let you go."
"I don't care. I'll quit playing in the band if I have to."
"No, you can't quit!"
"I can do whatever I want." Hiro shoved Tohma aside, rushing to the door.
--
TBC…?