A/N: Sorry for the long wait. :D I experienced a nasty writer's block a while back, but now my imagination is flowing again! Here's the latest chapter for you.
won't you call me anything more endearing, Eiri-san? Like brother
"Why can't you ever visit Kyoto without me having to ask you a hundred times? Why do you have to be so difficult!"
"Look, you can just give me the car keys or then you won't, but either way, I'm going to take Ryuichi to dinner with your Mercedes! Why can't you ever do something nice for your little brother?"
"Eiri, why can't you ever tell me you love me if you do?"
why can't you -"
"Eiri, why are you -"
"Eiri, why, why, why?"
Stop asking me! I don't know! I have no idea! Leave me alone! Let me be! Stop asking these things! It's not my fault! Go away!
"Sometimes it seems like you don't have any emotions at all!"
No… I -
"You're just an empty shell, how could you ever love anyone?"
N- no, that's not true…
"You're as cold as ice, but you never melt! Even your heart is made out of thick, impenetrable ice!"
Why - why are you saying this..! It's not true! I can feel!
"No you can't! No you can't! You'll be alone! Just like now."
NO! I w- won't! You can't… Shuichi… where -
Where are you?
Why aren't you here? Why am I alone?
"They're all lies."
Wha - what?
"You know that they're all lies, Eiri. And I know that too."
Shu - ?
"You know you're not alone. What would I be then? I would be alone too."
I - I'm -
The battered novelist woke up abruptly. His breathing was heavy and he could feel cold sweat on his forehead. And once again, he had a killer headache. The dark room he was held in was as dark and deserted as ever.
Eiri closed his eyes and managed to settle down a bit. His dream had really got to him. He had had the same kind of dreams before, but never had they been so vivid. Eiri could recognize all the voices – Touma's, Mika's, Tatsuha's... and finally Shuichi's..
Usually, the dreams ended because he forced himself to wake up. No one ever bothered to tell him to wake up, but this time had been different. His lover's comforting voice had brought him back.
I wish he's ok.
After a few steady but rasping breaths, Eiri concentrated on his rather troubling situation. His whole body ached. The pain near his lower regions was the most disturbing, and he believed he had an idea where it had come from and he didn't like that idea one bit. He knew some of his ribs were broken due to the large and purple bruise right below his chest and the fact that every inhale hurt like hell. He couldn't see nearly anything with his left eye and he could feel a deep cut in his lower lip. The taste of blood was making Eiri nauseous.
The blond man also noticed, to his positive amazement, that he was able to move as much as he could in his current state. Could Riko have forgotten to give him a new dose of the poison? It was very possible, since it seemed that this Kazuya and Watsuki were the brains behind this – this thing, whatever it should be called, Eiri thought.
I guess this is kidnap… Though I don't believe I'm the key-person in their project or what the hell this is leading to. Neither is Shuichi, I hope.
When had Eiri last seen his lover? Days ago? Weeks ago? Eiri often tried to lie to himself about missing Shuichi, but right now, he couldn't really give a damn. He wanted to see him, see him safe and unharmed. Eiri prayed Touma had realised that he hadn't disappeared on his own, but that he indeed had been abducted. Touma if anyone would be smart enough to take Shuichi to safety. Since Eiri and the pink-haired singer (ok, so maybe it was only me, Eiri had to admit gingerly) had made the manner of their relationship public, nearly everyone in Japan and maybe even abroad knew how close they actually were. It wouldn't take a genius to guess that Shuichi meant a hell lot to Eiri, and by harming him, Eiri would be begging on his knees (well, not literally, Eiri made a mental note hastily) and ready to do anything to get Shuichi back.
But still, Eiri figured that the situation was drastically reversed. He was the one who had been taken. So what would this stupid gang want from Shuichi? Money, maybe? No, no that can't be it, Eiri decided. This Kazuya seemed to be above something like that; he wouldn't take a need for money this far. Riko, on the other hand, only seemed to have a physical interest in Eiri. Could it be possible Riko was only in this operation for his muscles? Eiri shook his head, and regretted it a split-second later as his headache got worse.
The whole thing felt so incredibly confusing to the novelist he wanted to scream his lungs out. He hated speculating. He hadn't thought this much since the day he received Mika's and Touma's invitation. Only at that time he had been thinking up of lame excuses to tell Shuichi so he wouldn't have to attend the idiotic party, the source of all this. Damn Mika and Touma!
If only the light bulb above Eiri's head had been visible, anyone who would've seen him would've known he had just realized something important.
Shuichi had been aching to get to the police station to report about Eiri's disappearance, but now that he actually was at the police station, he just wanted to get away from there as soon as possible. He probably would've done just that, if Hiro hadn't accompanied him.
In Shuichi's opinion, the police station was terrifying. The policemen all looked stoic and as if they would be ready to beat the shit out of the first law-breaker they happened to meet. Almost immediately after Shuichi and Hiro had arrived, three policemen with pistols and nightsticks on their waists had crashed through the main doors carrying a young man with a bruised face into a holding cell. Shuichi could swear he had seen a big red stain on one of the nightsticks and a matching bruise on the criminal's face. The pop star couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy towards the young man even though he had no idea what he had done. He might have even killed someone in cold blood.
Eiri always accused him of being too naïve and too oblivious to the darker side of the world. "Violence exists, you refuse to see it or not. That won't ever change," the blond had told him. Shuichi hadn't wanted to believe his words - because even though he was near his twenties, Shuichi couldn't face, nor decipher, some things in the world. Violence was one of them. Eiri had said that spending overtime with Ryuichi had affected him, but Shuichi thought it was because of his undying optimism. Even Eiri had admitted it.
"You always have to find something positive even about the biggest jackasses."
Shuichi recalled those words perfectly, because that was just one of the many periphrases Eiri used when talking about himself. Shuichi knew that Eiri had wanted to thank him for finding something positive about him too, the biggest jackass Shuichi had ever met. The fond memories made Shuichi smile.
A nudge on his shoulder pulled him away from his memories. Hiro was looking at his questioningly, as though he had just asked something. Shuichi looked around the hectic police station, and once again remembered what actually had happened to Eiri.
Oh God, I'm thinking of him like he's dead! He isn't... he isn't...
Shuichi sustained a sob and kept his tears away. This wasn't the place to start sniffling all over.
"Shuichi, I asked you a question," Hiro said and waved a hand in front of his friend's blank face. "You there?"
Shuichi gently slapped Hiro's hand down and showed his tongue at him. "Yeah, of course I am... so, um, what did you say?"
The guitarist sighed. "I asked you what our reception number was. They're going in 205 now." Hiro cocked his head towards the small screen above the receptionist's showing the number. A bright red "205" was flashing on it.
Shuichi looked at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands with a bold number 208 on it. "208," he said and squeezed the paper into a small ball again. He had unconsciously made it his stress toy.
"Great," Hiro yawned. It was only about 7.30 a.m., and though it was a Monday, it was too early for him. "All this waiting is making me tired." He stretched his arms behind his head and accidentally punched a gruff man straight in his face.
"Oi! 'The hell yeh think yer doin'!" he shouted, rubbing his chin with a pissed expression. He was holding a battered navy blue bag with a blemished hand. His grey jacket might have been white once and his hat was full of holes.
Hiro jumped up from his seat and bowing slightly, he muttered an embarrassed apology. But the old man didn't let it go.
"Yeh watch it who yer punching, hippie," he growled and gave a dirty look at Hiro's long reddish hair. "And I'd cut me hair if I were yeh."
Hiro looked at the man with a surprised face. "Excuse me," he said, narrowing his eyes to slits. Shuichi stood up also, getting ready to grab his friend if thing's were to get out of control. He knew how much Hiro loved his hair and how much he hated being called a hippie.
The man laughed mockingly. "Yeh look a bit familiar... Yeh a stinkin' celebrity or somethin'?" he turned to look at Shuichi. "No wonder yeh people think yeh can do anythin', like punching innocent people in their faces."
Shuichi was getting tired of the man; Hiro had apologized, it wasn't like he had meant to hit him. "Mister, it was an acci -" Shuichi began, but was cut off by the old man.
"Now I know why yeh look so familiar!" he said with a disgusted expression. "Yeh're from tha' queer pop band." He pointed rudely at Shuichi. "And yeh're with tha' blond four-eyes, tha' no-good writer!"
Hiro and Shuichi both stepped closer to the insulting man. "I don't give a shit about how much you bad-mouth me and my band, but don't insult Eiri!" Shuichi growled loudly. Hiro put a hand on his friend's shoulder to keep him under control. Shuichi could feel the anger boiling inside of him.
How dare he say something like that about my Eiri! I hate him! I hate him!
"Ooh, did I strike a nerve?" the man snickered. "Suits yer gay ass well enough!" Shuichi face fell. He felt like he had been slapped.
"Hey, you quit that right now," Hiro said with a low and dangerous voice as he saw the angry expression on Shuichi's face turn into a hurt one. He was just about to grab the man from his dirty collar when a voice from receptionist's booth called.
"Number 208, number 208!"
"That's us," Shuichi said weakly. Hiro glared at the man once more before dragging Shuichi towards the waiting receptionist's. The man smiled evilly at them, exposing a row of yellow teeth.
The friends sat in front of the booth on two uncomfortable chairs. "Yes?" the woman with huge glasses and a bored face said.
Shuichi swallowed. "I - I'm Shindou Shuichi and I'm here to report on a missing person."
A/N: I had no idea how the police station systems work in Japan (well, I don't know how they work in Finland either), so I just made up my own. Hopefully no one will mind :P
Also, I felt like this
chapter was rather boring and slow, but I guess it was necessary for
the plot. Next chapter will have more action, I promise.