Bring it down to the words of inertia

Gravity and touch give you meaning

Feel the weight of the moment

As you're brought together by the sun



Upon entering Tokyo, there were three truths that should be known. The first was to watch out for flying stuffed toys: if you didn't catch them, their owner became mad and made you feel guilty for hurting "poor Kumagoro," never mind the bruise on your own forehead.

Two was to watch out for bad sushi-- that was just good advice, especially since two equally manic singers had decided to eat sushi from a truck stop. Both had been sick, both had bugged their respective bands with this illness, and both had thrown fits upon discovering they were too ill to sing.

The third was a simple thing, one that Shindou Shuichi wished he had known before getting involved. It was impossible to understand Yuki Eiri.

Shuichi had been with Yuki for two years now-- two rollercoaster years in which they had broken up no less than nine times, had wild make-up sex uncountable times, and Bad Luck had released one CD. Shuichi had also said that he loved Yuki every day for those two years, sometimes twice a day, so that had been seven hundred and thirty times at least that Yuki hadn't said it back.

Shuichi couldn't deny that he wanted Yuki to love him. He couldn't deny that sometimes he wanted to borrow Kumagoro to hit the stubborn man over the head with. He couldn't deny that he had never felt so bad as when he was with Yuki. And yet... Yuki brought out both the best and the worst in him. Yuki could depress him like no one else, but Yuki was really the only one that he could strive for in that way.

Hiroshi flicked Shuichi on the head, hard. The singer yelped, falling back from his chair complete with windmilling arms. "Pay attention, Shuichi," he said, not unkindly. "Sakano's supposed to be telling us something important."

"But he's late," Shuichi argued. "Doesn't that give me leeway or something?"

His guitarist just rolled his eyes.

"Ugh," Suguru snorted, leaning against the wall. The youngest member of Bad Luck was looking decidedly disgruntled today, almost babyish features settled into a firm frown. "If Sakano has big news, it really seems like you should be paying as much attention as possible, Shindou," he reprimanded. "If you care about this music half as much as you say you do, then you should--"

Shuichi was no longer listening, caught up in daydreams of strawberry pocky. That soon lead to daydreams of strawberries, which lead to daydreams of feeding strawberries to Yuki, which led to Hiroshi flicking him against the forehead once more.

Suguru sighed. His reputation was going to be ruined. It was going to go down the drain and all that would be left would be strawberry-colored trails of sludge reminiscent to Shuichi's hair color. Maybe it was time to get out while everything was still looking good, before Shuichi managed to screw up one more time on television and destroy Bad Luck altogether.

The door opened, finally, and Sakano stepped through. A tall, thin Japanese man, he seemed to constantly be nervously working with his hands, whether pouring tea or wringing a handkerchief. He was quite good-looking, but his utter devotion to N-G's Seguchi Tohma left him with little time for devotions of the heart. It was probable that he would have been too flighty anyway. The woman who could have put up with his fainting spells would have had to be incredibly tough or a man.

Sakano had chosen to express his anxiety by restless pacing this time. He said nothing for the longest moment, striding back and forth across the room until Shuichi became dizzied from it, small birds floating above his head. Dazedly, he decided to name one Doris and the other Herbie.

"Spit it out already," Suguru ordered. "What would Tohma think to see you like this? It certainly isn't helping your band any for you to just pace around like that."

Sakano stopped in his tracks to turn an adoring smile to Suguru. "So much like Seguchi-san," he stated lovingly, clasping his hands like a Southern belle from one of those American westerns. Perhaps he and K had been watching them together, Shuichi pondered.

The producer sighed. "Seguchi-san wants Bad Luck to launch its Japanese tour," he stated. "He says that we aren't doing anyone any good by just doing those comedy shows." He teared up. "And I thought I was doing so well. Maybe I should let someone else be your producer. I can't do anything right. I..."

Hiroshi patted the quivering man on the back somewhat awkwardly. "Don't worry, Sakano. We think you're great."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "My cousin is right, of course, but you are a good producer, Sakano. I blame K for not doing better, not you."

The prickling on the back of his neck told Shuichi that someone was looming from behind him. He ducked instinctively as a volley of bullets shot over his head to pound the wall next to Suguru. Calmly, the keyboardist drank a sip of tea. 'Nerves of steel, that kid,' Shuichi thought admiringly.

"Who are you saying isn't a good manager!" K boomed. The tall American was trying to prop his sunglasses on his head by use of the end of the machine gun. Shuichi continued to stay low, hiding behind the couch. He certainly didn't care that he looked like a pink-haired mouse; he liked being alive more than he liked his image of coolness!

'I guess that touring Japan means leaving Yuki...' Shuichi thought longingly while bullets and sharp remarks raced over his head. Sakano and Hiro were hiding under an overturned table now, using it as a shield. 'I wish he would come with me...'

Yuki wouldn't, though, and Shuichi would miss him. Yuki wouldn't miss Shuichi, that much was a given. Sometimes, though... he wished that the writer would at least pretend to care.


"Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!" Shuichi shouted, door banging open as he sped through on his way to Yuki's study. He was a small, blurry cyclone of pink hair and clothing that looked like it had come from the hippie era, tie-dyed and strange.

Yuki barely flinched anymore when Shuichi saw fit to speed into his room and bounce behind his chair like a hyper bunny. The blonde novelist looked over his shoulder, a bored expression on his face, to see Shuichi's violet-eyed face peering at him with barely-contained excitement. That was one thing about Shuichi. Shuichi wasn't particularly beautiful, eyes too big and face a bit too rounded, but no matter what he did he looked like the most gorgeous person Yuki had ever seen. It was incredible.

"Yuki, Bad Luck is going on its tour!" Shuichi yelled, still bouncing.

"I'm right here, you idiot," Yuki complained. "You don't have to yell. Did you really have to burst in here just to tell me that you're going on tour?"

Shuichi wilted, looking away. "Sorry," he murmured softly. "We're leaving in a couple of days. Tohma didn't want Sakano to get to worked-up so he told us at the last minute. We're gonna be gone for a few months." Five, to be exact. Maybe six if the usual delays happened.

Yuki was back to staring at his computer screen. "So what? Call me out when you want dinner."

The singer paused for a moment, hovering over Yuki's chair. He wanted a hello kiss, he wanted an offer to come with him. He wanted something.

He wasn't going to get that something from Yuki. He should know that by now. He couldn't help the want for it, though. He probably would want it for however long Yuki chose to put up with him. He couldn't cry, though, couldn't even take the time to show how he felt. Yuki hated it when he cried. Yuki wanted him to be happy. So he had to be.

"All right," he chirped. "I have to call Maiko anyway!"

As he went out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him, he didn't notice that Yuki hadn't typed anything ever since Shuichi had said he would be leaving. Fingers resting on the keys, Yuki stared at the screen.

How many months were a few months? How long would Shuichi be gone?

Yuki saved the document and closed it, still staring at the screen with dead brown eyes that were so light a color they appeared golden. Shuichi was going to leave? What was Yuki supposed to do in the meantime? What was supposed to happen while he waited for Shuichi to come back?

How was he supposed to live if Shuichi got hurt while he was gone?

Yuki stood and walked away from the computer. He could bribe Maiko off the phone by telling her he'd autograph one of his books for her. Right now, he needed to touch Shuichi, to affirm that he was still here and wasn't going to be leaving for a while yet. Right now, he needed Shuichi more than she did.

He smirked. He could almost taste the strawberry on his tongue.


Inertia is defined as the resistance of an object to movement.

Inertia is the first chapter of a two or three part fic called Gravitate. It probably won't be more than that, but it depends on how the plot goes. It's going to be as canon as I can make it, which makes it kind of fun. The song Inertia that I put a clip of at the beginning belongs to me. Please review, because the plot bunnies bounce once I get those lovely little messages you send me.

On another note, I will be changing my pen name/screen name/whatever, so the next chapter will be under Wings of a Wolf.