Sorry, everyone, but this will be the last chapter of this fic for a long time – I was originally going to say that I would just have it discontinued, but that;s just too final and I couldn't do it. So, I'm just thinking of this as a hiatus – hopefully just until I can get some more inspiration on this.

Yuki sat on the couch, determinedly not looking at Tohma. Or rather, determinedly not answering his questioning gaze. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Tohma decided to attempt to break the tension.

"You know, smoking is very bad for you, Eiri-san."

Okay, so perhaps not breaking the tension.

"Tohma, just get to the point. Why are you here."

Tohma was unperturbed, used to to Yuki's rudeness. His face showed nothing but calm.

"Must I have an excuse to visit my brother-in-law?"

Yuki glared.

"Yes, Tohma, you do. I know how your mind works. Just spit it out."

Tohma kept his smile fixed in place.

"Eiri-san... you know I care for you very deeply..."

"Damn it, Tohma! Brother-in-law you might be but that doesn't give you an excuse to run my life for me! I'll talk to whoever I want, and I think I'm old enough to decide for myself who I'll start a relationship with!"

Tohma's eyes sharpened.

"So there is something going on."

"I didn't say that! You're twisting my words, Tohma, and you know it!"

Tohma decided on his usual direct approach.

"Who was the young man I saw exit the apartment, Yuki?"

"Nobody. A baka who drank too much and was sobering up at my place."

"That's all?"

Yuki would very much have liked to hit his brother-in-law in the face right then, but restrained himself – just. He did, after all, owe him something after... well, after everything.

"Yes, Tohma, that's all. Now, do you mind? I have work, and so do you. Get out."

Tohma wisely did so – of course, he reminded himself, it was not a retreat... merely a tactical decision.

"Eiri-san, just be careful. I do care, despite what you think. And so do other people. Don't cut us off."

Yuki disdained to reply, slamming the door in Tohma's face. He stood staring – or rather glaring – at the door for a long time, before swearing and lighting up another cigarette.

---

Two hours and three cigarettes later, the computer screen flashed before Yuki's eyes. Blank. It was completely blank; not because Yuki had written nothing, but because Yuki had written two pages, sworn explosively for exactly one minute, then deleted every word in sight. Crap. That's what it all was. Crap.

"All crap", he muttered, angry at himself. "A romance novelist that doesn't believe a word he writes. How ironic."

Bet -he- would have a laugh.

Now furious with himself for even thinking along those lines, Yuki abandoned the office and jabbed on the television, hoping for a distraction.

He got one.

"And so", said the too-chirpy reporter on screen, "Bad Luck has officially decided on dates for the tours, which can be found in this week's-"

But Yuki was no longer listening to the reporter, but staring at the screen in both amazement and a certain kind of horror. For there, right in front of him and looking him, it seemed, straight in the eye, was a very familiar pink-haired male...

"Fuck."

That was the only word that could possibly describe, thought Yuki, what he was feeling right now. Nothing else in his extensive vocabulary came even close.

"... Shuichi Shindou, lead singer of Bad Luck, and now in the top music chart..."

Oh Gods, this was just too fucked-up. Out of all the people in the entire world, he just had to pick up the one drunken singer of Bad Luck, who just happened to be the most idiotic, hyperactive, immature, completely moronic person Yuki had ever met...

"Fuuuuuuuuck!"

So why in the hell could Yuki not stop thinking about him!

---

"And I'm sure he's real nice, if you look pretty deep down, Hiro!"

Hiro threw up his hands in mock-despair.

"I don't get it, Shu. You met this guy for one night – not even that, because you were asleep for most of it – and now you're completely obsessed with him."

"I'm not!" pouted Shuichi, indignantly.

There was a moment's silence.

"... But did you see the TV the other day? That was him being interviewed, I'm sure of it! And you said his name was Yuki Eiri, and that's the guy! Can you believe I actually met someone famous? That's so cool!"

"Uh, Shu? You're famous now. So what's the big deal? Out whole band's famous – we've been on the news and we've done interviews – just wait 'til the tour!"

"Yeah, I know, but did you see-"

"Shuichi! Calm down, and think for a minute. Lyrics. Have you come up with any yet?"

Shuichi looked slightly panicked.

"Um... I'm working on them?"

Hiro shook his head, sighing. Yeah, Shuichi was a great singer, and quite possibly a great song-writer too, but...

"We need lyrics, Shuichi. Original one's, and fast. If we're going to do the songs at the tour , we'll need the lyrics and new songs ready."

Shuichi stood up, face set in determination.

"Don't worry, Hiro – you will have your lyrics. I'll make up a song so cool that even Sakuma Ryuichi will sit up and listen!"

Hiro raised one eyebrow.

"Tough call, Shu. Listen, I have to go back, but just keep working on it, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Hiro, and I swear I'll finish it on time."

Hiro nodded and let himself out, wondering if this was one promise that Shuichi might have trouble keeping.

Meanwhile, Shuichi looked despairingly down at his piece of paper, marked all over with scribbles, doodles, and crossed out words.

"I need some inspiration", he groaned.

Briefly, an image of a face set in a scowl appeared in his head, but Shuichi tried not to think about that, and instead got out some strawberry pockey. Returning to his chair, he ate thoughtfully, trying without success to think of anything, -anything!- to inspire him with some lyrics.