Chapter One—Mark My Words

A winter downpour clattered to the dark streets below, which reflected an equally dark sky above. The sky moaned and growled, complaining to the citizens below and warning them of the oncoming storm. Street lights flickered, casting more shadows unto the already black pit of a city. Eiri Yuki stared out his window with downcast eyes. He watched the sidewalks. Watched as a random person every now and again walked through the desolate area, one of every two carrying a big black umbrella over their heads to protect them from the drenching rain.

Sighing, Eiri pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled a cigarette out of the box. He pushed the box back into his pocket and reached into another, pulling out a lighter. With practiced ease, Eiri lit his cigarette, disposed of the lighter, and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a waterfall of smoke. He tore his gaze from the empty streets below and returned with a sullen grace in his step to his desk. He kicked the chair toward him and seated himself, quickly spinning back to face the screen of his laptop. Eiri's cigarette hung loosely from the corner of his mouth as his fingers worked wonders upon the keyboard. Ideas flowed like lava across the page—slow, but engulfing everything in its path.

And so Eiri Yuki's long night began.

Shuichi flashed his wide, contagious grin as he darted through the hallways; a torn, crumpled paper in one hand, a pencil in the other.

"Yuuuuuukiiiii!" He shrieked, rounding the corner and leaping immediately into the open lap of Eiri Yuki.

The cigarette that had been hanging loosely from the corner of Eiri's mouth fell to the floor. Before it could catch anything alight, Eiri hurriedly stomped it out. He remained silent, staring at Shuichi with angry eyes. But his anger couldn't last long. Shuichi was too cute and too flamboyant—no self-respecting person could hold a grudge against the pink-haired wonder that Eiri dared to call his "lover".

The confused novelist stared into Shuichi's face awhile longer, and finally let his guard down.

"What is it?" He sighed, impulsively reaching for Shuichi's hand, but, finding a pencil in one and paper in the other, pulled his hand back defensively. Instead, he pulled another cigarette out of his box.

Shuichi's eyes grew wider, as did his smile.

"Guess!" He cawed.

Yuki stuck the unlit cigarette in his mouth and glared into Shuichi's violet eyes, searching for clues as to Shuichi's excitement. He had ideas, but he wasn't willing to guess. Most conclusions he'd made were unrealistic, and, to some extent, perverse. In fact, Eiri's face flushed as one thought led to another, and another. He couldn't help but grin, slightly.

Shuichi studied his face for some sort of hint as to Eiri's thoughts. He didn't miss Eiri's grin.

"You pervert! No!" Shuichi cried, shoving Eiri playfully back. He added in a more hushed tone, "That's for later,"

But Shuichi's attempt at perhaps being sexy was miserably failed.

Eiri wanted to laugh. Desperately, he wanted to laugh. Shuichi's face described a tumult of emotions, all locked into those violet eyes, that awkward nose, and that ear-to-ear grin. He looked hilarious. But Eiri couldn't bring himself to laugh. Instead, he let out a long, shuddering sigh. His heart tied itself into a knot of emotion, tugging violently at his chest as he inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled.

"Yukiiii?" Shuichi's face immediately switched from his tumult of emotions to worry. He pursed his lips in a fake pout.

The chair beneath him squealed in protest.

"Just tell me, Shu. What is it?" Eiri sounded more irritated than he felt.

Shuichi stared at him, as if contemplating whether or not he should just get to the point or maybe if he should keep teasing him. In the end, he decided to just get to the point, sensing irritation from Eiri.

"I finished my lyrics!" Shuichi shrieked.

Pride turned his face golden.

Eiri glanced at the torn, crumpled paper in Shuichi's hand. He stared into Shuichi's golden face expectantly. The singer did nothing to satisfy him.

"So, you going to show me the lyrics or what?" Eiri murmured.

Shuichi stared at him for a moment longer, and then snapped back into reality with a twitch and a long gulp for air.

"Oh!" He handed Eiri the paper and jumped out of his lap happily.

The chair squealed even louder.

Eiri immediately regretted Shuichi's leaving his lap as the warmth was sucked away with him. He unfolded the paper Shuichi had given him and quickly ran through its contents. The song consisted mainly of love, love, sunshine, love, and a paradox of love and hate. Although the paradox was well thought out, (and Eiri doubted it was Shuichi's writing,) the rest of the song was unnecessary and simply awkward.

Eiri grumbled as his eyes soaked in the contours of the crumpled paper in his hand, "This is even worse than your first song."

Shuichi's jaw dropped.

"What?" He squeaked.

"80% of what you're saying is absolutely unnecessary. As I said, it's worse than your first." Eiri explained.

The explanation seemed perfectly valid to him. But, according to the expression of pure terror on Shuichi's face, it wasn't.

Shuichi pouted again, but this time it wasn't fake. Tears were already beginning to soften the corners of his eyes.

"What do you mean…worse than my first song?" Shuichi's voice gave way to a high pitched squeak. His shoulders hunched, and he stared at Eiri with a blank expression.

"I mean you need to work on it," Eiri twisted in his chair, facing his keyboard once again. His fingers padded on the keys with practiced rapidity. He spoke as he typed.

"There was a lot of repetition in those lyrics. Cut down the repetition, find some better adjectives, and use better grammar to rephrase your lines. They sounded awkward and unnecessary."

Eiri didn't have to look at Shuichi to know that the first tears had fallen, but he was merely sharing his criticism. In his mind, Shuichi had asked for criticism. It's exactly what he got. Nothing more, nothing less.

Eiri expected Shuichi to be silent and simply cry it out and write some better lyrics in an act of desperation or fall asleep on the couch, returning to the lyrics the next morning. He didn't expect Shuichi's next line of action.

"Well," Shuichi cried, "I don't care what you think!"

But, to emphasize his point, Shuichi threw the pencil that was in his hand to the floor and took his paper in both hands. He ripped it through the middle, ripped it again, and again, until the mangled remnants of his heart's lyrics were scattered along the floor.

More tears fell from Shuichi's face, which was flushed an almost purely scarlet red.

"In fact, I think I've been here long enough. You don't want me here. So why do I stay, anyway?" Shuichi rambled as tears wracked his body. He paced in circles to release the negative energy that coursed through him. He glared at Eiri, who paid no visual attention to his rant.

"I'll leave!" He threatened. "I'll leave and never come back!"

Shuichi marched out of the room with clenched fists. As soon as he left the room, Eiri saved his writing and turned in his chair, looking after Shuichi as he stomped through the hallway. Shuichi's threat had shocked Eiri, to be sure, but Eiri didn't expect him to be gone long. A day, maybe, if Shuichi could stand being away from the novelist that long. Eiri decided to let it go, and let Shuichi blow off some steam. The rock star probably needed it, anyway.

Eiri returned to his writing without a second thought while, in the other room, Shuichi cried and slammed items into suitcases, exaggerating his movements to be dramatic and perhaps catch Eiri's emotions and force him to persuade Shuichi to stay. But Eiri didn't enter, and, for some odd reason, Shuichi was glad of this.

"You're such a jerk!" Shu called from across the hallway, "You jerk! You jerk! You jerk!"

Eiri sighed and focused on his work. Shu's words stung him, but he decided to let the pain pass him by. Shuichi would get over it, they'd be together again, the pain would be stitched up, perhaps by a passionate kiss from those lips Eiri had come to cherish.

Shuichi packed his bags with a sullen expression on his face. He hoped, desperately, that Eiri wouldn't enter the room. Silent tears streaked down his face, burning on his skin like acid. Shuichi left a few items, such as a teddy bear Eiri had won for him at a fair Shu had dragged him to awhile back, a weird wall decoration he'd inherited from his grandmother, and a few other odds and ends around the house so as to make Eiri suspect he was coming back soon. When, in all reality, Shuichi Shindo had no intention of ever returning to Eiri Yuki's home, his arms, his warmth.

Once he had everything gathered together in three suitcases, Shuichi pulled one onto his back, like a backpack, and hitched the other two into his arms. He stared sullenly at the walls of the home for a long while until; finally, with gasping tears, he turned to leave. As he reached the door, Shuichi stopped, and turned around, as though he'd forgotten something.

He murmured to the house, "Mark my words, Eiri—I'm never coming back."

Shuichi shocked himself with the contempt in his voice. It was almost spiteful. It pained him to hear the words he'd never even thought of saying come from his very mouth.

With that, he turned and left, walking into the icy downpour of the dark winter night. He had no coat, nor did he have an umbrella. All he had was a choking thought that kept his heart beating with a ferocity it had never known before. Through the chilled wilderness of the night, Shuichi was warmer than he'd ever been in his life. His body caught fever, and, as he struggled onward, his heart pounded against his chest, screaming at him to return to Eiri's comforting arms.

This time, he wouldn't listen.

He absolutely refused.

He couldn't listen.

Even if his own life were in danger, Shuichi Shindo would not listen to his heart. The half that worked in his best interest, that is.