A/N: So, how many people were unhappy with the way the series were ended (in the manga, because I haven't seen the end of the anime, I'm about 3 episodes away)? If I had my way, the last four books would be written differently. So this is my spin on the end of the story. It's rather… rough? Hn… I know most of you will think that Shuichi's a bit out of character, but I always thought that he was the manic depressive type, and I worked with that. I also worked with some irony in later chapters, but you won't get that until then. (I should stop writing on more than one story at a time. I have, like 3 going... aauuughh...)
Disclaimer: I don't own the songs sang/written in this chapter. Everyone should know by now that I don't own Gravi.
Song one is "Follow" by Breaking Benjamin. The lyrics shown to Hiro are from the song "Forget it" by the same band. Words in (parenthases) are words I have added in to suit Shuichi. I have rearranged lyrics as well as tweaking them. This is not for monitary purposes, only literary.
Chapter One: Breath Control
Eiri Yuki looked down in distaste at the items his brother-in-law had laid on his table. "Get that crap out of my house."
Tohma smirked lightly. "Gladly. But I've been told by my wife to leave them here."
"Then throw them out a window. Put the paper through the shredder, and run over the CD," Yuki grumbled, tapping away at his laptop once more.
"Now, now, Eiri-san. We all know how scary Mika can be," Tohma reasoned. He stood, dusting off his pants neatly. "As much as I wish I could stay, business calls, and I must be there soon."
"Whatever," the bespectacled blonde grunted, completely ignoring Tohma.
With a sigh, Tohma left. "I'm at loathe to say so, but I know you miss that boy," he said as parting.
Yuki scowled, slamming his laptop closed. Tohma had left that crap after all. Yuki took off his glasses and slid them into his breast pocket staring at the ceiling.
Missed that loud, annoying, little bugger? Hell no. It had been three years of silence, of not waking up to gunshots from crazed music managers; three years of being able to go to the grocery store without being mobbed by crazed girls and media leeches; three years of being able to sleep at night, and getting his novels done on time... three years without his loud singing in the shower, without sweet attempts at cooking and cleaning... three years without him...
It was a little lonely, sure, but the benefits outweighed the disadvantages, right?
Whatever.
Yuki sighed and picked up the CD. "So what if I miss him?" he muttered, staring at the picture on the cover.
It featured a boy in his early twenties, sitting on the remains of a tree staring off and away from the camera. Waves foamed below his feet, and behind him, on two other driftwood trees, stood the other members of the band: a slim teen with short green hair, the other older-looking with longer hair.
Yuki didn't care about them. He was too busy staring at the boy in the center, who was looking entirely mysterious and depressed in a very attractive way. He looked much different from the Shuichi of three years ago. He was taller, slimmer, and far less vibrant in the sense of color. His hair was now dyed black, and his skin was porcelain pale. If it weren't for his eyes, he would look like a lifeless doll, posed for a picture on a young child's whim. His large violet eyes vibrated with emotion and were pulsating—how the photographer managed to capture this particular perfection was beyond Yuki— with defined passion.
The title was etched into the sand, and it read:
Bad Luck:
Into the Fall
Yuki put it down onto the sofa with a sigh. He didn't listen to music. He especially didn't want to listen to that particular CD. It would bring back too many memories of taped concerts and live shows, private songs sung just for him, and late-night lyrics.
He picked up the large rectangle that was decorated with music notes and the oddly designed BL that had become Bad Luck's trademark in the last couple of years. It was a ticket; a VIP ticket. This had, on the back, Shuichi's spindly handwriting. It was obvious that it had been copied from an original and was probably printed on every ticket like Yuki's, but the novelist read it anyway.
Hey, I want to thank you so much for coming to this concert! I'm glad you like our music, and are a loyal fan. We all love you so much!
Shuichi Shindou
It was corny, but it momentarily melted Yuki's heart. Once that moment was over, he scoffed and laid it down, to pick up the other paper. This time, it was a note from his sister.
You're an idiot, Eiri Uesugi. We all thought after a few weeks you would go get Shuichi. You've dragged this on for three years.
We all know that you care for him.
Go see their concert, talk to him, and then hope it's not too late.
You have to go to New York anyway for a book signing; it's not that much out of the way.
Yuki glared down at the paper before crumbling it up and tossing it across the room.
"I won't go," he sighed, closing his eyes.
"I'm loosing sight
Don't count on me
I chase the sun
It chases me!
You know my name
You know my face
You'd know my heart
If you knew my place!
You know my heart
You know my gaze
You'd know my heart
If you knew your place!
I'll walk straight down,
As far as I can go!
I'll follow you
(If) you follow me;
I don't know why
You lie so clean
I break right through the irony...
I hate this wait!"
Shuichi screamed with all his might with the last line of the song, the pre-recorded music fading behind him.
Panting, he waited for either K or Reiji to say it was good to go.
Outside the recording booth, K was shaking his head. "That kid has some good breath control."
Reiji nodded in agreement. She looked over at the sound engineer and he flashed a thumbs up. The girl waved for Shuichi to come out of the booth.
Shuichi trudged out. "Ahh… I'm thirsty," he rasped, grabbing his water.
"If you keep screaming like that, you'll kill your vocal cords," Hiro noted, looking up from his guitar.
Shuichi smiled softly. "I'm fine, Hiro. I know when to stop. Singing is the most important thing in the world to me."
"That's the spirit!" Reiji exclaimed, slamming her hand down onto the table. "Have faith in the young genius!"
"Now I wouldn't go so far as to call Shindou-kun a genius," Suguru cut in.
"He managed to learn English in two years!"
"That's because it was for my music, Reiji," Shuichi said happily. "Anyway, K, what was the thing you had to tell us after recording?"
K looked up from polishing his gun. "Oh. A drummer. The songs are getting a little too much for a synth player, and since you have a drummer during your concerts, we think you should hire one."
Shuichi thought for a moment. "Why not? That okay with you guys?" he asked. Hiro and Suguru shrugged.
Reiji grinned. "That's wonderful! I already have just the boy!" she said, laughing.
Shuichi edged away from the maniacal producer. "Anyway… Hiro, can I run some new stuff past you later?"
"Sure. Lyrics again?"
Shuichi smiled. "Yeah."
Lately, Shuichi had taken to writing his own lyrics again. They got polished up by a professional after Shuichi had finished them. Before the vocalist had learned English completely, he had them translated, polished, then translated again. It was a tiring process, but completely worth it. Currently, Bad Luck dominated the charts with their dark rock n' roll songs. Girls loved brooding Asian pretty boys.
Later, Shuichi and Hiro sat together in XMR's café, going over Shuichi's new lyrics.
It's a crime/ You let it happen to me/ Never mind, I'll let it happen to you/ Forget it/ There's nothing to lose/ But my mind/ And all the things I wanted/ You're the part of me/ That I don't want to see… There's a place/ I see you fall over me/ It's a taste/ Of all that might come to be...
Hiro scanned the rest. "Shuichi, really… Where do you come up with this stuff?" he asked. "I have to worry about your mental state sometimes."
Shuichi sipped his tea, staring over the rim of the cup at his friend. "You've known I was insane," he said, setting down his cup, "Ever since you met me. I've know I was insane the moment I realized that Yuki would never love me," Shuichi purred, pressing his hand to his heart in an almost feminine manner. He was trying to joke around, but it came across too sincere for it to be teasing.
Hiro sighed. "Shuichi," he said softly. "It's been three years." He worried about his friend, he really did. After crying for a week straight, Shuichi went and dyed his hair, then dived into his music, heart and soul. It was how Shuichi lived now; it was like he was only visiting the world of speech.
"I know you don't quite understand, but that's a wound to me that I can't heal. Not even with my music… It's a lot easier to write lyrics when no one's breathing down your neck about how bad they are!" he laughed joyously. Shuichi caught the concerned look on Hiro's face, and he softened.
Leaning forward, he patted the guitarist on the shoulder. "I'm older and more mature now Hiro. I know I still love him, and it hurts. That's all. I know I'm lonely, and I'm a bit cracked in the head. But I won't do anything more drastic than crowd-surf at a concert."
Hiro chuckled. "If you crowd-surfed, all the girls would grope you, Shu-chan."
Shuichi seemed a bit disturbed at the idea. "Okay, so maybe I won't."
Hiro smiled at his friend. "Are you sure?"
"Hai, Hiro-sama, daijobu!" Shuichi exclaimed in Japanese, bowing against the table.
Hiro laughed and ruffled Shuichi's hair. "I've got to go, I'm expecting a phone call."
"Ayaka-chan?" Shuichi teased. "Go, go!" he laughed, waving his friend away.
Once Hiro was gone, Shuichi leaned back into his chair, drinking his cooling tea. He sighed. "Sleep… I need sleep," he mumbled, gathering his lyrics book.
He knew he was going home to an empty apartment; to a cold bed where he would spend the night tossing and turning, longing for something he would never have again.