A/N: I seem to be having some formatting problems with this new documents thingy that the siteis using. If I can get it to look right I will fix it, as it is I thought it was better get the text up rather than play with it endlessly trying to get it to look right :) For now, a bunch of "ooo"s are the line-breaks

I want to thank all of my readers and reviewers, and give my thanks to those of you who stuck with this fic for so long and how encouraged and threatened me to finish it :) You have no idea how much such support can shake some confidence into someone and motivate them to thinking that their fic is actually worth writing. Thanks a bunch, love you lots.

From my rudimentary understanding of Japanese, the honorific "sensei" which generally refers to teachers, can also be used for other people in positions of respect such as doctors and authors. I'm using it here for Yuki to show that the public are affording him a certain level of respect, not that they know of his past as a teacher :)

The first song is "Angel's Song" is from the film "Rock n' Rule", the second is "The Gravity of Love" by Enigma.

Anyway…here it is, such as it is. Thanks for the ride.

ooo

The heat of summer faded into a crisp fall and a cold winter, and with the change in season came the steady rise of Bad Luck as one of the top up and coming pop bands in the country. While fame and fortune had not "fallen out of the sky and landed in his lap" as Hiiro had once teased, Shuichi had worked hard at NG and earned a spot as a budding idol, with the "Rage Beat" becoming a bestselling single. His voice, now even more of a tour de force than it had been in high school, sang out from radios around the country, and their first large concert tour was set to begin. If things kept how they were…then maybe, someday…Bad Luck would take it's place among the top pop bands in the country.

Shuichi and Hiiro, with their new genius keyboardist, Fujisaki Suguru, had spent months writing lyrics, composing arrangements, tearing through rehearsals, slowly gained a dedicated and growing following. Though Shuichi had found it hard to give up keyboards, he found a new contentment in focusing on lyrics and singing, and found that with more time being dedicated on honing his craft he was becoming a better and stronger musician everyday, and the gratification the fans in the sweaty clubs in Tokyo where they made their rounds heaped upon the band definitely seemed to agree.

Shuichi's initial fears about the stage also seemed to evaporate, and he found that the only times he felt anything close to true happiness were on the stage when the lights hit his face, and he was embraced by the heat and crackle in the air. The energy of the crowd and the beat of the music lifted him above his pain, and he felt free and almost whole. Almost—for no matter how his music made him feel he always felt as though he were missing a vital piece of himself. A piece that was forever captured in a song about cigarette smoke and blond hair that he now refused to sing, though many of the band's original fans who saw them play at the music competition in his old high school requested it.

December brought a chill to the air and Shuichi shivered as he made his way down a busy shopping street, looking for a birthday gift for his sister. She was the only family member he kept in contact with, as his parents had all but disowned him now that he had turned his back on his education. Her weekly calls, though nosy and sometimes overbearing, bolstered his spirits as it was obvious she cared about him fiercely and somehow knew that he was nursing a broken heart. It was only fitting then, he thought, that he make sure that he took some time off work and find her something really special.

As he stopped at a traffic light, he smiled as something fluttering in the air caught his attention; as unlikely as it was for this time of year, it was a small yellow butterfly flittered in the breeze, so like the one he had seen many months ago, on the day he stood on the school roof with Hiiro and his friend had teased him about his options for the future. Salaryman or songwriter. Convention or courage. It was, from all appearances, a cruel choice: to have the life that his family wanted for him, of safety and security and an eventual family with a wife and children, or to give up everything that was wanted for him by others and follow his own path.

In the end, it was the easiest choice he had ever made.

After Eiri's cruel public rejection he had picked himself off the floor and walked out of the school building, with his head held as high as he could hold it, knowing he would never return to face the stares, the rumors, the judgment. The two months stretched out between himself and graduation might as well have been an eternity, and while Hiiro deftly balanced exams and their commitments at NG, Shuichi threw himself into his music with a frenzy and a dedication that would have surprised the teachers who had once written him off as a hopeless case.

He tried to put all of his energy into his work, knowing that somewhere inside he was trying to prove himself to the toughest critic of all; not his parents, not the executives at NG, not even Eiri, but rather, his own ambition. He wanted to create something more than the snivel-y and naïve lyrics he had sung with such gusto on the high school stage. He wanted to create something more; something like what Ryuichi Sakuma had created: something immortal. Something that would finally show everyone, including himself, that there was more to him than the kid who dropped out of school and the kid that was rejected by a man that meant more to him than even his songs.

After his last meeting with Eiri, Hiiro had taken care of everything, as he so often had for the pair. He walked out of the school beside Shuichi, and slowly, they made their way to the apartment Hiiro had managed to sublet from his brother's ex-roommate. On the way, Shuichi let the story trail out of what had happened between himself and Eiri, and Hiiro listened with a sympathetic ear, hating Uesugi Eiri with every fibre of his being. He vowed at that moment that no matter what it took, Shuichi would find happiness and if getting their band to number one would do it, well…nothing would stop Hiiro in making it happen.

The apartment they finally reached was small, the bedrooms little more than closets, and smelled of cats and moldy fruit…but it was, at last, home. Hiiro made a shrug as if apologizing for the tiny set of stuffy rooms, but Shuichi smiled brightly for the first time all afternoon as he looked at the large window and pointed to a spot against the wall where the sun shone in.

"There," he said, turning to his friend. "My desk, it's going there. And my keyboard. And I'm going to write our first hit at it."

Hiiro had laughed, and nodded. "I bet you will," he said. The pair stared at each other for a long moment, and Shuichi felt warmed knowing that now, at last, he had a home where he would never be hurt, never be cast aside or thrown out. As he surveyed the rest of the room, Hiiro picked up his backpack and said, "Now…you settle in, I've got some errands to run."

Shuichi sat down cross-legged on the hard floor and wordlessly, reached into his backpack and pulled out a key, the tag reading "658." He extended his arm toward his friend and with his eyes asked Hiiro to do the one thing that he could not do himself. To face Eiri one more time, and bring his things from the man's house to their new, small home.

Hiiro returned later that evening with everything of Shuichi's, and never spoke of whether or not the blond man was present in the apartment when he was there to pack up. He also didn't explain why he had not brought home Oliver, who he had picked up and placed gently on the older man's pillow. Let him see it, he thought, and let the bastard remember how much he had thrown away.

ooo

Shivering, Shuichi continued down the busy street, watching the butterfly disappear into the crowd. Clad in a garish orange vest and with his now near-famous pink hair concealed under a large grey cap, Shuichi he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and dodged shoppers, as the pedestrian traffic grew notably thicker. A large cluster of women and teenage girls were gathered on the sidewalk up ahead, their excited chatter carried on the breeze. Shuichi, his interest piqued, lowered the cap on his head and made his way to the back of the crowd to see what all the fuss was about. If there was a new product out that all these women were so excited about, maybe it would be something his sister would like.

"Can you believe how gorgeous he is?" one girl in a school uniform sighed, clutching a book to her chest. "I've read mine three times already!"

"Three times? It just came out two days ago!" an older woman exclaimed, jealousy evident in her voice. "I wasn't able to get a copy yet" she continued, sounding bitter. "I've brought a magazine with Yuki-sensei on the cover that I'm hoping he will sign." She flashed around a glossy magazine and Shuichi caught a brief glimpse of a blond on the cover.

Shuichi stiffened and craned his neck forward, moving with the group as it surged forward, the doors of the shop they had gathered in front of opening wider. Yuki-sensei?. .No way…it had to be a coincidence, he reasoned, standing on his tip-toes to try to see over the heads of the girls in front of him.

"Well…" the girl replied to the woman, "You can have a peek at mine if you want while we wait, by the looks of this crowd it's going to be forever!" The older woman eagerly grabbed at the proffered book, and began flipping through the pages.

That's it! Shuichi decided, unable to see the cover and near dying of curiosity. Never one for patience, he pushed his way to the girl and the older woman and asked, "Excuse me, what is it that is going on here? Who are you all talking about?"

The older woman snorted in disbelief, almost dropping the thick book. "Who are we talking about!"

"Where have you been, under a rock?" the girl admonished, shaking her head.

It was partially true, actually; Shuichi had been incredibly busy with his work at the studio and getting the new album ready, and whatever time he didn't spend there he spent at his keyboard in his tiny apartment writing new songs or refining existing ones. He had little time to follow the news, and didn't even own a television, and had little interest in the papers.

Shuichi shrugged apologetically, and smiled. The girl, exasperated, continued, "You can't have not heard of Yuki-sensei, he's the most amazing, sweet, sexiest new romance writer in Japan!" She reached out and took the magazine from the older woman and thrust it into Shuichi's hands, pointing at the unmistakable face on the cover. The same crisp features, the same shiny golden hair, the familiar piercing gaze. Yuki Eiri Exclusive! the caption read.

Yuki Eiri. His Yuki. A writer? A romance writer?

Stunned, Shuichi's mouth gaped open and his hands began to shake as they gripped the slim magazine. After a moment's silence, the older woman reached out and tried to take back the magazine, only to find the boy gripping it tightly in his hands as if it were a rare treasure. In their brief time together so many months ago now, Shuichi had no mementos, no photographs, no way to see the man he had loved to fiercely save in his memory. The image that stared up at him, and Shuichi stared down, shaking his head slightly. He really was as beautiful as he remembered; hell, he really had existed; he wasn't a dream or a fantasy or a delusion. Here he was. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but at the same time, as if someone had punched him in the guts.

The woman cleared her throat and finally pulled the magazine away, saying, "You know, if you want one so badly you can buy one inside, there's no need to try to take someone else's!"

Blinking hard, Shuichi looked from her to the magazine and to the bookshop they were waiting in front of and, in typical Shuichi fashion of plowing through whatever obstacle was in front of him, he bent over slightly, tucked his arms in to his chest, and moved forward through the crowd. He ignored the protests of the girls he shoved his way through, and within a few moments, was at the front of the line of the cashier, a magazine and a copy of the book which so many girls were drooling over clutched in his hand. As he checked out, he was so lost in his own thoughts and in such a state of shock he barely heard the cashier ask, politely as he handed Shuichi his bag of purchases,

"Will you be getting Yuki-sensei to autograph this book for your girlfriend, sir?"

"Eh?" Shuichi asked, snapping to attention. "Autographed?"

"Yes, sir, we're having an autographing session this afternoon; I'm sure you noticed the large crowd gathering in line to get to our second floor. Yuki-sensei is upstairs signing copies of the book you just purchased." The clerk spoke gently, as though he felt Shuichi were stupid to have missed the huge signs throughout the store advertising the event.

Shuichi craned his neck upwards, but could only see throngs of girls and women going up the stairs. Up there, so close…after all this time, within reach…was Yuki.

From somewhere deep within him a wretched sob let loose, and he fought his way toward the exit of the store, outright shoving his way through the crowd, not caring that his hat had come off, not caring that he was crying, not caring that several girls were slowly starting to say,

"Shindou Shuichi-san?"

"Where?"

"Is that Bad Luck!"

Instinct taking over, Shuichi clutched the store bag tightly and ran like hell.

ooo

Breathless, Shuichi collapsed on a park bench and tried to find some semblance of calm. As he breathed in and out steadily, he felt his heart rate slow and his dizziness began to fade. Feeling better, he slowly reached inside the bag and removed the book that he had not stopped to examine in the busy store.

The cover, a smooth, crisp white, bore the title in a blank, inky-looking elegant scrawl:

"Inspire Me: an epic of courage, heartbreak, and true love"

by Yuki Eiri

So it was true, he thought. Eiri had written a book, at last, and, for some puzzling reason, had adopted the pseudonym that Shuichi had bestowed upon him. He closed his eyes and remembered that night when he had lain there in the soft bed, breathing in the other man's scent and feeling safer and more content than he had ever thought possible.

/"That's it, it's settled! From now on, you're Yuki Eiri, the talented, sexy, up-and-coming author!"/

/"Don't call me that./

Shuichi chuckled softly, remembering how adorable the blond looked when he was scowling, and when he was so obviously doing it on purpose. Shuichi didn't fool himself to think that the story was about him and his brief relationship with the older man. Hell, even "relationship" was a stretch to call it, considering how little it must have meant to Eiri. But then… why…why had he kept the name? Was it even possible that Shuichi and his "silly" encouragement about becoming a writer meant more to Eiri than he had let on?

His hands shaking, Shuichi flipped the book over and there, on the back cover, was a black-and-white photograph of the author, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, his expression intense. Shuichi could see in the background that the picture had been taken at a temple, and he wondered if it could have been taken at his family home. Had Eiri returned to Kyoto to write despite his father's objections?

Shuichi knew that the man no longer lived at his old apartment; he would never tell Hiiro, but there were so many nights when Shuichi would walk past the building on purpose, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eiri through a window or coming and going into the apartment complex. One day, when momentarily struck by insanity, he had walked up to the entrance and almost pressed the call button for Eiri's apartment, to find that the nameplate next to 658 now read "Yamashia, N." Eiri had moved, and Shuichi had no way of finding him. Now he started to wonder if maybe he had left the city altogether, and maybe if he was back signing books he could…

"No!" Shuichi said out loud, shoving the book back into the bag with the magazine. "There is no way I'm doing this again!" He leapt to his feet and headed toward his apartment, shaking his head. He had spent too long mourning Eiri, too long trying to forget him and too long realizing that his broken heart might never mend. There was no way, no way in hell, that he was going to start this up again.

No.

ooo

"Tadaima!" Hiiro called, heaving several bags of groceries into the apartment and shutting the door behind him with his left foot. The set of rooms now bore little resemblance to the bare, smelly place they had first rented. Posters of Nittle Grasper graced the walls, and strings of multicolored and chili lights hung from the ceiling. Stacks of manga lined the small bookshelf, and the area around Shuichi's keyboard and desk was rife with papers and sound equipment. It was amidst this clutter that Hiiro found Shuichi sitting, tapping out a somber melody on the keys and humming softly.

"Hey," Shuichi replied, not looking up from his hands. He waited, wondering how long it would take Hiiro before he saw the book and magazine which Shuichi had strategically placed on the low table in the centre of the room. He could hear Hiiro rummaging around with groceries, and as he crammed food into the tiny cupboards, he chatted about his day, about his lunch with Suguru and about the rumors of a possible Nittle Grasper reunion.

When the last bit of news failed to rouse anything from the other man but "uhh-huh", Hiiro knew something was drastically wrong. Looking again in Shuichi's direction, his eye caught the book on the table, and he made his way toward it.

"Shuichi…what is this doing here?" Hiiro asked, turning the book over in his hands and shaking his head. Shuichi whirled around in his chair.

"Did you know, Hiiro? Had you heard anything about this?" he asked, his purple eyes wide.

Hiiro swallowed hard. "I was trying to think of the best way to tell you," he began. "I saw him on television the other day, when I was visiting my parents. My mom was raving about this new author and said I had to come watch this interview with her. I was meaning to say something I just didn't know how." he trailed off, hating the expression of sadness he saw in his friends eyes and once again was filled with contempt for Eiri.

"I see," Shuichi said, looking down at his lap. Hiiro slammed the book down on the table and walked over to his friend, who he grabbed by the shoulders and shook.

"You don't do this again to yourself!" he cried, his grip tightening. "You are worth more than this, Shuichi! You are worth more, you are worth everything…please, don't…" Hiiro trailed off and dropped to his knees on the floor, his face level with Shuichi's, his hands still holding his shoulders. After a moment's silence, Hiiro drew Shuichi into an embrace, and let Shuichi cry.

The pink-haired man leaned in to Hiiro's chest and let the tears come, part of him wondering why he had never let Hiiro hold him like this before. Hiiro had never hurt him, had never judged him, and had never thrown him away like an old shoe. He would never make Shuichi hate himself, would never treat him as though he were unworthy of affection or love. After everything, the home he had wanted he finally had, here.

But yet…

As the warm, strong arms held him, he saw in his mind a flash of blonde hair and the scent of cigarettes and rich cologne; heard the deep, rich voice of Eiri and knew, once again and irrecoverably that he had, did, and always would, belong with only one person. His Yuki.

Hiiro's hand twined in Shuichi's pink hair, and his breath was warm on the other man's neck, but whatever moment had passed between them was over. Shuichi sniffled and gently began to pull away, his hands cupping his friend's face as he did so. "Hiiro, thank-you. I'm sorry, I can't, I don't…"

"It's okay" Hiiro interrupted, getting to his feet. He felt something strange inside, and whatever it was, it was fiercely protective of Shuichi and knew that at whatever cost, his younger friend would not be hurt more by him. Whatever feelings he might have he would sort them out on his own, but he could not drag Shuichi into them. If he did so, he would only make a mess of things, and further complicate matters beyond repair.

Turning toward the small kitchen, which consisted of a hotplate and a rice-cooker, Hiiro asked, as though nothing had happened, "Now…what do you want for supper? We have ramen, ramen, or ramen."

"Hmm," Shuichi said, a smile returning to his face. "I think I'll have ramen, please."

"Coming right up!" Hiiro laughed, grabbing a bag of chicken noodles out of one of the shopping bags.

Shuichi turned back to his keyboard, turned up the volume, and began to crank out an upbeat and fast melody. Somehow, all the hard and painstaking effort it had taken him over the last few months to write music seemed to disappear, and as he looked down at the magazine cover he felt that he had once again found his song.

ooo

The shouts and rhythmic clapping of the sellout crowd at the concert hall could be heard straight through to the dressing rooms backstage, where Bad Luck was anxiously getting ready to take the stage. Rather, the band's manager, Sakano, was anxiously pacing around tapping his watch and hovering over Suguru's shoulder while they waited for Hiiro and Shuichi to emerge from their dressing room, where the duo were preparing for the performance.

"What the hell are they doing in there!" Sakano cried, yanking at his hair. "They're late! At their first sellout concert, they're late! If the boss sees this I'll be fired!"

"Sakano-san!" Suguru chided the band's neurotic manager. "Calm down, please. They will be out here on time, they wouldn't miss this for anything."

Sakano paced back and forth a few more times, then, with an elaborate twirl, threw himself against the dressing room door. "I know you are in there!" he cried, hammering the entrance with his fists.

"Sakano-san! Stop this immediately!" Suguru demanded, his hands on his slim hips. "Do you want to disturb them while they are preparing for the show and make them perform badly?" Sakano immediately jumped back from the door and resumed pacing, taking his pulse with two fingers as he breathed heavily.

Inside the dressing room, Hiiro calmly flipped through television channels and picked at his guitar as Shuichi put the finishing touches on his outfit for the show. Now known for his wild outfits and hair as much for his powerhouse voice, Shuichi hadn't wanted to disappoint: tonight he was sporting his old black bitch boots, pulled over tight red shiny pants. He wore a sleeveless black and red print vest with no shirt underneath and which exposed a fair bit of mid-drift. Black fishnets covered his arms, which had been fashioned into full-arm length fingerless gloves. His pink hair, now having grown out a fair bit, was partially held back in a short pony-tail at the back of his head, with several shaggy strands hanging down to frame his face. And, as a finishing touch…his sister's red boa laid over his shoulders, which he had almost worn the first time Bad Luck took the stage.

Shuichi posed in front of the full length mirror and dabbed on a bit of sparkly lip gloss, and wondered if he needed more accentuation around the eyes. The fact that he was thinking such things made him laugh. If anyone had told him eight months ago that he would be getting ready to play to a sellout concert hall, he probably would have laughed in their face. He thought of himself settling into winter mid-term examinations at university at this time of year and shuddered--how on earth could his parents have not wanted this life for him?

Satisfied with his appearance at last, Shuichi spun around, and cried out, "Hiiro! I'm ready!"

"Hn," Hiiro said, still channel surfing. Shuichi was used to this by now; before all their smaller club shows Hiiro seemed to need some time completely to himself to either get ready for performing or to calm his nerves. Still, Shuichi pouted and bounced across the dressing room to poke his friend in the shoulder until he got some attention.

"Look, look! I'm READY!" he said again, his genki demeanor now at epic levels. He took one end of the boa and tickled the side of Hiiro's face with it, causing his friend to drop the remote and sputter, raising his hands defensively.

In the minute that the television sat still on one channel, the voice of a female night-time talk show host blared out into the dressing room: "Good evening, folks! If you're just joining us, you're in for a real treat: tonight we're interviewing the popular best-selling new author, Yuki Eiri, who has just been awarded two national prizes for literature. Yuki-san, this is a major accomplishment for a first novel, and from one so young, it's unheard of. What was your inspiration for this work?"

The camera flipped to the blond author, who sat uncomfortably on a couch across from the interviewer. Eiri hated interviews like this; he had not expected so much publicity from the release of his first novel. While it was encouraging to know that his work had been well received, it was also annoying as hell that his privacy had been so interrupted, and the more commitments his agent piled upon him, the more he wondered how long it would be until someone connected him with the cold man who had served a brief stint as teacher under the name Uesugi Eiri. If anyone had so far, they had not made such knowledge public, and for that Yuki gave silent thanks every day, not for his sake, but for Shuichi's.

Though he had went into near seclusion in his new Tokyo loft apartment, he knew that the younger man's career was starting to really take off, and he dreaded to think of the possible scandal that could erupt if anyone connected the new author and singer together because of their brief encounter at the school last year. Despite his many statements that Shuichi had no talent and despite his coldness toward the pink-haired man, every time he heard Bad Luck's single on the radio in his car he turned up the volume as loud as his eardrums would stand, and would grip the steering wheel tight, sometimes biting his lower lip so hard he would taste blood. It was as if he felt he must punish himself somehow, but he didn't really know why. He knew one thing though: for all his childish dreams and all of his genki encouragement, Shuichi had made it. And someday, he would somehow understand why Eiri had left him alone.

The television was silent for a moment, as the camera flipped back to the host, who nervously laughed as her guest remained silent. In the dressing room, Hiiro and Shuichi likewise were silent, staring wordlessly at the screen, Shuichi's hand gripping Hiiro's arm tightly.

"Yuki-san?" the host asked, glancing to her notepad and back to her silent guest. "Let me rephrase the question: what inspires you to write? Where do you get your ideas?"

A flash of pink hair and purpley eyes entered Yuki's mind and he pressed his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, and then looked back to the host, a cold glare in his eyes. "My stories just come to me, I can't say from where. It's too hard to explain to those with no creative vision."

More inane laughter from the host and the audience grated on Yuki's nerves. "Well, that's um...understandable, isn't it? Now Yuki-san, tell us, how are you coping with your sudden fame?"

Hiiro grabbed the remote control off the dressing room floor and Shuichi reached out and took it from his hand. Shaking his head, Hiiro said, "Damnit, Shuichi, turn off that crap. This is the last thing we need to see right now."

Shuichi nodded, but yet kept staring at the screen and at the face which he could see held so much hurt. He had wanted so badly to bring color to Eiri's grey world, to bring life to a man who seemed blind to the possibility of any joy. And, in his naiveté, he had failed, and yet…he had somehow succeeded, for there Eiri sat, an author--though it was obvious that it had not brought him peace or happiness.

"Shuichi, please, lets turn this off and get out there, they are waiting for us, okay?" Hiiro asked again, more gently this time.

Shuichi smiled and swallowed hard. "I knew he would do it, that he would write. Look at him, Hiiro. He's so beautiful."

Hiiro snorted. "He's a prat."

"Hiiro!" Shuichi cried, swatting his friend on the arm.

"Come on Shu, look at how full of himself he is! Why can't he ever answer a question straight without his ego getting in the way? That poor host looks like she wants to sink through the floor!"

It was true, but the slight woman bravely went on, asking questions from her notepad to her icy guest. "Yuki-san, there has been a lot of buzz about the dedication inside your book, a lot of young ladies are wondering to whom you meant it!" The audience cheered as the host picked up the book and opened the cover, reading aloud, "'For bubblegum hair, purple eyes, and horrible pancakes'" she put the book back down on the table in front of her and leaned toward Eiri, asking, "Now, Yuki-san…surely you can tell us who this lucky lady is!"

Shuichi's face turned a deathly pale and his jaw dropped as the words were read aloud. Having decided that he wasn't ready yet to read what Eiri had written, he had never even opened the cover of the book. He sat limply down in a chair and said softly,

"He's not full of himself, Hiiro, he's afraid. Can't you see it? He thinks that people won't like him, and won't understand him, that's why..." he trailed off, as if suddenly struck with a profound realization of truth.

"Shuichi?" Hiiro asked, waving his fingers in front of his friend's eyes.

"That's why he pushes everyone away!" Shuichi shouted, his eyes wide and excited. "Hiiro, don't you get it! That's why he pushed me away, it wasn't because he didn't love me! He was just afraid of loving me! He doesn't not want me, he left because he does want me! He needs me!"

"Shui–"

"YUKI!" Shuichi cried, leaping to his feet and running for the door. Hiiro leapt to his feet, and tackled the pink-haired man.

"Shu! Where on earth are you going!" he asked, struggling to hold the singer still.

"To that TV station! Yuki is there now, I have to go to him! Didn't you hear that, 'for horrible pancakes'! That's me!" Shuichi wiggled his slender and wiry frame free and burst open the door, plowing over Sakano, who had been nervously listening at the door. When he saw that his singer was trying to make a headlong break for the exit, he let out a piercing howl and lunged at the floor in front of Shuichi, hoping to slow him down. Hiiro came barreling out of the door behind his friend, and bellowed out,

"STOP! We have concert which begins in exactly 3 minutes! You aren't running off anywhere until after you've sung for the thousands of adoring fans who've been waiting to see you! Do you want to disappoint them?"

That did it. Shuichi stopped, stumbled over Sakano, and landed on the floor flat on his face. He slowly got to his feet, sputtered, and began, "But..."

"No 'buts!'" Hiiro said, extending his hand to help the singer get to his feet. "Get out on that stage and show these people the concert of their lives! THEN, you may run off like some maniac after the man you love. With our blessings."

Suguru helped Sakano stand up and joined in with eager nodding. "Yes, Shindou-san, we must perform our concert! We will all help you if you need it afterward to find whoever this is."

Shuichi looked to the faces of his friends and to the desperate face of his manager, and heard the clapping and cheering of the crowd. He breathed in deep and stuck his fist up in the air, exclaiming, "You're right! First the show, and then...YUKI'S MINE!"

ooo

Seguchi Tohma surveyed the crowd with pleasure, and tapped his left foot to the beat of his new band giving the best debut concert he had seen since Nittle Grasper. Joining him in his private box in the concert hall was his wife, Mika, Shindou's sister Maiko, and his old friend, Noriko, whom he planned to ask to help the band's arrangements on their upcoming album. Tohma glanced at his watch, wondering when his last guest would arrive; his brother-in-law. As Tohma understood, he would be coming here directly from a television studio nearby, so he was expected about midway through the show. As intermission began, Tohma heard the unmistakable rich voice of Uesugi Eiri—scratch that, he reminded himself, Yuki Eiri, enter the box.

"So Tohma," he asked, surveying the scene, "This is the band I just 'had' to see, hm?" No one would know it, but Eiri felt so nervous he was about to throw up. He was certain that the singer knew nothing of Eiri's connection to his employer, and furthermore, he knew that the chances that Eiri would be spotted in the private box were next to nothing, but still…being here, so close to Shuichi, was…unsettling, at best.

He still wasn't sure why he had accepted Tohma's invitation to the show. He had wracked his brain thinking of excuses why he couldn't make the concert, and felt that there was no legitimate reason to refuse the outing other than his past with the lead singer, something he wanted to remain secret at all costs. So, he reasoned, to avoid suspicion, he must jump into the lion's den, as it were. Momentarily wishing he had dyed his hair black to blend in with the crowd, he sat down in the seat Tohma offered, next to his own in the front row of the box.

Tohma and he made polite conversation for a few minutes, when a girl, obviously on her way back from the concession stands, entered the booth. Eiri stood to introduce himself, when his voice died in his throat. She was young, about twenty, he guessed, with brown, bouncy hair and large, purpley-blue eyes. Eyes he would recognize anywhere; eyes so like Shuichi's that he felt dizzy.

"Hajimemashite!" She said politely, bowing. "My name is Shindou Maiko."

Eiri nodded politely, glancing to Tohma and back to the girl. Shindou's sister, she had to be. "Er..hello. Hajimemashite. I'm Yuki Eiri," he said, giving a short bow and then extending his hand. She took it with a large smile, and tipped her head to one side.

"Of course I know Yuki-san," she said brightly, causing Yuki's heart to stop for a second. Had Shuichi told her about them? "Yuki-san is very popular with young women nowadays," she continued, and Eiri breathed and audible sigh of relief. He let go of the girl's hand and gestured that she should take a seat next to him, finding himself oddly comforted by her presence, but also feeling that he was playing with fire to talk with her much more. What would happen if she told her brother that she just happened to meet Yuki Eiri at his concert? What would he think? Would Shuichi even know who Yuki Eiri was? Would he remember?"

"Yuki-san missed a very energetic set earlier," Maiko said, settling into her seat. "My brother, Shuichi, down there?" she pointed toward the stage, "he said that this one will be much more emotional and powerful," she said proudly.

The lights went down and, to wild whistles and cheers, Bad Luck again took the stage, this time giving a softer set of songs. Shuichi, who looked as at home in front of the microphone as he did laying on a sofa, grabbed the microphone and, in a rich, moody tone, sang:

Now for all you'll ever know
That you've never seen me
And someday you're gonna show
What your one desire means
Now I'll only set the stage
Focus lights on me
I'll make sure the power's on
On the scenery

Oh, what will the signal be
For your eyes to see me?
Watching off sides as I wait
Just in case you need me?
So I still will set the stage
Send my thoughts to you
I'm receiving every wave
The sound, send love through

The words the singer sang seemed to pour out of his throat and shoot directly into Eiri, just as they did the first, and only, other time he had seen Shuichi perform. Eiri felt his chest tighten as tried to conceal his face from view of the stage without looking like he was trying to do so. Where these words meant for him? As Shuichi gyrated toward Hiiro on the stage who broke into a ripping guitar solo, Eiri watched the chemistry between the pair and felt a possessive growl in his throat. It had been, what…seven moths? eight?

Eiri suddenly felt stupid. It was like part of him wanted Shuichi to move on with his life but the rest of him was angry and gutted by the thought that that might have happened. That Shuichi might ever sing a love song that wasn't for him.

The song ended, and Eiri alone sat in stony silence as the crowd went wild. Several more breathless, fast-paced songs later, and, once again, a hush fell as Shuichi soulfully broke into the final song of the night:

Turn around and smell what you don't see
Close your eyes ... it is so clear
Here's the mirror, behind there is a screen
On both ways you can get in
Don't think twice before you listen to your heart
Follow the trace for a new start
What you need and everything you'll feel
Is just a question of the deal
In the eye of storm you'll see a lonely dove
The experience of survival is the key…

To the gravity of love

Eiri sat still and gripped the armrests of the chair, willing himself not to cry. He didn't cry, he never cried, he couldn't cry; not here, not now, not in public, not over some crappy love song sung by a silly, pink-haired, pop idol. Not when the song couldn't be about him, never about him, not after he had torn through any bit of self-confidence the boy must have had; not when he had cast him aside like a piece of garbage for doing nothing but encourage him and maybe even…love him?

"Yuki-san?" a voice said in his ear, straining to be heard over the shouts of the crowd. "Would you like me to walk with you to your car, Yuki-san?" Maiko asked, concerned. She didn't know what was going on with the man, but she was empathetic enough to see that there was pain there, so much pain. And she could see that all of it was being poured into a stare directed at her brother, who was making his bows on the stage. When Eiri did not respond, instinct took over, and she gently took the bond's arm, coaxing him to his feet. Tohma looked at the pair questioningly, and Maiko apologized, "I am not feeling well, Seguchi-san; Yuki-san has offered to escort me home."

Tohma smiled and nodded, waving the pair off, as Maiko, her grip on Eiri's arm firm, led him toward the exit of the box, away from the noise of the crowd.

On stage, Shuichi felt flushed and tired and yet high on the experience of a lifetime. He flung his arms around the shoulders of his band mates and the three took a final bow, shouting back at the cheering fans. Finally allowing himself to look up at the box where he knew his employer and his sister would be watching, Shuichi's eyes bulged as he saw the back of a tall, blond head walking out of the box with his…sister? Maiko looked back at the stage and waved enthusiastically at Shuichi, and then turned to leave the box with the man she was with. Such a familiar shape, and coloring...it couldn't be…

"YUUUUUUUUKI!" Shuichi cried leaping in the air a few times. His scream, unamplified as the microphones stood in their stands, was lost into the roaring of the fans, who buzzed in question as the singer suddenly turned around and ran from the stage as fast as his feet could carry him.

ooo

"Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!" Shuichi chanted to himself under his breath as he tore through the chaos of backstage, frantically looking for the exit. If Yuki had been a guest of Tohma, as unlikely as such a thing would be, he would be in the VIP parking section, the same spot the band's limousine would be waiting. Having been forced to memorize the route to the car in case a hasty exit was needed after the concert, Shuichi plowed through anyone who stood in his way, and made it to the parking lot in what was surely a time to rival an Olympic sprinter.

He blasted through the door at the same time that Eiri was unlocking the passenger side of his car for his sister. Surprised at the sudden burst of noise, Eiri dropped his keys, and bent to retrieve them. When he stood up, it was to see a panting, sweaty, and crimson-complexioned Shuichi, standing about five feet away from him.

"Shuichi!" his sister cried, her eyes wide. "How on earth did you get out here so fast? What about your encore?"

Shuichi gulped and continued to breathe heavily, and managed, "What? Maiko? How do you know…" he shook his head, and looked from his confused sister to the still form of Eiri, who looked as though he were a statue.

Sensing that there was more to the situation than she knew, and remembering the way the author had stared at her brother inside as though he were about to cry, Maiko backed up and said, gently, "I think I may have forgotten to thank Seguchi-san for his hospitality tonight. I'll be right back." She turned and reentered the concert hall, leaving the pair alone.

A long silence fell between the them, as they stared at each other, their minds registering the changes that had come to them both. As he looked at Shuichi, Eiri realized that they were no longer teacher and student, no longer even boy and man, as Shuichi had grown into a strong, confident adult somewhere along the way. It was the kind of change that happened quickly, and that was borne of pain and of sacrifice, and Eiri bitterly felt that he was responsible for the hurt he saw in the other man's eyes.

As for Shuichi, he looked at Eiri and again felt the bond between them that he had known the first time they had spoken. They were both artists; an author and singer, dreamers who had tried for too long to live lives predetermined by someone else. He had imagined in his mind a hundred, no, a thousand times what he would say to Eiri if they ever met again, and all of those rehearsed things flew out of his mind as the words popped out of his mouth,

"I suppose you think I'm still better off writing graffiti on bathroom walls?"

The corners of Eiri's mouth twitched, and Shuichi swore he saw a barest trace of a smile. "You've really got no talent, you know" the blond replied, shaking his head.

"Thank-you," Shuichi said, grinning. "I'll take that as high praise."

The pair could now hear the noise of rushing feet and yelling coming from inside, and knew that by now the fans had realized that Shuichi would not be returning to the stage for an encore, and that the crowd, the press, and his band mates would be hunting for him. Looking back to the door, Shuichi groaned and let out a sigh. He whipped back around when he heard the sound of the car door unlocking, and watched wordlessly as the blond got inside his sleek white sports car and started the engine. He felt for a moment terrified that it would all end like this, with Shuichi being dragged back inside by the press and with Eiri quietly driving away. It couldn't, it can't! he thought, feeling his heart sink down to his knees.

As he stood there, preparing to watch the man he knew he still hopelessly loved drive away, Eiri leaned across and opened up the passenger door, and asked in a deep, sexy voice,

"Are you coming?"

Shuichi froze, remembering those same words being spoken by Eiri so long ago, as he was framed in the doorway of the bedroom, his blond hair tousled and his eyes extending an invitation that Shuichi could never refuse. The same look he gave Shuichi now.

"Are you crazy?" Shuichi grinned, leaping into the passenger seat. He slammed the door behind him just as the concert hall door burst open, and photographer's camera's began to flash. Eiri tore out of the parking lot, tires squealing, and Shuichi began, uncontrollably, to laugh.

"Where are we going?" he managed, as Eiri headed out onto the main road.

"Home," Eiri answered, a small smile gracing his lips.

ooo

End.

Many songs were involved in the creation of this story, and to give credit where it's due, thanks to:

The amazing voice of Kotani Kinya & the music of the Gravitation soundtracks;
"Your Eyes" from the RENT soundtrack (Broadway & Film)
"Visions of Paradise" by Mick Jagger;
"The Gravity of Love" by Enigma;
"Angel's Song" from the animated film "Rock n' Rule"

Listen to them, they are great :)