I lie when I tell you I know what I'm talking about. And I almost always lie when I say I'm nearly there. This thing is far from finished -ashamed- I am going to finish this fic even if it kills me, and when I look back, it will be tears of joy, not of endless hours of omygodiwannakillmyselfGAHHHHH. Thanks for being on the ride with me so far, and THANK YOU for your patience.

---

When Shuichi was two years into his relationship with Yuki, they had their first big fat fight after the New York incident. It wasn't the usual fight, meaning Shuichi left home for three days and then Yuki persuaded him to come back again and they made up and all was well, but it was the sort of fight that left Shuichi too distraught to speak, eat, least of all sing, and Yuki had to be admitted to the hospital for over exhaustion and distress; Mika had found him slumped in the apartment over his table, blood soaking up his shirt.

He didn't even know what had been the subject of their argument, but he remembered all too well the amount of scary pills Yuki had to take, and the many nightmares that awoken the both of them up well into the aftermath. He remembered that his voice took a full two months to recover and how long it had taken for him to smile again.

If there was one advantage to the fight, it was that Shuichi knew that it was the benchmark of their relationship, the bar where high jumpers had to scale in order to win. He knew that whatever it was, they were fine as long as nothing topped that argument.. Nobody would vomit blood, nobody would require antidepressants and most of all, nobody would leave.

So he did not freak out when Yuki Eiri slammed the door on him and threaten to spend the night with a pretty girl –well, he was sure Yuki would not do that but if he did, then Shuichi would deal with it in the morning, and not a moment before—he merely whistled and tried to cajole the cat into playing with him, who by the way, wasn't the least bit interested. She stretched out her paws and yawned in response to his offending hands, and went back to sleep.

The phone rang at three in the morning, and Shuichi had fallen asleep by then, totally not waiting for Yuki on the carpet by the couch and facing the door. He grinned triumphantly and waited till the fifth ring before he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey," said a voice which sounded like Yuki, but one which Shuichi would never mistake for Yuki.

"Hey, Tatsuha," Shuichi answered, just a little disappointed. Just a little.

"Shuichi." Tatsuha sounded surprised, and a little hushed. "Uh, is Yuki there?"

"No. Didn't you call his cell?"

"I couldn't get him," Tatsuha said.

That's because he probably shut off his phone, Shuichi thought wryly. "Yeah, he's not back yet. Maybe you can try tomorrow." When he's sober and mellow and totally not in a pissy mood. When Tatsuha was silent –very very uncharacteristic of him, usually he would pepper their conversations with dirty jokes—Shuichi asked curiously, "Why, what's up? Anything you want me to pass to him when he gets home?"

There was nervous laughter at the other end of the line. "Ah, nothing you can help me with, midget," Tatsuha said obnoxiously, quelling any ounce of concern Shuichi had for him a second ago.

"Hey!" Shuichi gripped the phone tightly with his fingers. "I've grown an inch since last year, all right?"

Tatsuha laughed again. Shuichi wanted to sock him. They were all arrogant bastards, all three of them. "Right," Tatsuha drawled.

"Seriously," Shuichi rolled his eyes. "He'll be back any minute," he lied. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"Ah, okay." A long pause. "Just tell him that I'm going to run the temple okay? And ask him not to butt his nose where it doesn't belong. It's my decision to make, not his."

When Shuichi was silent, Tatusha barked into the phone. "Oi, midget, are you listening to me?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good. I got to go now. So remember to tell aniki okay? Bye." –Click-

---

It gnawed on his insides for the whole day. It festered in his stomach, and grew and grew until he was certain it held a shadow over him. In his mind were all these…questions he didn't have answers to, all the confusion he was feeling regarding the secret, and why was it supposed to be kept from him. They spoke to him the whole day, the fears and the questions, like a bee that was trapped in the house and didn't know how to get out so it kept buzzing and buzzing, and buzzing.

"Shuichi are you listening to me!" K-san barked from across the table, wielding a chopstick dangerously.

Hiro laughed, gulping down a maguro sushi. "Probably had some last night," he mumbled through his food. Nobody blinked. They were all used to kissing and telling within the band.

It shouldn't be a big deal, Tatsuha running the temple, right? Except that it was because Yuki didn't want him to know. He thought about it, and came up with a few possible scenarios but each sounded sillier than the next.

"Yarrrrrgggh!" He threw his arms up in frustration. The whole band stopped, food in their mouths and cups in hands, to look up at him. The rest of their contingent who occupied the other two tables in the sushi-ya also stopped to stare at Shuichi who was pulling his hair into knots.

Suguru rolled his eyes, and stood up. "Gonna go get more food," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely and pushed his chair away.

"Get me more tamago," one of the sound engineers called out from the second table. Kouchi, that was his name. He pulled a face when Suguru told him to get his own.

"I don't get it," Shuichi wailed, nuzzling his face into the shoulder of the person nearest to him –Sakano was the unlucky victim. He patted his shoulder nervously and asked Shuichi whether he was okay.

"I don't get it!" Shuichi said again, peering helplessly at Hiro sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Why not?" Hiro humoured him, drinking sake from his cup. He burped a few times, patting his belly happily.

"Why is it such a big deal? It's just the temple!" Seriously, it was. He didn't get it. He wanted so badly to ask Yuki when he came home that morning, sober and mellowed from what must have been a drinking binge. But they weren't on speaking terms, and Yuki was unapproachable when he had a hangover, which meant no making up. Maybe he would have forgotten the fight by the time Shuichi clocked out later that night. He certainly did not mention it when he let himself into the house. Plus he had woken Shuichi up to go to work too, and that was a good sign, although maybe he was just a little rough was he kicked him in the ribs.

"You should just ask him outright Shuichi. Seriously." When someone asked Hiro what was wrong with Shuichi, he shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno, I'm just going along. It's Shuichi." As if that explained everything. But it must have, because there was a look of understanding on Daisuke's face, and he went back to his food.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Shuichi asked himself hesitantly.

"Yup," Hiro replied, nodding. "Ask him tonight, after you get back from the conference."

"What conference?" he asked dumbly, and was rewarded with a sputtering of expletives from the man two seats away from him.

"I'm going to kill him," K-san growled dangerously while others tried to placate him. "The press conference, you dumbass!"

When Shuichi remained clueless three seconds later, Hiro sighed very heavily and explained as patiently as he could. "I fucked up. Press conference to explain my fucking up? To clean up the mess I made? Remember?"

"Oh!" He had forgotten about it. He grinned sheepishly at Hiro.

"Listen up," K-san snapped. "Orders from the top. Ayaka and Hiro parted amicably. He wishes her well. Slight misunderstanding between the two of you-" Hiro and Shuichi exchanged glances at this point. He flushed slightly in embarrassment and of guilt. Why do I always have to be your lifejacket? Shuichi glanced away, tuning back in to what K was talking about "—and to take their minds off this little tiff, we would have an announcement to make."

"What announcement?" Suguru asked, having returned to the table with a big wooden board laden with sushi.

"The release date of Bad Luck's latest album," K-san finished calmly.

"But that's…months away," Shuichi wondered out loud.

"Not anymore."

"WHAT?" Twenty voices piped up in unison, all eyes turning to the manager.

Shuichi's cry was louder than everyone else's. They were already behind schedule, and K-san wanted to bump up their release date? What the hell is that man on?

"Just when do you plan on it being released?" Kouchi spoke up tentatively, echoing the questions of the many voices whispering to each other.

"Three months from now," K-san said calmly, promptly ignoring the pandemonium that broke out after that.

"You can't…that's too soon!"

"We are already behind!"

"What the hell, we don't even have enough selection of songs to go into post production."

"We're already working overtime for this album."

Someone said, "We can't do it if Shuichi doesn't get his act moving." Two others agreed with him, but when Shuichi whipped around indignantly to see the culprit, he was faced with seven people pointedly not looking at him.

"He will get his act done," K said firmly, and he looked at Shuichi in the eye as he said it.

"Even so," Hiro voiced out worriedly. "Three months is too short. We don't have enough songs."

"We do. NG has already bought the rights to several wonderful songs written by a few famous names in the industry. All you have to do is—"

Shuichi slammed his fist on the table. "I won't sing another person's songs," he said quietly. The attention switched to him. He tried not to cower at nineteen scrutinizing gazes. Strange. He could take on a million fans gazing adoringly at him but not his team. Perhaps it was the fact that nobody treated him as Shuichi the singer, he thought darkly, as opposed to Shuichi the midget.

K smiled at him grimly. "Alas, Shuichi, that is not your choice to make at this moment."

"I won't. And it's final." He sat back down, having stood up so suddenly a few

minutes before at K's declaration. He stared at his plate, his sushi untouched. He didn't feel hungry anymore.

"Maa…Shuichi," Sakano soothed, putting a shaky hand on his shoulder. "Three months is certainly too short to write enough songs. Besides, the songs that NG has the rights to, they will be big hits."

"No," he answered petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But I thought Shuichi-san sang a song Yuki Eiri wrote before, a few years back," some rookie had the nerve to say.

"That's different, I sleep with him," Shuichi snapped.

"Is the three months deadline non-negotiable?" Suguru piped up, filling the silence that Shuichi had caused.

"Non-negotiable," K-san confirmed.

"We don't have a choice then." Suguru's voice was business-like and he too sat back down.

"Don't even think about it," Shuichi warned Suguru. He couldn't. They couldn't. Singing was his responsibility. And singing the songs that he himself wrote was his own damn responsibility. Nobody could take it away from him.

Suguru sighed, gearing himself for the battle he was about to start. "Three months, Shuichi. We don't have time. Look at the facts here. You are already behind. Three months of toiling and what have you got? Ten songs. That's too little and you know it."

"I'll give you another ten songs by the end of this week."

"No you won't. Something will come up. You will have another fight, Yuki will disrupt your performance. It's always like this, Shuichi. You won't be able to write another ten songs by this week."

Murmurs of agreement rose around them. Shuichi felt sick. The familiar dread in his stomach grew. He looked to Hiro for support. "Hiro?" He would support him. They were in this together. Music was their blood. As long as he had Hiro for support, he could get past it.

"Suguru's right, Shuichi," Hiro said quietly.

He didn't have the time to process what it meant. But his hand which was holding the sake cup automatically raised itself.

"Shuichi," K-san said his name slowly and clearly, pronouncing every syllable. "This is not a choice. It's not written in Bad Luck's contract that they have the rights to all their songs. Meaning you do as the company says. NG has been kind enough to let you exercise your ability as song-writer all this while but time is short now and you don't have a choice."

"I'll give you another ten songs by the end of this week," Shuichi said firmly, almost begging now.

K-san sighed. "You always say that, and you always go back on your word. We don't have anymore time to spare and—"

"One week," Shuichi interjected. "Then I'll sing the songs that other people wrote."

Another round of expletives by K-san was enough to send the sushi master wincing, and he came over skittishly to the table and asked them nervously, albeit politely, to shut up because they were frightening his customers away. They were. Any potential customer who walked into the sushi-ya was immediately terrified by the yakuza-like confrontation and turned their heels to walk the other way, probably to the rival sushi-ya just opposite the road. The master was crying with frustration by the time his fifteenth customer hurried out of the restaurant, a harassed look on her face.

"How about this, K-san," Sakano proposed, inserting a calmer, much needed tone into the conversation. "We go ahead with the schedule, meaning we prep the band for songs that we have the rights to. In the meantime, Shuichi should concentrate on writing his songs whenever there is a break. And if he can come up with the extra ten by the end of the week like he promised to and if the songs meet the criteria, then we will only use his songs, and no one else's."

Another murmur of approval went round the table. Shuichi thought he heard Hiro say, "That's a good proposal, why didn't I think of that?" The feeling of something-or-other popped up again, and he didn't know just what that was but he felt sick yet again, and the words 'why do I always have to be your lifejacket' popped to his mind like a rocket so he resolutely shoved them into the furthest corners of his thoughts where didn't need to deal with them until he absolutely must. He focused on the rest of the people instead.

"That's a better idea," K-san said slowly. He looked over at Shuichi and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I could deal with that," he agreed grudgingly. He would have been a lot more spirited and determined if only the rest of his team didn't look so smug and sure that he would not be able to keep his promise.

"Ok!" K pumped his fist into the air, looking again like the manager everyone was used to. "Let's go then. Chop chop. Kouichi get the check."

"Hai…"

By the time lunch time was over, everyone's spirit had left their bodies. There wasn't much to look forward to, merely hours and hours of overtime and a rising number of cigarette sticks. They trudged out of the sushi-ya one by one, each trying to prop his comrade up by muttering words of encouragement, but seriously, who were they kidding? They knew what lay ahead.

Shuichi was the last to leave. He hung around in the restaurant until he saw Hiro pile into the first van along with Suguru, K and the temp drummer. Then he asked politely for a pen and paper from Sakano who was waiting for him by the door of the second van.

He had enough fodder to write about, he thought grimly as he pushed his way to the very back of the vehicle.

By the time the van reached the studios of NG, he already had one song in the pocket.

One down, nine to go.

---

When Hiro finally cornered him in the bathroom, Shuichi had nowhere to run. He'd been clever, sticking himself to the couch in the crowded production room all afternoon. There was no way Hiro could confront him there. It was not to say he didn't try. He had sat down next to Shuichi when everybody else was busy with pressing buttons and frowning at computer screens and chewing pens. But he was smart, he had shrieked loudly at the exact moment Hiro opened his mouth, and launched into a lengthy diatribe about how he would never be able to finish his songs and bolted out of the room. As usual, nobody blinked. It provided the perfect opportunity for him to escape though.

After that, he secluded himself on the rooftop, or more specifically, behind a huge plant on the rooftop. There he found peace, and even though Hiro came up a few times to look for him, the huge leaves did a wonderful job of camouflaging him. Alas, nature had other intentions.

He would not even show his face if he did not need to pee that badly. At first, he tried the bathroom on the third floor, but as luck would have it, it was closed for maintenance. The one on the second floor had four occupied cubicles and one which wouldn't close properly. He figured, what were the chances he and Hiro needed to pee at the same time?

The chances were pretty damn big, he scowled to himself as Hiro shoved him up against the bathroom wall. "There you are," he drawled slowly, before letting Shuichi down. He breathed a sigh of relief as his feet touched ground again. Hiro had a sick sense of humour.

"How long are you going to keep avoiding me?" Hiro asked, when Shuichi tried to wash his hands. Tried, because Hiro took his wrists and pulled them so hard he couldn't move them.

"I'm not avoiding you," Shuichi denied, looking for a way out. He peered past Hiro's shoulder but he realized what Shuichi was doing because he stepped into his field of vision and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Don't even think about it."

Shuichi sighed then, and gave up trying to bail. "I'm not avoiding you," he said again, this time, with a smile that rivaled a thousand suns.

Hiro ignored him. "Shuichi, I'm not sorry for my opinion this afternoon. It still stands. But I am sorry I was such a lousy friend."

In any other circumstances, he would have understood. Hiro was the logical half of the both of them. In any other circumstances, he would even agree with Hiro, in the end anyway. But he was tired, close to hyperventilating, Yuki had things he didn't want him to know, he didn't want Hiro to think of him as useless, even he himself thought his chances of finishing the songs were bleak and most of all, he really didn't want to sing a song somebody else wrote. He did not need Hiro to tell him which was the right choice at that exact moment; he would have had to come to terms with it sooner or later. What he needed was for Hiro to support him, because really, he didn't think he could do it by himself. Even his best friend thought he couldn't do it, so what hope did he have left in him?

Deep breaths, deep breaths, he kept telling himself, because he felt something rise up inside of him, like a crest of a wave, and he had to keep it down. Deep breaths.

When the moment passed, and Shuichi had almost forgotten Hiro was still standing there, he looked up, and saw Hiro brace himself for…something. An argument, an explosion, pummeling of fists, truckloads of tears, screaming. Standard procedure.

"I'm fine," he said instead, and watched Hiro's eyes widen in shock. "It's okay, really."

"Shuichi, I—" The look on Hiro's face was almost unbearable; distress, worry and then fear because it was uncharted territory, this was something he had never had to deal with before. But Shuichi pushed past the wave again, plastered the biggest, most genki smile he had onto his face –all the while chanting 'deep breaths, deep breaths' in his mind—and gripped the sweater he had on. He thought he might have left marks on Hiro's skin because his fist had been burrowed so tightly into it.

"I'm fine."

When he walked out of the bathroom, Hiro was still standing there.

The conversation had been hollow after that. He returned to the studio, sat in his couch and wrote diligently until it was time to get ready for the conference. He laughed and played along when Suguru stole the drummer's sticks and refused to return them. Only Hiro had sat in one corner, a cigarette in his mouth, a thin smile ready on his lips whenever someone happened to look in his direction.

Something had changed. Shuichi wasn't sure what it was but he thought that they might have just broken up.