There were times when Hiroshi Nakano hated his life. There were times when, despite his success and his long-standing friendship with Shuichi Shindou, Hiro wanted to walk away from everything related to the singer and to the band. Success had come with a high price for him. Hiro had lost touch with his parents and his chances of a relationship with Ayaka because of Bad Luck's success, and Shuichi . . . well, his best friend's flair for theatrics could drive even the Buddha himself towards insanity.

When he felt like he could take no more of the screaming and adoring fans and Shuichi's bull-shit, Hiro always came close to promising himself he would leave. He would simply vanish and start a new life somewhere else with a new name and everything. There were times when he laid down at night where he told himself he would give everything up and just leave. He would sell his apartment and whatever he could not carry with him, and he would disappear. No one would know where he was because not let another soul in on his plans because his emptiness and desolation ran so deep, he felt he needed escape.

Today had been one of those days where the emptiness and desolation had nearly overwhelmed him, and Shuichi had not even been in the studio. Rather, Hiro had dealt with K, Sakano-san, and Suguru, and it had been mentally and emotionally exhausting. K had wanted to hunt Shuichi down, shoot and drag him to work while Sakano-san had pleaded with the American to not do anything drastic. Meanwhile, Suguru had been righteously angry with Bad Luck's vocalist for not bothering to show up for work. Shuichi had not even called in sick. Because of the insanity surrounding him, Hiro had almost walked out then and never looked back.

Almost.

Something had told him to stay, however, and attempt to calm the Bad Luck team down. Something always told him to stay, he always did, and now he sat on his sofa, staring at the clock. The hour and minute hands were closing in on midnight, and Hiro remained awake. He could not sleep, even light of the late hour. He felt restless, agitated even, and Hiro could not say why.

Where had Shuichi been all day? There had been times when the singer had disappeared for a day or two, maybe a week at the longest, but Shuichi always called. Shuichi always let someone know if he was not going to be around. This unusual silence on his best friend's part . . . Hiro disliked it, and he felt he had a good reason for it.

A knock on his door brought Hiro out of his musings, and he rose to his feet without even thinking. Only Shuichi arrived at his apartment in the dead of the night, and Hiro knew what to expect. Another fight with Eiri, tears streaming from violet-blue eyes, and a request to sleep over for the night were what Hiro expected.

Instead, an aquamarine gaze greeted Hiro as he opened his apartment door, not amethyst. Hiro blinked in surprise at seeing his boss standing there. Tohma's expression was one of sadness and determination.

"Nakano-san, did I wake you?"

"No . . ." Hiro shook his head.

"Good." The blond turned his head and motioned at someone down the hall. Then Tohma glanced at him once more, and a sensation like ice stole along Hiro's spine. Something was not right.

"Seguchi-san, what's going on?" he asked. "Why are you here? It's in the middle of the night!"

"Eiri and Shindou-san need a place to stay for a few days," Tohma replied.

"What?!"

"You will understand in a moment."

Hiro stepped forward, wanting to see his best friend and his lover, but he found himself being pushed back inside by Tohma. He opened his mouth to say something more, a protest of some kind, but Hiro immediately fell silent. Eiri had stepped into view, half-holding and half-dragging a nearly asleep Shuichi. The novelist sported a nasty bruise over his right eye and a white gauze bandage on his left cheek while Shuichi's forehead and wrists were covered in the same material. Both looked like they had gone through hell.

Without asking any further questions, Hiro let the three in, watching as Eiri guided Shuichi over to the sofa. The door closed behind them then the guitarist entered his kitchen to make some tea. They were in for a long night, but one thing Hiro understood for certain. He would never abandon his best friend, not now, not ever. Friends did that for each other.