DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies.

AN: Wooo. So here he is: Shindou Shuichi! He's pretty collected for a Shuichi, but at the core he's still a bit of a mess. This chapter, hm, well it gets a little choppy near the end, but it was the only way I could think to do it. Sorry if the end bits feel rushed... Anypoo, enjoy.

WARNING: Explicit lyrics. Also, implied hot man sex.

“Love you get over in two months, big love you get over in two years, and great love, well great love... changes your life. So which one is it?” – Angelica, Win a Date with Tad Hamilton

Shuichi

For a minute there, with Yuki smiling at me, all covered in mud and looking vulnerable, it was almost like things were back to normal. Like we were back in time a year or so. Like that had never happened. Like Yuki had never said those things. Like I had never said those things. But then a cold breeze blew up the back of my neck and ruined everything. It was icy, just like Yuki’s eyes that night. Just like the cruelly truthful things he’d said. Just like my heart.

I felt my smile die and watched in silent horror as Yuki’s disappeared as well. That year had happened. Bad Luck had become an international success. I had a whole team of people answering my fan mail. I had paparazzi breathing down my neck. I was a household name everywhere. I was totally different than I had been then. Or, at least I faked it well.

I stared at Yuki, still divine in his internal misery. Still made me want to die, even with puffy red eyes and covered in mud. I was in serious trouble here. I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, but a confession after all this time? Yuki saying he loved me? I never expected that. Never ever. My heart was pounding painfully in my chest. Yuki broke eye contact, looking down at the ground, the consecrated ground of Kitazawa Yuki. I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding in. There was so much to say, so much to tell Yuki, and yet so much that I couldn’t say. I’d made a decision way back then. A decision that involved a life decidedly without Yuki Eiri. But, if that had been the right decision, why did I feel so empty?

Yuki pulled out a cigarette, his long, nicotine stained fingers fumbling with the lighter. That’s when it started to break loose, the ball of something that had been growing in my chest for a year. Every time I saw someone who had Yuki’s mannerisms, or height, or colouring; every time I thought I saw Yuki, this thing threatened to break loose. It was the part of me that loved Yuki totally; it was the part of me that had no control over my emotions, or anything, really. It was the part of me that insisted I still wear his ring around my neck, if not on my hand when no one was looking. It was the part of me that was forcing me to my feet and holding out my hand to him.

The other part of me screamed: STUPID STUPID STUPID! I sighed softly. Fine, I was stupid. But let’s face it: I’d be anything for Yuki. He looked at my hand, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, expression both drained and confused. I could do this. I could do this without falling to pieces. I could help Yuki. His hand closed around mine and I knew I’d just lied to myself. I couldn’t do this without falling apart, but he didn’t have to know. After all, I’d fooled the whole wide world for a year now. Regaining my senses, I pulled Yuki from the ground and started walking out of that fucking cemetery. If I never came here and saw Kitazawa’s grave again, it would be too soon. Yuki was uncharacteristically submissive as he let me lead him down the crowded New York streets. I wasn’t really sure where I was going, but I knew there was big hotel near the cemetery; Sakuma-san had made me a map. The problem was that his writing was so damn illegible...

I felt Yuki’s grip slacken on my hand momentarily and twisted to see why. I was terrified that he was going to wake up from his stupor, realize that he still didn’t want me, and leave me alone in the city I despise. I was both relieved and heartbroken to see that someone had simply bumped into him and knocked him loose of me. For a minute, my body refused to cooperate and I simply stared at him. He stood out even here, an angel in a muddy trenchcoat. How had I lived without him? How had I found the power to face each day without hearing his voice? Finally my feet responded to the maddening beat of my heart and I ran to him, grabbing his hand with selfish ferocity. It was that same feeling I felt way back then, when Ayaka had tried to take him from me. Yuki is mine.

“I won’t leave you.”

Yuki’s surprise echoed my own as I realized that I was the one who’d said that. I’d thought that those sentiments had died a year ago. I thought that my ridiculous dependency had fallen to pieces with one last harsh statement. A declination of love bathed in insult. Typical Eiri stuff, really, but that whole mess had been too raw and too honest. The truth was, I’d simply buried it deep. I never stopped loving him. I never stopped crying myself to sleep, long after Suguru and Hiro had passed out. I never stopped dreaming about him.

Yuki’s face scrunched up into an expression I hadn’t seen from him before and I realized that he was in a really bad place. Did he still think I was a ghost? Was this too much for him? No, I wouldn’t leave him. But this time, it wouldn’t be for me. This time I’d stay for him.

“We’re almost there, Yuki,” I forced a whisper.

He nodded once in agreement and I just about wrapped my arms around him then. Instead, I put on my superstar mask and continued pulling him behind me. Finally, we reached a building that looked decidedly hotel-y. I licked my lips and looked at my little hand-drawn map. I couldn’t read Sakuma’s handwriting to save my life. Shrugging, I hoped that this was the right hotel. He’d said that it was one he used often and that it was good for anonymity. I pulled Yuki inside, breathing in the wave of warm air that blew at us as we entered the door. I was at the desk before I realized that I was still tugging Yuki behind me like a lost puppy.

Fumbling with my wallet, I started speaking in Japanese, barely noticing that the receptionist had asked me to wait a moment in English. I waited impatiently, pushing my sunglasses onto the top of my head. Setting down my wallet on the marble desktop, I rubbed my eyes wearily. With my other hand, I fiddled aimlessly with the ring on Yuki’s finger. The ring. On Yuki’s finger. I turned my head slowly, dull realization hitting me slowly. I opened my hand, letting Yuki’s rest gently on my palm. The ring. He still wore it.

I felt my brow furrow. Why? Why would he still wear it? Why, after he said those things? After I said those things? I looked up into his radiant face and he exhaled softly when my eyes met his. God, he was broken. What had I done to him?

“Konban wa. Nan de shou ka?”

“Nani?” I mumbled before realizing that the desk clerk had brought over another girl.

The girl couldn’t have been more than seventeen, her blonde hair streaked with bright red; she really didn’t fit in a place like this. I blinked at her and then shook my head.

“You work here?” I asked stupidly.

She laughed, her huge blue eyes crinkling up nicely. I smiled tiredly at my own stupidity. I was surprised that Yuki, even in this state, didn’t have a snide comment to make. It was a testament to how on edge he really was. I squeezed his fingers subconsciously and started to speak to the girl again.

“Sorry, I need to book a room.”

“Just one?” she asked in Japanese, looking pointedly at Yuki.

I smiled lightly. “Just one.”

Like hell I was leaving him alone. Besides, I’m sure I could control myself, especially given his current mental state. Nothing to worry about.

She turned to the computer screen, typing away.

“Name?”

I sighed again. “Shindou Shuichi,” I mumbled, my mind focussed elsewhere, like on the little white gold band around Yuki’s ring finger, matching the one which felt like it was burning a hole through my chest right now.

“Shuichi? Shuichi Shindou?” The girl’s voice had gotten a bit excited and I suddenly realized my blunder.

I clenched my teeth together. “Er, is it too late to change it to Fred Flintstone?”

The girl smiled knowingly and started typing. “Fred Flintstone it is.”

We cleared up all the details, you know, no calls, no visitors, no press. It was Seguchi-san’s staple line of our world tour. No calls, no visitors, no press. No calls, no visitors, no press. A horrible little mantra. I might write a song about it one day. Just as we were getting ready to leave the desk, my little gold card safely stowed back in my wallet, the girl spoke again.

“Wait, you...you’re Eiri Yuki,” she said in quiet wonder.

My heart plummeted. How did she know what Yuki looked like? I looked up at him and he looked at her in silent bemusement. I could see where the line between professionalism and fanaticism had been crossed. She could keep her cool with me, but me with Eiri Yuki, a man I had denounced as my lover publicly and often since that day – well, that was something else entirely. Something even the American press would pay for.

“Please,” I said softly, my eyes pleading with her.

Her face dropped suddenly. “Shindou-san, I am a huge fan of Bad Luck. I would never...I mean...I wouldn’t...”

“Thank you,” Yuki said in flawless English. I stared at Yuki in surprise and the girl looked like she was about to pass out.

Yuki tugged my hand gently, directing me towards the elevator. Just like that, we’d switched roles again. There was a couple in the elevator with us; the woman kept staring at me suspiciously. I pushed my sunglasses back over my eyes and pretended to be fixing my hair in the mirror until the elevator stopped and the couple stepped out. As the doors closed, I heard her say: “I swear, it was that guy, that Shuichi guy, from that band!”

I exhaled loudly and pushed my glasses up on my head. Yuki spared me a glance, his face looking even more tired than it had earlier. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. It made me feel the need to speak, just to fill the air, lighten the mood.

“It gets old,” I said with a shrug, “People always wanting a piece of you.”

Yuki said nothing as he stared forward, his image projecting back at him from the shiny elevator door. At long last, the door opened and I stepped out. Yuki hesitated and then stepped out behind me, speaking so quietly I almost missed it.

“I thought it was what you wanted.”

That little ball of something, which I had managed to push down again, clawed its way upwards again. It was screaming retribution in the simplest way possible: ALL I WANTED WAS YOU! I pushed it down once more. Music was my life, sure, but fame? Fame ruined my life. I pushed on down the hallway even though the walls seemed to be closing in on me. The keycard slipped from my fingers, tumbling to the ground. I felt like crying, which was so idiotic. To cry over a keycard falling to the floor? To cry over a relationship that had died a year ago? All of it – stupid, stupid, stupid.

I bent down quickly and grabbed the card from the ground, my fingers scraping roughly against the carpeting, the salty burn of unshed tears in my eyes. I took a long, deep breath and opened the door with ease, the tears having disappeared again. Yuki followed me into the dark room, closing the door behind him. I kept pushing on forward, pulling my shoes off in the hallway, habit being too difficult to break at this moment, and surveyed the room. Two nightstands, a king size bed, a flat screen television, a sitting room by the window, and an oversized bathroom. Pretty standard fair. I turned back around and froze. Yuki stood in the hallway, staring at the ground. Something suddenly felt wrong, I realized. Somewhere between the cemetery and the hotel room, I had lost sight of what I was doing. Somewhere along that convoluted path, I had become selfish, old Shuichi. And that Shuichi wanted a hot shower. And that Shuichi had forgotten that he had made Eiri break down into tears. And that Shuichi didn’t care. But, I wasn’t that Shuichi anymore.

“Yuki?”

I approached him slowly, as though he were a rabid beast. Maybe in some ways he was. “Would you like a shower, Yuki?”

I needed to avoid his tears and anger. I needed to avoid my own.

Yuki looked at me, his face contorted in disbelief as I stared up at him.

“A shower?” he said, his voice thick with the tears caught in his throat, “What are you? Stupid?”

“Wha-?”

Before I even knew what was happening, Yuki had his arms wrapped around me so desperately, as though he were afraid I would disappear. I felt his tears rolling down the side of my neck.

“I need you,” he said, almost inaudibly, “but look at you. You don’t need anyone.”

That something seemed to explode into a million pieces right then, filling every part of me, driving my arms around him and pushing out the tears I’d kept locked out.

“What are you? Stupid?” I said in between sniffles. “I’ve always needed you.”

Yuki drew back, tear streaks shimmering in the moonlight making his perfect face even more beautiful. “I didn’t mean anything I said then.”

I broke eye contact and stared at his shoulder instead of his perfect face. It was too late for that sort of talk and if I were to look into his face now, I’d be inclined to give him the forgiveness he wanted but didn’t yet deserve. Besides, I wasn’t ready to be forgiven yet either. This wasn’t going to be a quick fix, but let’s just say that my policy on these things is deep. Or rather, should I say shallow?

I turned into him, pressing myself upwards on my toes and meeting his lips with my own. I didn’t want to talk about that yet. I just wanted to be with Yuki. As I had always wanted. As I would always want. The shock of familiarity in his kiss overwhelmed me. He tasted of stale cigarette smoke, salted tears and...Yuki. It’s amazing how your body is so able to store these memories in taste. Every kiss we’d ever shared flooded my system and before I knew it, we were in the self-same struggle to remove clothing and make it to the bed, or the wall, or the floor, or wherever. It didn’t really matter, did it?

Yuki was so beautiful in his sleep. The way his face relaxed and you could see the sweetness that he worked so hard to cover up during the day; the rise and fall of his chest; the slow steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. How, oh, how had I made it through this last year? When you make it big, they start to say you’ve sold out. I think I paid with my soul. But, luckily, Yuki had kept it safe for me.

The other marvellous thing about a sleeping Yuki is that he is dead to the world. I picked up my cell phone and let my fingers dial from memory. The phone rang once and then another voice I had missed filled my ears.

“Shuichi?! Shu is that you?”

“Hi, Hiro.”

“Shu?”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

I looked at Yuki. “Yes.”

“Shu?”

“Yeah?”

“Where the FUCK have you been?”

I think Yuki had been hoping to talk. Then again, maybe not. I mean, it’s not as though we’d spent much of the last three days talking. He bounces back really well, too, although he’d been walking on eggshells with me. Carefully cutting his insults in half before they even exit his mouth. It must have been difficult for him.

I was carefully constructing my flight outfit – another set of oversized clothes, a baseball cap, huge sunglasses. Totally inconspicuous.

“You look like a fucking pop star in disguise,” Yuki said blandly from behind me.

“Well, that’s because I am one!” I said hotly.

Yuki raised his eyebrows. “Still an idiot, and here I thought you’d changed.”

“Shut up.”

I pulled off my sweatshirt and slid on my coat. I stared at my reflection, rethinking the glasses and hat, too. As I reached across the counter for the hair brush, the ring fell loose from the inside of my shirt, dangling on the chain brightly in the artificial light of the hotel bathroom. Yuki’s fingers caught the chain lightly and he fingered the ring thoughtfully. Turning to face him, I watched his face carefully. His hand closed around the ring and the chain and for a moment I thought he was going to tug the chain from my neck. Instead, he paused and let the ring fall free. His hands closed up around the back of my neck, which sent my pulse racing. I wasn’t sure what was happening until I saw that he’d taken the chain from my neck. The ring slid off the chain and into his hand as he let one side go. It shimmered against his palm and he considered it for a moment before catching my left hand in his.

“Shuichi.”

“Hmm?” I mumbled, unable to form coherent words as he ran his finger up the length of my ring finger.

“Will you wear it again?”

My eyes must have been bugging out of my head as I searched his face for any hint of irony. Everything was so tentative right now, so delicate. I swallowed and convinced my tongue to work again.

“I’ve always worn it, Yuki,” I admitted quietly.

His eyes were sad as he considered the ring again, poising it between his thumb and index finger. Oh, what the hell. There was no chance of me leaving him ever again, no matter what nonsense he managed to spout at me in the future. I snatched the ring from his hand and slid it on my finger in one solid movement. Then, before he had a chance to say anything else, I turned back to my hair. The smile he thought I hadn’t seen in the mirror was definitely worth it.

It was good to see that Japan never changes. I paused at the end of the walkway causing Yuki to slam, somewhat pleasantly, into my back. He grunted at me in irritation. The problem was that I could hear them already, shouting my name, screaming madly. Was there no security?

“What now, brat?” he hissed. The familiarity of his irate attitude made my heart swell in this really stupid way. I really was a moron.

“Well,” I started timidly. Then I remembered that I was my own man, damn it! I spun to face Yuki.

“Yuki, you stay behind for a couple of minutes. I’ll draw the crowd off and then we can recoup in the parking lot. Hiro said Seguchi-san would have a car waiting.”

Yuki blinked at me and I took that as confirmation, spinning around quickly to face my imminent doom. I was stopped very suddenly by a firm grip on my wrist.

“Fat chance, kid.” Yuki said smoothly, pushing my sunglasses back down over my eyes.

“Yuki, but...the press...”

“So?” he said, his hand sliding from my wrist to my hand, entwining his fingers with my own. “Are you stupid? Tohma will have a car waiting? Probably complete with an assassin.”

“Oh.” Right, there was that whole not contacting anyone for a month thing I had to deal with...

“Besides,” Yuki said with a sideways grin that mesmerized me, “We have my car.”

Yuki glanced down at me, “Shall we?”

My face stretched into a smile widely, against all my careful, superstar restraints, as he pulled me alongside him. The flashbulbs burned my eyes, the screams pierced my ears, but Yuki’s hand was in mine and, in spite of everything, that’s all I could ever ask for.

To be continued...

AN 2.0: Ooh, a second AN! Fanfic faux pas! Bet you thought I was going to tell you what the fight was about, didn't you? Gahahaha. Oh well. So, here's the plan. There's more to come in the form of a much more in depth sequel, but my question to you is this: should I do the sequel in third person, or would you like me to carry on this first person style? I'm a little torn about it. Thanks for reading!!