Fleeting Inspiration
by Anna Sartin

. . .

Chapter One: Four Gay Elves


It was a piece of pure and unadulterated drivel.

Eiri Yuki had been a fan of the man's work for almost ten years; he had bought every book he'd written and read nearly every essay he'd published in literary journals, admiring the man as a literary genius. Yet the book he now held in his hands, written by the aforementioned author, was one of the most appallingly shitty pieces of work he'd ever read. He stared at the cover wondering if by some freak accident some fool had printed the wrong name on the cover. No, opening the book revealed the same name printed in large Japanese characters. What the hell WAS this?

Mamoru Eto usually created detailed plots with characters that pulled readers into their lives and struggles and kept their undivided attention until they, regrettably, reached the last page. To say that his latest work was not up to par was a monumental understatement. It was only a fourth the size of his usual novels, consisting of lame attempts at humor and a plotless, pointless storyline about... elves. Yes, elves.

Eiri had no particular reason to dislike elves or the fantasy genre in general, in fact he'd taken great pleasure in reading fantasy novels by Tolkien and other great writers as a child. However, after reading Eto's "Four Gay Elves" he never wanted to hear the word "elf" again. What had POSSESSED the man? What would cause a renowned author who'd been writing longer than Eiri had been alive to publish something so...

"Yuki, I'm home!"

Eiri ignored his lover's greeting and continued to stare at the book. He'd read the whole thing in one sitting and now he wished he'd never read it at all. In fact, he was tempted to burn it.

His thoughts were disrupted as Shuichi pounced on him.

"Whatcha readin'?"

He closed the hardcover abomination and threw it over his shoulder.


. . .

Two days later Eiri was staring at his blank computer screen, and he could swear it was watching him. Mocking him. Probably laughing at him behind his back whenever he left the room to eat, sleep, or have sex with his hyper, overly-cute lover. For two days he'd been able to write nothing, and it was Mamoru Eto's fault. The putrid drivel Eiri's once-favorite author had unleashed on the unsuspecting world was still laying on the living room floor where he had thrown it. Shuichi was afraid to touch it after Eiri had declared it "The Abominable Killer of Inspiration in All Living Things". He'd been slightly drunk at the time, having downed every beer in the fridge in an attempt to forget the absolute train wreck of a book he'd just read, but Shuichi wasn't taking any chances; he had three songs to finish by the end of the month and he'd only started on the lyrics for the first one.

"Still no luck?" Shuichi asked, entering the room with a can of beer in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other.

Eiri forfeited his stare-off with the computer to glare at the singer. "No."

Shuichi handed Eiri the beer and held up the piece of paper. "Well, I finished my first song. Look!"

"That was fast," Eiri commented dryly, taking the paper from the younger man and scanning it briefly before handing it back to him. "Still crap."

Shuichi just smiled. "You never appreciate my creative genius, but I forgive you!" He kissed Eiri's cheek and grabbed his hand. "Let's get out of here, Yuki. The more you dwell on it the harder it will be to write. Your deadline is months away."

Eiri sighed and shut down his computer. Writer's block was not a problem he encountered frequently, but it was a bitch on wheels when he did. Still, he'd rather write nothing at all than put his name to any old piece of shit, like a certain novel littering his living room floor. "Get your coat, brat."

. . .

The park was free of the usual weirdos Shuichi and Eiri frequently saw on their evening walks. Instead, a whole different group of nut jobs seemed occupy the place in the afternoon. An old man was washing himself, nude, in the public fountain while people stood and gaped at him or passed by quickly pretending not to look. A younger man was standing on his hands while talking to a tree, and nearby two teenagers were having sex in the bushes. Eiri ignored them all, including his chattering lover who was babbling on about whether or not cheese would explode in space.

"See Hiro says that you can make an eraser explode if you put it in the freezer so I'm wondering if you take a bunch of cheese and..."

"At least he fits in with the other idiots here," Eiri thought wryly. He wondered why the police weren't here arresting the nutcase bathing in the fountain. They'd been Johnny-on-the-spot to nail him for littering and double parking last year. Apparently fining him $150 for throwing a cigarette butt on the ground was more important than arresting people for public indecently. Go figure. Maybe they were out arresting Mamoru Eto for writing that piece of trash he disguised as literature. God, it was still haunting him.

"Yuki, maybe we should go on vacation. You know, get away for a few days."

"You've got to work, brat, and so do I."

"Having staring matches with your laptop isn't working, Yuki, and I can work on my other two songs anywhere. It might be good for your inspiration..."

Yuki sat down on a bench. "Maybe..."

Shuichi plopped down next to him. "Really!"

"I'll think about it."

Shuichi latched onto his arm. "Oh Yuki it'll be SO much fun! We'll relax and go swimming and..."

Eiri blocked out his boyfriend's rambling and took a long drag on what was left of his cigarette. Why was he letting one piece of shit novel bother him so much? He couldn't help but wonder what had caused Mamoru Eto to write it. Drugs? Stress? Maybe he'd simply succumbed to old age and gone cracked in the head. Either way Eiri wanted to hit the man upside the head with his hardbound copy of "Four Gay Elves". His only regret was that the book was too damn thin to do any real damage. "Still, I might be on to something..."

He flicked his cigarette butt away, noting that the cops were no where on hand to fine him and/or give him a lecture for littering.

"Yuki, don't litter!" Shuichi scolded, getting up to retrieve the butt and putting it in the nearby trash receptacle.


The teenagers in the bushes were getting louder.

"Uh, Yuki?.." Shuichi whispered, as he sat back down. "They're getting kind of loud..."

"I noticed."

The singer squirmed in his seat. "It's making me kind of... you know..."

Eiri turned to face him. "You're kidding..."

Shuichi blushed, looking at his lap. Eiri followed his line of sight. He wasn't kidding.

The novelist grinned evilly. He would have so much fun tormenting Shuichi while he was in this state. He pulled the singer to him and kissed him slowly, agonizingly slowly, as one of his hands crept underneath his shirt. Shuichi wasted no time crawling into Eiri's lap, straddling him. Eiri felt his manhood spring to life as his lover began rubbing their clothed groins together. Shit, he really was eager. Their kisses became more demanding as Eiri slid his hands down Shuichi's chest, unbuttoning his pants and grabbing...


"Hey, you!"

Both men froze (as did the couple in the bushes) as a park ranger came running up to them.


Eiri bolted up, causing Shuichi to fall to the ground. Grabbing his mortified boyfriend's hand Eiri took off running, hoping the ranger wouldn't give chase. Fortunately for both them and the teenagers in the bushes he had just noticed the man bathing in the fountain, giving both couples the chance to make a quick getaway.

For the rest of the day Eiri had to listen to Shuichi bemoan the fact that he had run all the way home with his fly open.


End chapter one