"A Writer's Craft." 

By Genkischuldich [farfarello@psychopath.co.uk]

Disclaimer: Gravitation is copyright to Maki Murakami-sensei. No money was 
made from this, and no harm intended. 
 
Written for: Fall


----------------------------------------------------------------------


Shuuichi clung to Yuki's leg, working his way upwards. His nose grazed 
the rough material of Yuki's trousers, and he smiled. Slowly, he rubbed 
against Yuki, until he was level with the leather couch. He jumped up, 
and curled against Yuki, purring softly. He would've rested his head in 
his lap, but a large hardcover book had already taken his place and 
Yuki's full attention. When the other man's hand reached out to turn 
the page, he pounced teeth-first, and kissed it with a quick flick of 
his tongue. A deft movement stole Yuki's hand from Shuuichi's grasp, 
then scratched him behind the ears and under the chin. 

"Yuki...," sighed Shuuichi. 

With that, Yuki's eyes grew wide, and the hand was snatched away just 
as quickly. 

Shuuichi whimpered. "Yuki.... Did you forget it was me?" 

For the first time since Shuuichi had entered the room, Yuki looked at 
him. He felt a spread of warmth inside as he saw Yuki's eyes light up, 
even though the man's expression didn't change. Shuuichi looked away as 
he remembered the newspaper he had in his hand and the reason he had 
dared to interrupt his lover. The moment was gone. 

"Yuki...," he began. Now was as good a time as any. "A music journalist 
wrote some stuff about us." 

"Stuff?" Yuki snarled, his mood suddenly changed. Shuuichi suspected it 
was as much to do with his word choice as what he'd said. 

"Things?" he tried again, offering up the newspaper. "He wrote some 
things about us." 

Silently, Yuki put down his book and accepted it. Shuuichi could hear 
only the rustling of pages as the other man flicked to the music section. 
His heart pounded in his throat and he felt sick inside. 

"I-I didn't pay much attention to it." When he saw Yuki's eyes flick 
rapidly over the page, trying to find the article, he added, "Third column 
along, half-way down." 

A pause. Shuuichi clasped his hands together, mentally begging Yuki not to 
get angry. He waited, biting his lip as Yuki's gaze bore into the page. He 
could almost see the cheap newsprint smoulder. With a hand movement as 
swift and as certain as before, Shuuichi was carried to door by the scruff 
of his neck. Instinctively, he held still, like a kitten when carried by 
his mother. 

He hit the cold pavement hard, and the door closed with a 'click' behind 
him. With his weight pushing against the door, he let out a loud mewl. His 
request was soon answered and his belongings appeared beside him a little 
while later. He kicked at the door, wailed Yuki's name. Finally, just 
before he thought his voice would give way, the newspaper joined him 
outside Yuki's apartment, hitting him on the head with a 'bop'. He cradled 
it in his arms like a child, holding it gingerly until he could bring 
himself to flick once more to the review. There he saw that Yuki had 
carefully underlined each sentence that referred to their relationship. 

"...high-profile affair with author Yuki Eiri catalysed his downward 
spiral into saccharine mediocrity..." 

"...for well-regarded writer Yuki, his partner's antics can only be seen 
as embarrassing..." 

Shuuichi was briefly heartened to see that his lover was using the pen 
he'd bought him for Christmas. He could tell, because he'd written in 
pink ink. Yuki hated that, although his eyes had smiled when he'd told 
Shuuichi. 

He smiled as the tears began to fall. This time it was different. They 
could destroy his career if they liked, and tell him he'd never record 
another album in Japan; he could always sing in the bath if it came down 
to it. But if Yuki lost his writing contracts, Shuuichi could never look 
him in the eye again. 

Ahead, in the distance, he stared at everything in his line of sight. 
Willing the tears to stop falling, he only wanted to go back inside and 
tell Yuki that he'd make sure it worked out. He wasn't sure yet what he 
was going to do, but he'd do whatever was needed. 

But this time it was different. Even Yuki must have realised that. This 
time it was the writer's career that could be over. 

Shuuichi's ears pricked up at the sound of a rapidly approaching 
motorbike. He took in the plain fact of its existence without judgement.
Until it stopped in front of him. 

Even then, he was lost in his thoughts until a hand was waved in front of 
his face. The effort it took to raise his head to see the man's face was 
incredible. His entire body felt so heavy. 

"Hiro," Shuuichi murmured, without moving. 

Hiro picked up Shuuichi's belongings and began to bind them to the back 
of the motorcycle, tilting his head and frowning as his bike wobbled 
precariously ."I heard you were in a bad way," he said. 

Automatically, Shuuichi's head jerked back to look at Yuki's apartment. 

"Ah, no. It was Sakano that phoned me." 

Shuuichi sighed. "Did he freak out?" 

"You bet." 

"Wait... How did he know?" 

"Touma phoned him." Hiroshi silently got on the motorbike, and motioned 
for Shuuichi to get up and do the same. After a short pause, he admitted, 
"Yuki told him." 

"No one wants deal with me, I--" Shuuichi's last words were lost in the 
rev of the engine. He buried his head, as much as was feasibly possible, 
into the back of Hiro's leather jacket and held on tightly. 
 
***

"Shindou Shuuichi, lead singer of Bad Luck, hasn't had much luck lately. 
Best remembered for writing energetic rock anthems at the beginning of his 
career, he's now reduced to writing sappy ballads. His fans have looked on 
in sheer bemusement as his high-profile affair with author Yuki Eiri 
catalysed his downward spiral into saccharine mediocrity. For Shindou-kun, 
it means less of his signature rock anthems, and more badly-written sap." 

Shuuichi would have reread further into the article, but the ink had 
already merged into an unreadable blur from his tears. Hiro yanked it out 
of his hand and crumpled it up and tossed it towards the bin in the 
corner of the room. 

It was only them in Hiro's kitchen, which Shuuichi hadn't really expected. 
He thought a record company representative or two would be knocking on the 
door any second, but so far things had been quiet. 

Perhaps he'd even expected Yuki to invite himself here. He didn't know. 
What he did know was that he wasn't a part of Bad Luck anymore. He'd find 
a way to lead Hiro into a discussion about the band's future, and gently 
let him down from there. 

He hadn't even realised Hiro was now standing beside him until he felt a 
hand resting lightly on his shoulder. 

"Can I get you anything? Hot cocoa?" 

Shuuichi was on his feet in seconds. "I quit!" 

Hiro looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I thought so. Sleep on it Shuu, and 
tell me what you think in the morning." 

Trembling, Shuuichi looked up at him, "I'm serious!" 

"I know." Hiro ruffled his hair slowly. 

Shuuichi felt tears welling up again. He walked over to one of his 
backpacks, and rummaged around until he found what he'd been searching 
for. He dragged the dark green binder out, and slammed it hard on the 
table. 

"While you're at it, throw this away too." 

Hiro flicked through the first few pages, confusion clouding his features 
occasionally. Every now and then, a smile would flicker across his lips 
despite himself. 

"All of these lyrics?" Hiro wearily raised an eyebrow at this. 

"They're worthless." Shuuichi's head dropped to the table. "Like all my 
ideas." 

"These aren't bad." 

"Tear them up. Burn them," Shuuichi sighed melodramatically from his slump 
on the table. "I'm never even going to try and write another song." 

With that, Hiro scooped Shuuichi up and out of his chair. Shuuichi flailed 
helplessly, but it was no use. Hiro continued at a frantic pace towards 
his bedroom, as the hellish creature in his arms struggled and clawed 
in vain against him. 

They got to the door, but Shuuichi tugged his arm free and held on tightly 
to the doorframe. Hiro pulled and pushed him in all directions until he 
reluctantly let go of the boy. 

Shuuichi collapsed against the wooden frame, then curled up into a ball. 
He was pouting, and he knew it. "What were you trying to do?" 

Hiro blinked. "I was trying to get you into bed. To take your mind off 
things..." 

Shuuichi was on his feet instantly. He blurted out earnestly, "Hiro!? I 
like you as a friend, but I won't... I mean, I'm just not interested!" 

Hiro suppressed a smirk, then Shuuichi could see he was gritting his 
teeth, trying not to laugh. 

"What's so funny?" he demanded. 

"You should go sleep and everything will seem better in the morning," Hiro 
concluded, helping him to his feet. "That's all I was going to say." 

"Is it really okay to sleep here?" Without really waiting for an answer, 
Shuuichi threw himself at the bed, and landed spreadeagle across it. 

Hiro nodded. "Go ahead. Sure you don't want some cocoa before you sleep?" 

Shuuichi managed a half-hearted smile and shook his head, his pink hair 
falling limply in front of his eyes. As Hiro said goodnight and turned out 
the lights, Shuuichi was certain his friend would hear his breathless gasps 
in the darkness. It didn't matter. 
 
***

Shuuichi's eyes focused and refocused on the guitar that leaned against 
the wall just under the windowsill. He rolled out of bed, and heard the 
crunch of guitar picks under his feet. Where was he again? And Yuki...? 

The memories came crashing back to me. His knees buckled, and he fell back 
onto the bed. He drew his knees up to his chest, and sat there, staring at 
the wall. 

He didn't know how long he'd stayed in that position, but the sound of 
the doorbell followed by Hiro's voice shook him out of it. He pretended 
not to hear, but he could hear the rumble of Hiro's voice in the 
background, so he eventually picked himself and padded over to see who it 
was. 

Peeking round the door, he could see Sakano sitting at the kitchen table. 
Shuuichi was relieved by how calm he looked, and let out the breath he 
didn't realise he'd been holding. 

"Morning, Saka--" he began, as he headed out of Hiro's room. 

Only then did he realise that Sakano wasn't even moving, apart from a 
slight twitching in his upper lip. He was completely immobile. 

"What happened?" asked Shuuichi quietly. 

Hiro shook his head. "It don't know, but it's bad. He's too stressed to 
even spaz about it." 

"Oh." 

Sakano opened his mouth. A pause, then he closed it again. He twitched 
more. 

"Is... Is it about Yuki?" ventured Shuuichi. 

Sakano shook his head. "K." 

"Ah," said Hiro. 

Shuuichi wondered if this would be a bad time to tell him he had quit 
Bad Luck. 

"He's kidnapped that writer and taken him to the recording studio," 
Sakano panted, suddenly revitalised. 

"You said it wasn't about Yuki!" exclaimed Shuuichi, biting his lip. 

"The other writer," supplied Hiro. "The one that wrote that article." 

"Other writer...?" Shuuichi mused, but not for long. He bounced towards 
the front door. 

"Ah, Shuuichi?" Hiro called after him. 

"Hm?" Shuuichi turned around. 

"Those are the clothes you slept in." 
 
***

Two blonds were the first thing they saw at the recording studio. The 
writer they'd been told had been kidnapped was nowhere in sight. As 
Shuuichi ran up to Yuki, he saw that the reason he couldn't see him was 
because the two men towered over him. Shuuichi had expected the short, 
weaselly man to look a lot more threatening. 

K noticed their arrival first, and backed away from the man. He spun the
 gun around his forefinger with an unnatural gleam in his eyes. 

Yuki turned around to see why K had moved. It caused the man they 
previously had pinned against the padded studio wall to try to 
struggle past them. 

Yuki punched him in the face. The man toppled and hit the floor. 

"Melodramatic, whiny, hyperbolic...You have no respect for the true 
writer's craft." Yuki reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette. 
Shuuichi's eyes grew wide and happily drank in his lover's dramatic 
profile standing over the man who'd wronged them. The impression Yuki 
made on him wasn't lost when his lighter failed to work and he threw 
it across the room, cursing in disgust. He was wonderful. So he 
reached out grabbed Yuki's arm, hanging onto it as if he'd never 
let go. 

"It's your own fault!" the man spat out. "I wrote you so many letters, 
and it was all for nothing...!" 

"He didn't reply to your fan letters?" Hiro asked, bemused. 

"I have lots of fans," Yuki dismissed him, acknowledging the one 
currently hanging off his arm. "And I don't have to reply to anyone." 

"I'll destroy you," the man hissed. 

"That's unlikely," observed Yuki. 

"Yuki Eiri is a famous novelist," Hiro smiled. "What's your name again?" 

"A name you'll soon see everywhere--" the man began. K shot him. 

Yuki walked away, dragging Shuuichi along behind him. 

K and Hiro followed behind them, lifting the writer to relative safety, 
each supporting his weight as he struggled to stand. 

"You knew why he wrote those things, didn't you?" Shuuichi asked, 
clutching Yuki's arm. "But there was no need to feel guilty over it." 

Yuki stopped to look at him, then leant over and kissed him. Their lips 
met, and Yuki all-too-briefly ran his tongue over Shuuichi's lips. 
Shuuichi felt his warm arms around him as they walked out of the studio 
together. 


Owari