Warning: This chapter is written a tad bit darker the rest. Less comedy,
more dramedy. A little more in the way of pg-13-ness as well. But enjoy!
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Gravitation: Medical Vocabulary
Shuichi lay perfectly still.
Usually this wasn't something the genki singer could accomplish. But, layer upon layer of bandages, body braces, and casts did make it a little easier not to move. Actually, it made it somewhat. . .well, impossible. Which was why Shuichi was laying perfectly still. . . and babbling incoherent phrases.
Seguchi Tohma, who had decided to sit with Shuichi in the hospital, wondered how long it would take before the singer completely cracked. The last time Shuichi had been confined for any period of time had been in grade school when he'd had the chicken pox. Shindou's mother had tied him to a bed to try and stop his incessant scratching.
It actually hadn't ended too badly. Mrs. Shindou got a new bed, wall, neighbors, and a $10,000 check from the Tokyo Society of Psychiatric Phenomenon. Maiko got years of blackmail on her brother, and Hiro got hours of fun. At least, that was what Hiro had told the head of NG as the nurses bound up the deliriously drugged singer. Which was why said head of NG was sitting by Shuichi now, really. Listening to the increased pitch of Shuichi's babbling, Tohma decided he could start the countdown to complete mental breakdown in 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .
"Yuuuuuki! I love Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuki. . ." Shuichi screeched, his eyes turning rounder and rounder. A slightly creepy blue tint seeming to shine from them.
Crack! Tohma grinned. "Gomen Shindou-san. What was that? What odd and sexually forbidden things have you done with Eiri-san?"
Shuichi lay in eerie silence for a moment as a gentle wind blew through the room with a whoosh of sound. This puzzled Tohma slightly as he had thought the windows had been closed.
"The night," started Shuichi suddenly, his voice hushed but strong, "I found Yuki in New York. It was snowing so hard outside that no one was around in the park. I said I didn't want to, but then Yuki slid his hand up my shirt and started to feel my. . ."
Yup, this was going to be a long and fruitful night, thought Tohma with smirk. He really ought to send K a thank you gift for this one.
". . .and my back just wouldn't bend that way, so I wanted to stop, but then Yuki took his tongue and, just as I. . ."
*WHAM*
Tohma jumped at the sound. Turning his head around, he sweat-dropped slightly at the sight of a certain tall, sandy-haired writer leaning by the open door. Peripherally, he could still hear Shuichi continue his story, but something told him it was better to focus on the handsome man in front of him.
"I'm sorry, I seemed to have dropped my book," said Yuki rather pleasantly given that he was glaring death at his brother-in-law, "why don't you continue listening."
Now, Tohma was a genius. Not just a musical genius, or a financial genius, but a genius at understanding people. And being so brilliant, Seguchi Tohma realized that he was in just a little bit of danger of being beaten to a pulp despite Yuki's rather polite tone. Of course, being THE Seguchi Tohma, he'd never let it on. So, he did what he always did when he was uncomfortable, murderous, upset, or experiencing an emotion in any way, shape, or form: he smiled.
"Eiri-san is so full of surprises. How long have you been standing there for?"
Yuki, who was also quite smart really, decided that Tohma was indeed a very creepy person. Anyone that could smile like that had to be psychotic. It just wasn't possible for normal people. Sure he was angry at the man. Well, sort of. Admittedly, he had been present from the beginning, his entry being the source of a certain mysterious breeze, and could have stopped Shuichi's little story anytime. Sure, he had been rather enjoying Shuichi's version of the whole Central Park stunt. . .but that wasn't the point, dammit! Alright, so he was a little confused. Well, being THE Yuki Eiri, he'd never let it on. So, he did what he always did when he was uncomfortable, feeling mushy, confused, or experiencing emotion in any way, shape, or form: he glared.
*glare, glare* *smile* *glare* *smile, smile*
So the two titans stood, or rather Yuki stood and Tohma sat, at an impasse. Time ticked by, first one minute then one hour. The dark sky grew a little darker. Nurses passed by, went into the room to change Shuichi's bedpan, emptied the bedpan, and walked away wondering why the two strange (if handsome) young men kept glaring/smiling at one another.
It was a hopeless case, or at least it could have been a hopeless case except. . .
*KUMA-GO-RO BEAAAAAAAAAAAMMUUU!!*
Yes, salvation descended on the duo in the form of pink fuzz. Sakuma Ryuichi, singer and number one distraction extraordinaire, glomped the sitting Tohma with great enthusiasm and chibiness.
"Toooohma. Meanie! You didn't tell me you were visiting Shu-chan!" Ryuichi squealed, burying his face into Tohma's shoulder, expression alternating between humongous teary eyes and angry red cheeks. That is, before he realized that a certain genki boy lay inches away. "OoOoO! Shuuuu-chaaan! Let's play!!!"
Yuki, still stunned at having been hit in the head by anything, much less a fuzzy pink bunny, forgot to glare altogether. Instead, he simply stared at the legendary lead singer launch from Tohma's shoulder onto Shuichi's stomach, wondering if this was what he'd be dealing with in ten years. Blinking, he decided he'd had enough of the entire room and turned to leave.
"E-Eiri-san," Tohma ventured softly, as he got up and pried a crooning Ryuichi off the slightly paler, but suddenly sensible Shuichi. He'd decided in the course of Ryuichi's throttling that it was, perhaps, better to retreat for now and keep his rights to Yuki-meddling rather than try and stay for the sake of some entertainment. "Why don't we give you some privacy."
With that, the blond haired man quickly brushed passed Yuki, marching a loudly protesting Ryuichi in front of him.
Silence reigned for a moment as the door swung firmly shut behind the two men.
"Ne, Yuki?"
Yuki started a little at Shuichi's unmistakable voice so strangely soft. Turning, he headed toward the pink-haired singer's bedside, sitting down in the chair that Tohma had so recently vacated. He couldn't help thinking as he sat that Shuichi looked almost fragile underneath the bleached white sheets. "Hai."
Shuichi blinked slightly, not quite believing the concern that clouded the face looking down at him. "Is that really you?"
"Baka," came the familiar reply, but this time gently delivered. Yuki snaked a hand underneath the sheets, lightly placing his long fingers on top of Shuichi's slender hand. "I heard that you've been trying to write songs in English."
The pink head seemed to droop slightly at the words. "Hai. Ne, Yuki. . . I-I thought you would like my English songs more, but K-san blew them all up."
Shuichi's closed his eyes as they started to mist at the thought of all the effort he had put into writing those songs, and the pride with which he had imagined presenting them to Yuki. He had spent hours pouring through English dictionaries, television programs, even the odd cereal box. . .
"Baka."
Suddenly, Shuichi felt a feather-light touch of warmth on his forehead. Opening his eyes slightly, he saw the pale skin of Yuki's neck tantalizing close to him.
"Yuki. . ." Shuichi began, wishing with all his might that he could move, even just a little.
"Shu. . ." Yuki whispered back into Shuichi's forehead, before moving away to sit back in his chair. It wouldn't do to try and do the boy while he was in bandages, after all. Tenderly, he reached out a hand to softly brush at a lock of hair sticking out between two bandages. "Shuichi. Promise me one thing."
"Hai, Yuki," replied Shuichi obediently, hoping that it would bring another kiss.
It didn't. Instead Yuki sat back rigidly in his chair, staring at Shuichi with serious eyes. "Don't ever write in English again. Ever."
Shuichi lay in silence for a moment.
"Demo," he began. "I want to sing in English. You said it yourself, it's English songs you find most romantic."
To Yuki's horror, the singer's voice grew steadily more distressed, building into a painful wail. "Why? Why do I have to be so stupid that I can't even write a stupid song in English! All I wanted was to sing one for Yuki!!"
Well, there was only one way to silence the brat at that point, really. Or at least that was Yuki's train of thought as he leaned over to clap his lips firmly on top of the singer's, mid-wail. Once again glorious silence descended on the room. Well, mostly silence broken by the occasional moan. Shuichi, it turns out, could move a LITTLE bit.
"Baka," whispered Yuki into Shuichi's mouth, hours later, as the two of them broke apart slightly for air. "Just sing then. I'LL write you a song in English."
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Gravitation: Medical Vocabulary
Shuichi lay perfectly still.
Usually this wasn't something the genki singer could accomplish. But, layer upon layer of bandages, body braces, and casts did make it a little easier not to move. Actually, it made it somewhat. . .well, impossible. Which was why Shuichi was laying perfectly still. . . and babbling incoherent phrases.
Seguchi Tohma, who had decided to sit with Shuichi in the hospital, wondered how long it would take before the singer completely cracked. The last time Shuichi had been confined for any period of time had been in grade school when he'd had the chicken pox. Shindou's mother had tied him to a bed to try and stop his incessant scratching.
It actually hadn't ended too badly. Mrs. Shindou got a new bed, wall, neighbors, and a $10,000 check from the Tokyo Society of Psychiatric Phenomenon. Maiko got years of blackmail on her brother, and Hiro got hours of fun. At least, that was what Hiro had told the head of NG as the nurses bound up the deliriously drugged singer. Which was why said head of NG was sitting by Shuichi now, really. Listening to the increased pitch of Shuichi's babbling, Tohma decided he could start the countdown to complete mental breakdown in 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .
"Yuuuuuki! I love Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuki. . ." Shuichi screeched, his eyes turning rounder and rounder. A slightly creepy blue tint seeming to shine from them.
Crack! Tohma grinned. "Gomen Shindou-san. What was that? What odd and sexually forbidden things have you done with Eiri-san?"
Shuichi lay in eerie silence for a moment as a gentle wind blew through the room with a whoosh of sound. This puzzled Tohma slightly as he had thought the windows had been closed.
"The night," started Shuichi suddenly, his voice hushed but strong, "I found Yuki in New York. It was snowing so hard outside that no one was around in the park. I said I didn't want to, but then Yuki slid his hand up my shirt and started to feel my. . ."
Yup, this was going to be a long and fruitful night, thought Tohma with smirk. He really ought to send K a thank you gift for this one.
". . .and my back just wouldn't bend that way, so I wanted to stop, but then Yuki took his tongue and, just as I. . ."
*WHAM*
Tohma jumped at the sound. Turning his head around, he sweat-dropped slightly at the sight of a certain tall, sandy-haired writer leaning by the open door. Peripherally, he could still hear Shuichi continue his story, but something told him it was better to focus on the handsome man in front of him.
"I'm sorry, I seemed to have dropped my book," said Yuki rather pleasantly given that he was glaring death at his brother-in-law, "why don't you continue listening."
Now, Tohma was a genius. Not just a musical genius, or a financial genius, but a genius at understanding people. And being so brilliant, Seguchi Tohma realized that he was in just a little bit of danger of being beaten to a pulp despite Yuki's rather polite tone. Of course, being THE Seguchi Tohma, he'd never let it on. So, he did what he always did when he was uncomfortable, murderous, upset, or experiencing an emotion in any way, shape, or form: he smiled.
"Eiri-san is so full of surprises. How long have you been standing there for?"
Yuki, who was also quite smart really, decided that Tohma was indeed a very creepy person. Anyone that could smile like that had to be psychotic. It just wasn't possible for normal people. Sure he was angry at the man. Well, sort of. Admittedly, he had been present from the beginning, his entry being the source of a certain mysterious breeze, and could have stopped Shuichi's little story anytime. Sure, he had been rather enjoying Shuichi's version of the whole Central Park stunt. . .but that wasn't the point, dammit! Alright, so he was a little confused. Well, being THE Yuki Eiri, he'd never let it on. So, he did what he always did when he was uncomfortable, feeling mushy, confused, or experiencing emotion in any way, shape, or form: he glared.
*glare, glare* *smile* *glare* *smile, smile*
So the two titans stood, or rather Yuki stood and Tohma sat, at an impasse. Time ticked by, first one minute then one hour. The dark sky grew a little darker. Nurses passed by, went into the room to change Shuichi's bedpan, emptied the bedpan, and walked away wondering why the two strange (if handsome) young men kept glaring/smiling at one another.
It was a hopeless case, or at least it could have been a hopeless case except. . .
*KUMA-GO-RO BEAAAAAAAAAAAMMUUU!!*
Yes, salvation descended on the duo in the form of pink fuzz. Sakuma Ryuichi, singer and number one distraction extraordinaire, glomped the sitting Tohma with great enthusiasm and chibiness.
"Toooohma. Meanie! You didn't tell me you were visiting Shu-chan!" Ryuichi squealed, burying his face into Tohma's shoulder, expression alternating between humongous teary eyes and angry red cheeks. That is, before he realized that a certain genki boy lay inches away. "OoOoO! Shuuuu-chaaan! Let's play!!!"
Yuki, still stunned at having been hit in the head by anything, much less a fuzzy pink bunny, forgot to glare altogether. Instead, he simply stared at the legendary lead singer launch from Tohma's shoulder onto Shuichi's stomach, wondering if this was what he'd be dealing with in ten years. Blinking, he decided he'd had enough of the entire room and turned to leave.
"E-Eiri-san," Tohma ventured softly, as he got up and pried a crooning Ryuichi off the slightly paler, but suddenly sensible Shuichi. He'd decided in the course of Ryuichi's throttling that it was, perhaps, better to retreat for now and keep his rights to Yuki-meddling rather than try and stay for the sake of some entertainment. "Why don't we give you some privacy."
With that, the blond haired man quickly brushed passed Yuki, marching a loudly protesting Ryuichi in front of him.
Silence reigned for a moment as the door swung firmly shut behind the two men.
"Ne, Yuki?"
Yuki started a little at Shuichi's unmistakable voice so strangely soft. Turning, he headed toward the pink-haired singer's bedside, sitting down in the chair that Tohma had so recently vacated. He couldn't help thinking as he sat that Shuichi looked almost fragile underneath the bleached white sheets. "Hai."
Shuichi blinked slightly, not quite believing the concern that clouded the face looking down at him. "Is that really you?"
"Baka," came the familiar reply, but this time gently delivered. Yuki snaked a hand underneath the sheets, lightly placing his long fingers on top of Shuichi's slender hand. "I heard that you've been trying to write songs in English."
The pink head seemed to droop slightly at the words. "Hai. Ne, Yuki. . . I-I thought you would like my English songs more, but K-san blew them all up."
Shuichi's closed his eyes as they started to mist at the thought of all the effort he had put into writing those songs, and the pride with which he had imagined presenting them to Yuki. He had spent hours pouring through English dictionaries, television programs, even the odd cereal box. . .
"Baka."
Suddenly, Shuichi felt a feather-light touch of warmth on his forehead. Opening his eyes slightly, he saw the pale skin of Yuki's neck tantalizing close to him.
"Yuki. . ." Shuichi began, wishing with all his might that he could move, even just a little.
"Shu. . ." Yuki whispered back into Shuichi's forehead, before moving away to sit back in his chair. It wouldn't do to try and do the boy while he was in bandages, after all. Tenderly, he reached out a hand to softly brush at a lock of hair sticking out between two bandages. "Shuichi. Promise me one thing."
"Hai, Yuki," replied Shuichi obediently, hoping that it would bring another kiss.
It didn't. Instead Yuki sat back rigidly in his chair, staring at Shuichi with serious eyes. "Don't ever write in English again. Ever."
Shuichi lay in silence for a moment.
"Demo," he began. "I want to sing in English. You said it yourself, it's English songs you find most romantic."
To Yuki's horror, the singer's voice grew steadily more distressed, building into a painful wail. "Why? Why do I have to be so stupid that I can't even write a stupid song in English! All I wanted was to sing one for Yuki!!"
Well, there was only one way to silence the brat at that point, really. Or at least that was Yuki's train of thought as he leaned over to clap his lips firmly on top of the singer's, mid-wail. Once again glorious silence descended on the room. Well, mostly silence broken by the occasional moan. Shuichi, it turns out, could move a LITTLE bit.
"Baka," whispered Yuki into Shuichi's mouth, hours later, as the two of them broke apart slightly for air. "Just sing then. I'LL write you a song in English."