He *knew* he had some cigarettes around here somewhere, dammit.
Yuki took his hand off the mouse and looked around his work area, brow creasing ever so slightly in frustration. He cast an eye back toward the monitor--he'd hit a particularly nasty snag in his story, couldn't figure out what to write next; the main character's girlfriend had just had her house broken into, and he couldn't decide whether she should be messily stabbed or not. That was frustrating enough in itself; but lately it was happening a lot more often, so he'd made it a point to keep some cigarettes lying around. Last he'd checked, he'd had at least four. He hadn't smoked them, Shuuichi certainly hadn't smoked them, and they hadn't grown legs and walked off themselves. So where the hell *were* they?
He growled and bent low to look in his drawers. Paper, paper, rubber bands, a pick--He picked that last item up and inspected it. One eyebrow crept up his forehead. It had teethmarks in it; so it was probably Shuuichi's, since he tended to chew on random things when he got bored. How it had gotten stuffed in his desk, mixed in among paper and ink and pencils, he didn't really want to know. Yuki tossed it back in the desk and closed it with a satisfying bang. His desk shook. He stood up, pushed his chair away from him with his foot, and wandered into the kitchen for a beer.
He picked up a saltine cracker along the way and was munching on that when he opened the refrigerator door. He blinked, then looked harder to make sure his vision hadn't blurred or something. But no, his eyes were fine; there was just no beer in his fridge. Yuki swallowed the cracker with a loud noise, and slammed the refrigerator door shut with an even louder noise. He cursed pungently and threw the package of crackers into the trash.
Yuki was an intelligent man, not to mention a naturally suspicious one, and it wasn't that long ago that *he'd* been nineteen (going on twenty, as Shuuichi reminded him so often). So it didn't really take that much figuring to guess what was going on here. His doctor had been telling him for weeks that he should give up cigarettes and beer, but by now it was more of a reflex than anything, since he knew Yuki wouldn't. Taking the prescription, that was about the limit of what he'd do for himself. He'd been stupid enough to take Shuuichi with him on his last appointment. He'd thought Shuuichi had been dozing near the end of it, but apparently not; Shuuichi had probably heard the doctor, realized that Yuki was not going to do what the doctor told him to, and taken matters into his own hands.
He was long past the point of really analyzing why he put up with Shuuichi's crap anymore, but the thought did pass his mind.
Yuki realized he was chewing his fingernail, and took his finger out of his mouth with a grimace. *That* was one habit he definitely didn't want to cultivate.
So. He didn't have beer, and he didn't have cigarettes, and the only person who knew where they had gotten off to wasn't going to be home for another ten or so hours. Yuki considered his choices. Stay inside and work on the story without beer and cigarettes, or go outside into freezing weather, scrape ice and snow off his car, and drive to a general store.
He ground his teeth and went to find his keys.
He didn't have that much money on him, so he had to settle for some cheap beer and even cheaper cigarettes, non-menthol. He stood in line and reflected that Shuuichi was definitely in for it this evening, and would possibly be sleeping on the couch for the next few days. The thought gave him some comfort, and he managed a curt smile at the cashier who rang up his purchases.
"Paper or plastic, sir?" she asked him.
Yuki glanced at her nametag, which had bright red letters--IN TRAINING--printed over it. *Hi, I'm Ayumi.* "Plastic," he said. Their hands brushed as he handed her money. He noticed that she had a slight flush on her cheeks, but decided it was from the cold.
"Have a nice New Year, sir," she called after him as he left.
Yuki blinked, nonplussed. New Year's already? He consulted his mental calendar, which he mostly kept track of based around Shuuichi. Let's see, Shuuichi had performed Friday, and that had been the day before yesterday. So, yes... it was New Year's. Amazing. Seemed like it'd been Christmas just a few days ago. Well, it *had* been, but it seemed like it'd been a lot sooner. He hated Christmas. Opening all those damn packages and pretending you liked them... All the false pretenses and pleasant frivolities.... He jerked open his car door, harsher than he usually was with it, and slid inside, wincing at how cold the leather seats were.
He turned on the ignition and decided to let it warm up a bit before he started back home. He fished around in the bag for the cigarettes and pulled them out, digging his fingernail into the top of the package and ripping open the plastic paper. He took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, then lit it, closing his eyes as he inhaled two lungfuls of smoke and nicotine.
He opened his eyes, happened to look at his window, and jumped as far as he was able in the car as a shock of pink hair and wide doe eyes confronted him.
"YU~KI!"
Breathe, Yuki, he instructed himself, slumping against the back of his seat. Breathe. Twisting around, he rolled down the window and gave Shuuichi what he hoped was a particularly venomous look.
"What," he snapped, "in the hell are you doing here?"
Shuuichi simpered at him. "Yuki!" he squealed. "Isn't this cool? I'm on break, Hiro and I were out here just getting some candy, and I thought I saw your car, but I thought, wow, Yuki wouldn't come here, would he? But you did! Lucky I caught you, I guess you were almost about to go home--"
Yuki took out his cigarette, and tilted his head slightly as he exhaled. He wasn't cruel enough to blow that much smoke directly into Shuuichi's face. Still, Shuuichi coughed and wrinkled his nose. "Yes," he said shortly. "I was. And I could, if you would get off my car." He looked past Shuuichi but didn't see Bad Luck's bassist. "Where is Hiro?"
Shuuichi shrugged. "Still in the store. In line. The lines are long, you know. Well, of course you know, you were just in there. Anyway, I thought I'd tell you that I won't be home till around twelve tonight--I *thought* we were gonna be done sooner, but Suguru wants to practice more. He says my voice can't get some of the notes right in our new song." He rolled his eyes. "What does *he* know."
"All right, whatever," Yuki interrupted. "I won't wait up for you. I'm tired. I might have some Chinese or something, though, so I'll leave it out for you." He started rolling the window back up. "All right?"
"Yuki, wait!"
Sighing, he did. "What?"
Shuuichi smiled at him, then leaned in and kissed him. He was probably aiming for Yuki's mouth, but it landed more around his chin. "Love you," he said happily, then waved vigorously. "Bye! See you tonight! Don't overwork yourself, and go to bed as soon as you feel tired!"
Yuki rolled up the window.
By nine o'clock that night, the main hero's girlfriend was dead.
Yuki added a few finishing touches to the death scene, which the hero just happened to witness--tender (if somewhat bloody) caresses, declarations of undying love, stuff of that sort--before saving it and shutting down his computer. He stared at the monitor for a while, smoking idly on a cigarette. This one was coming around rather nicely; it would get rave reviews. The sap lovers would praise the love scenes, of course, which he had made particularly detailed this time, and his critics would rant about the violent sex and random gore. There really was no need to have killed off the girlfriend, and they would jump on that immediately. People like that didn't understand that sometimes, things like that happened, and it wasn't part of any literary formula.
For some reason, his mind strayed back to the tooth-marked pick in his desk, and he looked at his watch. Shuuichi wouldn't be back for a while. The Chinese was already cold in the kitchen, and the microwave had broken down this morning. Not that it mattered--Shuuichi would eat anything cold if he was really hungry. It was disgusting, sometimes. Pizza, Yuki could see eating cold, but the clam chowder soup had been too much. He'd honestly thought Shuuichi would throw it up, but he'd been as bouncy as ever after eating it.
Absently, Yuki thought about the fact that his toes were cold. He glanced at the thermostat. It was probably sixty degrees or so. Well, his toes could stand it for a while longer--Shuuichi would crank it up to eighty when he got home.
He dozed for an hour without meaning to, then smoked another cigarette after waking up. Then he decided he was hungry, and went to the kitchen to investigate. He didn't know what all he had; Shuuichi had gone grocery shopping a few days ago, and since he tended to buy whatever caught his fancy, there was always something new. This time it was about twenty packages of strawberry and chocolate Pocky. Yuki admitted to having a bit of a weakness for Pocky--Touma was the only one who knew, and made it a point to send him some on his birthday. Last year it had been vanilla... Yuki pulled out a few sticks and chewed on them as he made his way to his bedroom, stepping deftly over books and piles of dirty clothes. He discarded his shirt on a chair along the way, but kept his pants on; they were close enough to boxers that they were comfortable to sleep in. He finished the Pocky, then eyed his bathroom and decided he'd better take a quick shower before he went to bed.
Once he got in the shower, though, the heat seduced him, and he shampooed his hair and shaved before getting out. Good thing, too, he decided, running a hand over his jaw--he'd been getting stubbly. The cactus-feel appealed to some men, but not to him, and not to smooth-faced Shuuichi either. Not that he cared whether or not Shuuichi liked it. *He* didn't like it. Yuki nodded to himself around a mouthful of toothpaste. When he dropped into bed at last, his mouth tasted like Aquafresh, which was an improvement over the cigarette taste.
He was soundly asleep when the bed sank with someone else's weight, and a cold body pressed close to his. Yuki stirred, brow coming together, but didn't wake.
"*Yuki*...." crooned the someone in his bed, voice surprisingly soft and mellifluous for how annoying it usually was.
Yuki rolled over and pressed his pillow over his ears.
"YUki...." Now the voice sounded more like Shuuichi; loud and annoying.
Yuki swatted at him, and heard an 'ow' as his hand hit what felt like Shuuichi's face.
"Yuki, come *on*, it's New Year's, don't you want to watch the ball drop?"
"No," Yuki grumbled.
Shuuichi's hands slid down his back and settled on either side of his waist. "Come on," he said again. "It's 2002. Don't you want to watch? *Please*?"
Yuki sighed. "You're not going to let me sleep, are you?"
"No."
"Fine." He sat up, blinking hard, and ran a hand through his still-damp and tousled hair. He looked over at Shuuichi, who looked near bursting from happiness. Yuki sighed and got out of bed. "Well, then," he said, holding out a hand to Shuuichi, "let's watch the damned ball drop." He paused. "What time is it?"
"Eleven fifty-two," Shuuichi said, following him into the main room.
Yuki sat cross-legged on the couch and 'hmm'ed. He pulled out his cigarettes from his pocket and put one in his mouth, pressing it between his lips as he searched for a lighter. "Cut it close, didn't you?"
Shuuichi beamed at him. "I chewed Suguru out. He wanted to keep me past twelve, but I told him if he didn't let me go home to be with you, I'd kick him out of the band."
Yuki shifted so that Shuuichi could sit next to him, resting his hand on Shuuichi's pink hair as Shuuichi stretched out the length of the couch. He lit his cigarette and turned on the television to a news channel. "Would you have?"
"No, but he believed me." Shuuichi looked pleased with himself.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the television with the volume on low. Yuki looked down, and was startled when he saw that his hand was stroking Shuuichi's hair and cheek--he didn't remember starting that. He almost smiled; Shuuichi's eyes were drifting shut, his mouth was falling open, and there was a little bit of drool on his cheek. He kneed him gently in the jaw. "You woke me up for this," he admonished when Shuuichi blinked drowsily at him. "You're not falling asleep."
Shuuichi yawned and wiped his mouth. "Sorry. I'm tired."
"The human whirlwind, tired?" Yuki turned his head to the side and puffed. He stroked Shuuichi's bottom lip, gently. "I'm amazed."
"It's been a long year." Shuuichi sounded uncharacteristically sober.
Yuki started to speak, but the announcers on television beat him to it. "And now it's ten seconds to the new year!" one of them said, sounding genuinely excited.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
"I love you, Yuki," Shuuichi murmured, kissing his fingers.
Yuki didn't reply, just kept stroking Shuuichi's face. He got to the end of his cigarette and put it out, one-handed, on the coffee table.
"Two!"
"One!"
"Happy New Year!"
Confetti exploded everywhere, a shower of pink and white and purple and orange and green. Shuuichi sat up and scooted into his lap, resting his head in the crook of Yuki's shoulder, a warm and heavy weight on Yuki's legs. Absently, Yuki raised one arm and wrapped it around Shuuichi's waist.
"Shuuichi," he said suddenly. "Did you throw away my beer?"
Shuuichi pulled back a little so that he was looking into Yuki's face. Even if he had lied, Yuki would have been able to tell; the guilty expression on his face gave him away. But he nodded.
"And my cigarettes?"
Again, Shuuichi nodded.
"Hmm." Yuki looked past him, at the television. "I was thinking of cutting down. New Year's resolution and all."
For a second, Shuuichi just stared at him; then the most amazing smile spread over his face, and he leaned forward and hugged Yuki tightly. "Thank you, Yuki," he said.
Making a face, Yuki pushed him off. "All right, all right."
Shuuichi got the hint; he slid off Yuki's lap and into the space beside him. And, as usual, began jabbering. "This is going to be a great year, isn't it, Yuki? 2002! It even sounds great! You know, I'm thinking about going touring in America. It'll really jump my sales. I have a new resolution, you know? I want to go platinum. No, I just thought about it, and I want to go *double* platinum! I want to go double platinum. That's my New Year's resolution. I really need to tell Hiro. He ought to know, don't you think? I wonder what he's doing. Actually, he's probably with Ayaka. I'm glad he's going out with her. Well, actually, I'm just glad she doesn't want to marry you anymore--though she does still get that funny look on her face whenever she sees you--"
"Shuuichi," said Yuki.
Shuuichi paused. "Yeah?"
Yuki shook his head. "Never mind. I'm going to bed."
Shuuichi looked surprised, like he hadn't really considered it. "Oh. Well, I'll come with you, I guess. I am pretty tired. Like, I could just hit the bed and fall asleep...." He yawned widely as he stood and walked with Yuki back into the bedroom. Then he paused. "Oh! Wait! I have something!" And he dashed out of the room.
Yuki debated going after him, then decided it wasn't worth the trouble and slid into bed without him. This time, he put the pillow over his head *before* Shuuichi came into the room.
Still, he could hear Shuuichi come back in, kicking things out of his way as he did so. Yuki felt him climb into bed beside him, then felt something cold press against his back. He made a sound of protest.
"I bought this before I got home," Shuuichi said. "It looked good."
Yuki turned his head over, blinking, and Shuuichi moved the object of discussion into his line of sight. Wine. Two glasses of it, as a matter of fact, and Shuuichi was already sipping at his and making a face. Yuki sat up and accepted the glass Shuuichi offered him.
He hesitated to take a sip, knowing that only Shuuichi could mess up wine, but curiosity won out in the end, and he took a cautious drink. And blinked. It was actually--*good*. More than good, actually--it was really, really high-quality wine. Yuki slanted a suspicious look at Shuuichi.
"How much did this cost?" he asked.
Shuuichi pursed his lips. "Um. A lot?"
Yuki rolled his eyes and took another sip. "You don't like it?" he asked, watching with amusement as Shuuichi visibly fought to keep his down.
Shuuichi swallowed and coughed a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I hate wine," he said in a raspy voice.
Yuki shook his head. Uneducated, annoying, and uncultured. He was stuck with him, though. He reached out, cupped Shuuichi's face in his hands and drew him forward for a deep--and enthusiastic, on Shuuichi's part--kiss. He tasted the wine in Shuuichi's mouth and smiled, in spite of himself. He'd have to work this into his novel. Maybe the hero would get a new girlfriend. He broke the kiss and took another sip of wine, ignoring Shuuichi's disappointment.
Shuuichi set his glass down on the floor and settled against the pillows, watching Yuki as he drank. In the dim light, he looked younger than he actually was. Softer, somehow. Yuki cocked his head, took one more sip of wine. He ran his finger down the side of Shuuichi's face, intent on feeling the texture of the soft skin there. He leaned forward and nuzzled Shuuichi's jaw, then his neck, and heard Shuuichi made a soft, pleased sound.
"Yuki," Shuuichi breathed. "Love you."
"Mmm." Yuki moved back up, kissing Shuuichi, running his fingers through Shuuichi's bangs. "Do you, now."
Shuuichi nodded; Yuki threaded his fingers more securely in his hair to keep him from moving. "I'm sorry about the cigarettes. But you should listen to your d... ooh." He fell silent.
Yuki made a dismissive noise. "Don't worry about that. They don't hurt anything." He straddled Shuuichi and fingered the waistband of his loose pants. He raised an eyebrow. "Though," he said in a low voice, "let's make a deal. I'll cut back on the cigarettes, like I said, and you promise not to steal them again." He strayed his hand lower. "Deal?"
Shuuichi nodded frantically.
"Good." He wrapped his arms around Shuuichi's back and lifted him up, pressing their chests together. He dropped his head to Shuuichi's neck. "Happy New Year," he murmured, and, reaching his hand down, wrapped his fingers around Shuuichi's length.
Shuuichi groaned loudly and arched against him, thrusting his hips into Yuki's hand. Yuki chuckled lowly and settled his free hand securely on Shuuichi's hip, keeping him still. "No moving," he said into Shuuichi's ear. "You're too impatient."
"Yuuuuuki...."
"Mm-hmm." Yuki kissed him again, pressing down hard on his hip when Shuuichi tried, unsuccessfully, to thrust again. He swallowed Shuuichi's wordless protest and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from thrusting, as well. For once... just Shuuichi.
When he decided that Shuuichi would probably die soon from not coming, he sped up his hand, and Shuuichi got even louder--any louder and he'd echo. They'd have to work on that--it was damned embarrassing when they had Tatsuha sleeping over here. He tightened his grip, and Shuuichi came with a moan.
He held him as Shuuichi slumped against him, panting in the aftermath. When Shuuichi had gained reasonable control over himself again, Yuki pushed the sticky blanket away from them with a grimace, and helped Shuuichi pulled his pants off. Shuuichi was always particularly pliant after they had had sex--he did all this without complaint, and when they were done, he curled against Yuki as contentedly as a cat. After a few seconds, he rose up on one arm and looked down at Yuki, brow creasing.
"Yuki....?" he said uncertainly.
Yuki pulled him back down again. "That's your New Year present," he said curtly. "Don't ask any questions and go to sleep."
Shuuichi was silent, apparently thinking about that. When Yuki put the pillow back over his head again, he shrugged, curled against him, and fell quite soundly asleep.
It wasn't so easy for Yuki. He lay against the bed, eyes wide open, listening to Shuuichi's noisy breath, the whistling from his deviated septum. He thought of the wine, which was far enough way that he would have to move to get it. Too much effort. He sighed and shifted, but Shuuichi had an iron grip on him, and he couldn't move far.
New Year. Starting over. What a load of bullshit. Today would be the same as yesterday, and this year would be the same as the last. It never changed....
He stroked Shuuichi's hair. Some things never changed.
In the morning, he decided, he would call Mika and Touma. Ask how Tatsuha was doing. Wish them happy New Year. He'd never done that; Touma would be thrilled.
Beside him, Shuuichi murmured something and snored, loudly.
He'd have to write that wine scene, Yuki thought. Maybe he wouldn't kill the girlfriend after all... cut the death scene, use it for a different novel. Give the sap lovers something to swoon over.
His last thought before he drifted completely off was that he would kill Shuuichi if he spilled wine on the floor.
Yuki took his hand off the mouse and looked around his work area, brow creasing ever so slightly in frustration. He cast an eye back toward the monitor--he'd hit a particularly nasty snag in his story, couldn't figure out what to write next; the main character's girlfriend had just had her house broken into, and he couldn't decide whether she should be messily stabbed or not. That was frustrating enough in itself; but lately it was happening a lot more often, so he'd made it a point to keep some cigarettes lying around. Last he'd checked, he'd had at least four. He hadn't smoked them, Shuuichi certainly hadn't smoked them, and they hadn't grown legs and walked off themselves. So where the hell *were* they?
He growled and bent low to look in his drawers. Paper, paper, rubber bands, a pick--He picked that last item up and inspected it. One eyebrow crept up his forehead. It had teethmarks in it; so it was probably Shuuichi's, since he tended to chew on random things when he got bored. How it had gotten stuffed in his desk, mixed in among paper and ink and pencils, he didn't really want to know. Yuki tossed it back in the desk and closed it with a satisfying bang. His desk shook. He stood up, pushed his chair away from him with his foot, and wandered into the kitchen for a beer.
He picked up a saltine cracker along the way and was munching on that when he opened the refrigerator door. He blinked, then looked harder to make sure his vision hadn't blurred or something. But no, his eyes were fine; there was just no beer in his fridge. Yuki swallowed the cracker with a loud noise, and slammed the refrigerator door shut with an even louder noise. He cursed pungently and threw the package of crackers into the trash.
Yuki was an intelligent man, not to mention a naturally suspicious one, and it wasn't that long ago that *he'd* been nineteen (going on twenty, as Shuuichi reminded him so often). So it didn't really take that much figuring to guess what was going on here. His doctor had been telling him for weeks that he should give up cigarettes and beer, but by now it was more of a reflex than anything, since he knew Yuki wouldn't. Taking the prescription, that was about the limit of what he'd do for himself. He'd been stupid enough to take Shuuichi with him on his last appointment. He'd thought Shuuichi had been dozing near the end of it, but apparently not; Shuuichi had probably heard the doctor, realized that Yuki was not going to do what the doctor told him to, and taken matters into his own hands.
He was long past the point of really analyzing why he put up with Shuuichi's crap anymore, but the thought did pass his mind.
Yuki realized he was chewing his fingernail, and took his finger out of his mouth with a grimace. *That* was one habit he definitely didn't want to cultivate.
So. He didn't have beer, and he didn't have cigarettes, and the only person who knew where they had gotten off to wasn't going to be home for another ten or so hours. Yuki considered his choices. Stay inside and work on the story without beer and cigarettes, or go outside into freezing weather, scrape ice and snow off his car, and drive to a general store.
He ground his teeth and went to find his keys.
He didn't have that much money on him, so he had to settle for some cheap beer and even cheaper cigarettes, non-menthol. He stood in line and reflected that Shuuichi was definitely in for it this evening, and would possibly be sleeping on the couch for the next few days. The thought gave him some comfort, and he managed a curt smile at the cashier who rang up his purchases.
"Paper or plastic, sir?" she asked him.
Yuki glanced at her nametag, which had bright red letters--IN TRAINING--printed over it. *Hi, I'm Ayumi.* "Plastic," he said. Their hands brushed as he handed her money. He noticed that she had a slight flush on her cheeks, but decided it was from the cold.
"Have a nice New Year, sir," she called after him as he left.
Yuki blinked, nonplussed. New Year's already? He consulted his mental calendar, which he mostly kept track of based around Shuuichi. Let's see, Shuuichi had performed Friday, and that had been the day before yesterday. So, yes... it was New Year's. Amazing. Seemed like it'd been Christmas just a few days ago. Well, it *had* been, but it seemed like it'd been a lot sooner. He hated Christmas. Opening all those damn packages and pretending you liked them... All the false pretenses and pleasant frivolities.... He jerked open his car door, harsher than he usually was with it, and slid inside, wincing at how cold the leather seats were.
He turned on the ignition and decided to let it warm up a bit before he started back home. He fished around in the bag for the cigarettes and pulled them out, digging his fingernail into the top of the package and ripping open the plastic paper. He took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, then lit it, closing his eyes as he inhaled two lungfuls of smoke and nicotine.
He opened his eyes, happened to look at his window, and jumped as far as he was able in the car as a shock of pink hair and wide doe eyes confronted him.
"YU~KI!"
Breathe, Yuki, he instructed himself, slumping against the back of his seat. Breathe. Twisting around, he rolled down the window and gave Shuuichi what he hoped was a particularly venomous look.
"What," he snapped, "in the hell are you doing here?"
Shuuichi simpered at him. "Yuki!" he squealed. "Isn't this cool? I'm on break, Hiro and I were out here just getting some candy, and I thought I saw your car, but I thought, wow, Yuki wouldn't come here, would he? But you did! Lucky I caught you, I guess you were almost about to go home--"
Yuki took out his cigarette, and tilted his head slightly as he exhaled. He wasn't cruel enough to blow that much smoke directly into Shuuichi's face. Still, Shuuichi coughed and wrinkled his nose. "Yes," he said shortly. "I was. And I could, if you would get off my car." He looked past Shuuichi but didn't see Bad Luck's bassist. "Where is Hiro?"
Shuuichi shrugged. "Still in the store. In line. The lines are long, you know. Well, of course you know, you were just in there. Anyway, I thought I'd tell you that I won't be home till around twelve tonight--I *thought* we were gonna be done sooner, but Suguru wants to practice more. He says my voice can't get some of the notes right in our new song." He rolled his eyes. "What does *he* know."
"All right, whatever," Yuki interrupted. "I won't wait up for you. I'm tired. I might have some Chinese or something, though, so I'll leave it out for you." He started rolling the window back up. "All right?"
"Yuki, wait!"
Sighing, he did. "What?"
Shuuichi smiled at him, then leaned in and kissed him. He was probably aiming for Yuki's mouth, but it landed more around his chin. "Love you," he said happily, then waved vigorously. "Bye! See you tonight! Don't overwork yourself, and go to bed as soon as you feel tired!"
Yuki rolled up the window.
By nine o'clock that night, the main hero's girlfriend was dead.
Yuki added a few finishing touches to the death scene, which the hero just happened to witness--tender (if somewhat bloody) caresses, declarations of undying love, stuff of that sort--before saving it and shutting down his computer. He stared at the monitor for a while, smoking idly on a cigarette. This one was coming around rather nicely; it would get rave reviews. The sap lovers would praise the love scenes, of course, which he had made particularly detailed this time, and his critics would rant about the violent sex and random gore. There really was no need to have killed off the girlfriend, and they would jump on that immediately. People like that didn't understand that sometimes, things like that happened, and it wasn't part of any literary formula.
For some reason, his mind strayed back to the tooth-marked pick in his desk, and he looked at his watch. Shuuichi wouldn't be back for a while. The Chinese was already cold in the kitchen, and the microwave had broken down this morning. Not that it mattered--Shuuichi would eat anything cold if he was really hungry. It was disgusting, sometimes. Pizza, Yuki could see eating cold, but the clam chowder soup had been too much. He'd honestly thought Shuuichi would throw it up, but he'd been as bouncy as ever after eating it.
Absently, Yuki thought about the fact that his toes were cold. He glanced at the thermostat. It was probably sixty degrees or so. Well, his toes could stand it for a while longer--Shuuichi would crank it up to eighty when he got home.
He dozed for an hour without meaning to, then smoked another cigarette after waking up. Then he decided he was hungry, and went to the kitchen to investigate. He didn't know what all he had; Shuuichi had gone grocery shopping a few days ago, and since he tended to buy whatever caught his fancy, there was always something new. This time it was about twenty packages of strawberry and chocolate Pocky. Yuki admitted to having a bit of a weakness for Pocky--Touma was the only one who knew, and made it a point to send him some on his birthday. Last year it had been vanilla... Yuki pulled out a few sticks and chewed on them as he made his way to his bedroom, stepping deftly over books and piles of dirty clothes. He discarded his shirt on a chair along the way, but kept his pants on; they were close enough to boxers that they were comfortable to sleep in. He finished the Pocky, then eyed his bathroom and decided he'd better take a quick shower before he went to bed.
Once he got in the shower, though, the heat seduced him, and he shampooed his hair and shaved before getting out. Good thing, too, he decided, running a hand over his jaw--he'd been getting stubbly. The cactus-feel appealed to some men, but not to him, and not to smooth-faced Shuuichi either. Not that he cared whether or not Shuuichi liked it. *He* didn't like it. Yuki nodded to himself around a mouthful of toothpaste. When he dropped into bed at last, his mouth tasted like Aquafresh, which was an improvement over the cigarette taste.
He was soundly asleep when the bed sank with someone else's weight, and a cold body pressed close to his. Yuki stirred, brow coming together, but didn't wake.
"*Yuki*...." crooned the someone in his bed, voice surprisingly soft and mellifluous for how annoying it usually was.
Yuki rolled over and pressed his pillow over his ears.
"YUki...." Now the voice sounded more like Shuuichi; loud and annoying.
Yuki swatted at him, and heard an 'ow' as his hand hit what felt like Shuuichi's face.
"Yuki, come *on*, it's New Year's, don't you want to watch the ball drop?"
"No," Yuki grumbled.
Shuuichi's hands slid down his back and settled on either side of his waist. "Come on," he said again. "It's 2002. Don't you want to watch? *Please*?"
Yuki sighed. "You're not going to let me sleep, are you?"
"No."
"Fine." He sat up, blinking hard, and ran a hand through his still-damp and tousled hair. He looked over at Shuuichi, who looked near bursting from happiness. Yuki sighed and got out of bed. "Well, then," he said, holding out a hand to Shuuichi, "let's watch the damned ball drop." He paused. "What time is it?"
"Eleven fifty-two," Shuuichi said, following him into the main room.
Yuki sat cross-legged on the couch and 'hmm'ed. He pulled out his cigarettes from his pocket and put one in his mouth, pressing it between his lips as he searched for a lighter. "Cut it close, didn't you?"
Shuuichi beamed at him. "I chewed Suguru out. He wanted to keep me past twelve, but I told him if he didn't let me go home to be with you, I'd kick him out of the band."
Yuki shifted so that Shuuichi could sit next to him, resting his hand on Shuuichi's pink hair as Shuuichi stretched out the length of the couch. He lit his cigarette and turned on the television to a news channel. "Would you have?"
"No, but he believed me." Shuuichi looked pleased with himself.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the television with the volume on low. Yuki looked down, and was startled when he saw that his hand was stroking Shuuichi's hair and cheek--he didn't remember starting that. He almost smiled; Shuuichi's eyes were drifting shut, his mouth was falling open, and there was a little bit of drool on his cheek. He kneed him gently in the jaw. "You woke me up for this," he admonished when Shuuichi blinked drowsily at him. "You're not falling asleep."
Shuuichi yawned and wiped his mouth. "Sorry. I'm tired."
"The human whirlwind, tired?" Yuki turned his head to the side and puffed. He stroked Shuuichi's bottom lip, gently. "I'm amazed."
"It's been a long year." Shuuichi sounded uncharacteristically sober.
Yuki started to speak, but the announcers on television beat him to it. "And now it's ten seconds to the new year!" one of them said, sounding genuinely excited.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
"I love you, Yuki," Shuuichi murmured, kissing his fingers.
Yuki didn't reply, just kept stroking Shuuichi's face. He got to the end of his cigarette and put it out, one-handed, on the coffee table.
"Two!"
"One!"
"Happy New Year!"
Confetti exploded everywhere, a shower of pink and white and purple and orange and green. Shuuichi sat up and scooted into his lap, resting his head in the crook of Yuki's shoulder, a warm and heavy weight on Yuki's legs. Absently, Yuki raised one arm and wrapped it around Shuuichi's waist.
"Shuuichi," he said suddenly. "Did you throw away my beer?"
Shuuichi pulled back a little so that he was looking into Yuki's face. Even if he had lied, Yuki would have been able to tell; the guilty expression on his face gave him away. But he nodded.
"And my cigarettes?"
Again, Shuuichi nodded.
"Hmm." Yuki looked past him, at the television. "I was thinking of cutting down. New Year's resolution and all."
For a second, Shuuichi just stared at him; then the most amazing smile spread over his face, and he leaned forward and hugged Yuki tightly. "Thank you, Yuki," he said.
Making a face, Yuki pushed him off. "All right, all right."
Shuuichi got the hint; he slid off Yuki's lap and into the space beside him. And, as usual, began jabbering. "This is going to be a great year, isn't it, Yuki? 2002! It even sounds great! You know, I'm thinking about going touring in America. It'll really jump my sales. I have a new resolution, you know? I want to go platinum. No, I just thought about it, and I want to go *double* platinum! I want to go double platinum. That's my New Year's resolution. I really need to tell Hiro. He ought to know, don't you think? I wonder what he's doing. Actually, he's probably with Ayaka. I'm glad he's going out with her. Well, actually, I'm just glad she doesn't want to marry you anymore--though she does still get that funny look on her face whenever she sees you--"
"Shuuichi," said Yuki.
Shuuichi paused. "Yeah?"
Yuki shook his head. "Never mind. I'm going to bed."
Shuuichi looked surprised, like he hadn't really considered it. "Oh. Well, I'll come with you, I guess. I am pretty tired. Like, I could just hit the bed and fall asleep...." He yawned widely as he stood and walked with Yuki back into the bedroom. Then he paused. "Oh! Wait! I have something!" And he dashed out of the room.
Yuki debated going after him, then decided it wasn't worth the trouble and slid into bed without him. This time, he put the pillow over his head *before* Shuuichi came into the room.
Still, he could hear Shuuichi come back in, kicking things out of his way as he did so. Yuki felt him climb into bed beside him, then felt something cold press against his back. He made a sound of protest.
"I bought this before I got home," Shuuichi said. "It looked good."
Yuki turned his head over, blinking, and Shuuichi moved the object of discussion into his line of sight. Wine. Two glasses of it, as a matter of fact, and Shuuichi was already sipping at his and making a face. Yuki sat up and accepted the glass Shuuichi offered him.
He hesitated to take a sip, knowing that only Shuuichi could mess up wine, but curiosity won out in the end, and he took a cautious drink. And blinked. It was actually--*good*. More than good, actually--it was really, really high-quality wine. Yuki slanted a suspicious look at Shuuichi.
"How much did this cost?" he asked.
Shuuichi pursed his lips. "Um. A lot?"
Yuki rolled his eyes and took another sip. "You don't like it?" he asked, watching with amusement as Shuuichi visibly fought to keep his down.
Shuuichi swallowed and coughed a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I hate wine," he said in a raspy voice.
Yuki shook his head. Uneducated, annoying, and uncultured. He was stuck with him, though. He reached out, cupped Shuuichi's face in his hands and drew him forward for a deep--and enthusiastic, on Shuuichi's part--kiss. He tasted the wine in Shuuichi's mouth and smiled, in spite of himself. He'd have to work this into his novel. Maybe the hero would get a new girlfriend. He broke the kiss and took another sip of wine, ignoring Shuuichi's disappointment.
Shuuichi set his glass down on the floor and settled against the pillows, watching Yuki as he drank. In the dim light, he looked younger than he actually was. Softer, somehow. Yuki cocked his head, took one more sip of wine. He ran his finger down the side of Shuuichi's face, intent on feeling the texture of the soft skin there. He leaned forward and nuzzled Shuuichi's jaw, then his neck, and heard Shuuichi made a soft, pleased sound.
"Yuki," Shuuichi breathed. "Love you."
"Mmm." Yuki moved back up, kissing Shuuichi, running his fingers through Shuuichi's bangs. "Do you, now."
Shuuichi nodded; Yuki threaded his fingers more securely in his hair to keep him from moving. "I'm sorry about the cigarettes. But you should listen to your d... ooh." He fell silent.
Yuki made a dismissive noise. "Don't worry about that. They don't hurt anything." He straddled Shuuichi and fingered the waistband of his loose pants. He raised an eyebrow. "Though," he said in a low voice, "let's make a deal. I'll cut back on the cigarettes, like I said, and you promise not to steal them again." He strayed his hand lower. "Deal?"
Shuuichi nodded frantically.
"Good." He wrapped his arms around Shuuichi's back and lifted him up, pressing their chests together. He dropped his head to Shuuichi's neck. "Happy New Year," he murmured, and, reaching his hand down, wrapped his fingers around Shuuichi's length.
Shuuichi groaned loudly and arched against him, thrusting his hips into Yuki's hand. Yuki chuckled lowly and settled his free hand securely on Shuuichi's hip, keeping him still. "No moving," he said into Shuuichi's ear. "You're too impatient."
"Yuuuuuki...."
"Mm-hmm." Yuki kissed him again, pressing down hard on his hip when Shuuichi tried, unsuccessfully, to thrust again. He swallowed Shuuichi's wordless protest and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from thrusting, as well. For once... just Shuuichi.
When he decided that Shuuichi would probably die soon from not coming, he sped up his hand, and Shuuichi got even louder--any louder and he'd echo. They'd have to work on that--it was damned embarrassing when they had Tatsuha sleeping over here. He tightened his grip, and Shuuichi came with a moan.
He held him as Shuuichi slumped against him, panting in the aftermath. When Shuuichi had gained reasonable control over himself again, Yuki pushed the sticky blanket away from them with a grimace, and helped Shuuichi pulled his pants off. Shuuichi was always particularly pliant after they had had sex--he did all this without complaint, and when they were done, he curled against Yuki as contentedly as a cat. After a few seconds, he rose up on one arm and looked down at Yuki, brow creasing.
"Yuki....?" he said uncertainly.
Yuki pulled him back down again. "That's your New Year present," he said curtly. "Don't ask any questions and go to sleep."
Shuuichi was silent, apparently thinking about that. When Yuki put the pillow back over his head again, he shrugged, curled against him, and fell quite soundly asleep.
It wasn't so easy for Yuki. He lay against the bed, eyes wide open, listening to Shuuichi's noisy breath, the whistling from his deviated septum. He thought of the wine, which was far enough way that he would have to move to get it. Too much effort. He sighed and shifted, but Shuuichi had an iron grip on him, and he couldn't move far.
New Year. Starting over. What a load of bullshit. Today would be the same as yesterday, and this year would be the same as the last. It never changed....
He stroked Shuuichi's hair. Some things never changed.
In the morning, he decided, he would call Mika and Touma. Ask how Tatsuha was doing. Wish them happy New Year. He'd never done that; Touma would be thrilled.
Beside him, Shuuichi murmured something and snored, loudly.
He'd have to write that wine scene, Yuki thought. Maybe he wouldn't kill the girlfriend after all... cut the death scene, use it for a different novel. Give the sap lovers something to swoon over.
His last thought before he drifted completely off was that he would kill Shuuichi if he spilled wine on the floor.