Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Narcissism ❯ 03 ( Chapter 3 )

Goodness Me! It's Chapter Three already? Yeah, this story's coming along really slowly, but I blame it all on the cold medicine and TV. Again, Maki Murakami owns all that we cherish, and again, I still haven't gotten to the narcissism bit of it, but all in due time. To answer some questions, yes this is a chapter fic, and no, Yuki and Shuichi's relationship won't crumble because Shuichi is, by all rights, a sped, and Yuki's just a cold prick who really badly needs a mommy, but they belong together because they just do and that's that. Thank you again to my reviewers, and thank you for your kind words, despite the crazies out there who have vendettas against Gravitation angst. Now butter my butt and call me a biscuit, (I've been dying to say that since they noted it as popular slang in the local newspaper) on with the show.

 

Chapter 3

 

I woke up the next morning, or, well, the next afternoon to be more accurate, with a throbbing headache and a pain in my back. The cause of which became obvious, when I discovered that during the night my body had managed to bend at a ninety-degree angle over the edge of the couch, half of my body weight resting on where my head touched the floor. I was also pleasantly surprised when I discovered that during the night, I had managed to drool in such a manner that it ran in a river from my mouth, down my face, through my hair, and into a cold pile on the floor that I was currently resting in. I attempted to drag myself up and get upright on the couch, but instead I overbalanced and fell backward into the slick puddle of my own saliva, thus marking the beginning of yet another amusing day.

To add insult to injury, at the sound of falling off of his couch, Eiri decided to roll back his office chair and take a break from the clackity-clack of his typing, and he walked smugly into the room with a fresh beer in his hand.

“Drinking already?” I asked from my place on the floor.

He narrowed his eyes and looked- if possible- even more smug than usual. “It's after noon. I decided not to get buzzed until just now, out of courtesy for my esteemed guest.” He looked down at me from over his glasses, before he pushed them up his nose and took a swig from his beer. “I've got a thirty-three percent chance of guessing right. Is it vomit, urine, or just drool? I wouldn't put any of them past you, Sakuma-san, but I'd prefer if you cleaned it up before it stains my nice hardwood flooring.”

I rolled my eyes at him, before giving him a smile. “Well, out of courtesy for my warm and welcoming host, I won't tell you.” I stood up, my clothes making that sticky wet sound that bare skin makes when you peel it off of leather furniture. “Mind if I use your shower?”

He turned his back and walked slowly back into his office, and he replied just before he closed the door. “Be my guest, provided that you don't masturbate loud enough for me to hear you chanting his name.” And with that, he was gone.

Dick. See if I clean your floor now.

Grabbing some of the fluffy pink bath towels (I wouldn't touch the dark blue ones if you paid me to) I made my way into their spacious bathroom and turned on the water. I soaped up and sang some of the lines from Bad Luck's newest album, before I poured shampoo into my hair. It took a while for the scent to reach my nose, but when it did I was overwhelmed by peonies. I sighed, scrubbing it out of my hair and searching for anything to drown out that damnable smell, but it seemed like the only other things they had were all fruity and sweet and so very Shuichi, unless of course you counted Yuki's fragrance-less shampoo that wouldn't hide the smell anyway. At least his shampoo matches his personality.

Once out of the bathroom, I reluctantly folded up my blankets and ran a cursory swipe of a damp cloth over the water stain on the floor, before snatching up Kumagoro and deciding that I fully intended to mooch a free meal off of Eiri. After searching the cupboards and taking everything out onto the counters, I recalled briefly that I can't cook without burning things, so I settled in for a big bowl of cereal with chocolate milk and a peanut butter sandwich on potato bread; all-natural peanut butter and raspberry jam. I finished off by using some Pocky I found lying around as supports, so I built myself a sandwich castle while I waited for the cereal to get to that medium consistency; not too crunchy, not too soft, and time enough for the marshmallows to get all squishy with a crunchy center. Life's a lot like a bowl of cereal. It's all about the timing.

I successfully managed to mess up his kitchen to my standards, when I decided that I'd already wasted enough of the day. With a grin, I marched back to Eiri's office and threw open the door, poking my head in. “Kumagoro and I thank you for letting us stay!”

“Like I had a choice,” he replies dryly, absently sucking on the end of a pink gel pen. He then sniffs the air and throws a glance in my direction. “Masochist.”

I sigh, my parade successfully rained upon. “The only stuff I could find,” I said weakly in my defense, before adding, “It takes one to know one, anyway.” I then snapped the door of his office shut and wandered out into the hallway, unsure of what I was going to do that day. Whatever it was, I was going to have fun because I was wearing Eiri's clothes, underwear and everything. There's nothing like borrowing without asking and then forgetting to return things.

I made it back to my apartment without incident, which is nice, but unusual for me. I threw my jacket at a random piece of sculpture and managed to knock it over, but unfortunately it didn't break, so I just checked the messages on my answering machine. One was from Noriko, asking me what the hell I did to Tohma because he certainly wasn't going to tell her, and I deleted that one right away, suddenly glad that I had been warned that Nori-chan was on the rampage; and probably on his side, knowing her. The second message was an unexpected one, and I had to play it twice because I wasn't paying attention to the words the first time I listened to it.

“Hey, Ryuichi, this is Shuichi! I was wondering if you'd um… Actually, I wanted to surprise you, so could you just come to this address tonight. I promise all will be explained later. Er, not to sound cryptic or anything. It's not bad, I swear! Please, just come. If you can, I mean. I mean, well, if you're busy, please call me, but if not, just go there. Oh! And come at seven. Ummm… Oh! The address! Eh heh, how silly that I forgot, it's…”

I had to sit down. Shuichi. Meeting me for dinner. In a really nice restaurant, all alone. No Eiri in sight. In fact, I doubted that he even knew about the whole thing. This was big. Huge. One of those things that you can't keep to yourself. I was halfway through calling Tohma when I realized that I wasn't speaking to him, so I hung up the phone, feeling antsy and pent up. Glancing up at the clock, I realized that I only had five hours to get ready, so I sprinted like a maniac to the shower in an attempt to wash Shuichi's smell off of me, to avoid suspicion. Hopefully, this won't be the only time tonight I have to wash his smell off of me.

One of the things I like about my apartment is the bathroom. Actually, bathrooms are probably my favorite part of anyone's dwelling. I mean, you can tell loads about a person by the way they keep their bathroom. Towel placement, what kind of toothbrush they have, where they store their personal items, what brand of condom they use, medicines, and neatness. Forget whether or not your zodiac signs match up; you can totally compare compatibility with just a glance at their bathroom. My bathroom's nice, but overly neat because the cleaning lady comes on Fridays, so much like everything else, it shows very little of my personality. Except my toothbrush. It's one of those electric dealies, but I'm okay with that since it's shaped like a racecar.

After my shower, I spend hours, literally hours, sitting on my bed and fixing my hair. Once I'm finished with that, I actually get dressed, realizing too late that I have to wear something button up because my hair's too perfect to screw up now. I manage to find something suitably sultry, but not too suggestive because if I'm disappointed, as per usual, I don't want to be completely obvious about it. By six-thirty I'm completely ready, and Kumagoro's even sporting his sexy James Bond outfit, so we head out the door and catch a taxi. I even pay him extra for getting us to the restaurant exactly on time.

I can automatically tell that Shuichi's picked this place. It's all neon and color and my head's already spinning from how blessedly casual everything seems. People are talking loudly, waiters and waitresses are happily handing out food in baskets and the dinnerware doesn't match, plus they're blaring music that I've actually heard of over the speakers. I bounced up to the woman at the tiny podium-type-thing, where she was reading through a list of names, before I flashed her a smile and said, “Is there somebody waiting for Sakuma Ryuichi?” She practically melted, before leading me through the maze of tables, all doe-eyed and weak-kneed. She pointed me to the corner booth, and I stopped short, thinking that there must be some sort of mistake.

Uesugi Tatsuha was sitting on the far side of the booth, drumming his fingers on the tabletop and staring out the window.

What the hell?

What is with people lately, lying to me about who I'm going to eat with? Jeeze!

Unable to just ditch him, waiting there like some prepubescent girl on her first date, I resigned myself to my fate, knowing full well that if I was a no-show, word would get back to Shuichi and he'd get all teary and upset. I threw on a smile and slid into the seat across from him, preparing myself for the worst.

He looked pretty anxious, and more than a little surprised that I actually showed up. “S-Sakuma-san,” he replied, completely star-struck. I suddenly had a feeling that we were going to be stuck talking about how much he loo~ves my work for the rest of the night.

“Tatsuha!” I cried, desperate to talk about anything else. “Kuma-chan and I haven't seen you in forever! We're both very surprised! You should be proud, because not just anybody can surprise us!” And live to tell about it.

I watched him swallow, and then a busty waitress came over to take our drink order. “Can I have something blue and alcoholic?” I asked sweetly, batting my eyes at her.

She looked confused. “We don't serve alcohol here, sorry sir.” My heart sank. I'm so totally getting completely smashed after this is over with. I looked Tatsuha's way, and discovered that he'd buried his head in his hands. “I could get you something blue and fizzy though,” the waitress finished with a wink, and so I ordered and waited for Tatsuha to reappear from behind his hand screen.

He mumbled something along the lines of “Coke, please,” and the waitress skipped off merrily, boobs bouncing buoyantly along the way.

I looked back at Tatsuha, but he was still partially hidden, so I started swinging my legs absently, looking around the place. “They have a big fish tank all around the ceiling, you know,” I said, for the lack of anything better.

He looked up. “Umm, listen, Sakuma-san…”

I scrunched the wrapper on my straw up into a little bundle and let drips of water drop onto it, watching fascinated as it uncoiled like a little worm. “Yeah, Tatsuha-chan?” I replied in an adorable sing-song voice. If there's anything I love about Tatsuha, it's his name. I could call him so many things, like Tat-chan, or Suha, or Haha, or Tat-ha, or… Su-hat, I suppose. Before he can speak up, the waitress wandered our way again, jugs undulating in the kind of way wax moves in a lava lamp, ready and willing to take our order. Before I could open my mouth, Tatsuha beat me to it.

“Um, can I get some chicken fingers and french fries, with extra ketchup, and-” he paused, looking embarrassed, and I quietly simmered.

What is the DEAL with this family, always assuming that I'm so simple as to always want the exact same thing, everywhere I go? You know, one of these days I'm just going to give Eiri, Mika, Tatsuha, and Tohma a piece of my mind about ordering for me! I'm not some little kid! I like to eat other foods!

“Oh, sorry Sakuma-san, should I have let you order first?” he asked shyly.

I blinked. That was his order? That's… actually kind of cute. I bit my lower lip and gave him a smile. “No, it's okay Tat-chan, Kumagoro and I will have the same.” After giving him a wink, I beamed up at the waitress as she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

At which point Tatsuha went all quiet again. You know, there must be something way off about the way the Uesugi family raises kids, if this is how sociable they turn out. I was about to start rambling on about nothing in particular, when he finally spoke.

“Aah, Sakuma-san…” he began, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I'm really sorry about this, I mean, well…”

I blinked very slowly at him, which only served to unnerve him even more.

“I-it's… well, I know Shuichi put you up to this, and trust me, I had no intention of cooperating in this blind date bullshit, um, not that it's a date if you don't want it to be, but-” he realized that he's just cursed in front of his idol, but he continued on undeterred. “This is really lame, and probably excruciatingly boring for you, so feel free to leave if you want to. At first I was almost positive that this was a prank, but…” he shrugged, looking much more at ease. “Frankly, I don't give a shit whether you stay or go, if this is just one of Shuichi's weird little ideas that he assumes will work out perfectly. I just wanted to apologize in advance for the inevitable awkwardness, so don't feel like you have to stay out of pity or anything.” I could tell he'd been waiting to get that off his chest for a while, but all at once his demeanor changed; his face relaxed along with his posture, and he casually thanked the waitress for our drinks when she came around again, calmly waiting for my response.

Oh yeah. My response. I have to admit, I was kind of looking for any way to jump off of this sinking ship of a dinner, but the fact that Tatsuha was so… forward, and honest, and so mature about the whole thing kind of left me intrigued. What happened to the too-tall sixteen-year-old that used to wet himself at the chance to just watch a simple recording of one of my performances? I guess it had been four, no, almost five years since I'd honestly had an actual conversation with him, so I suppose there'd been room for him to mature, but still. Knowing that he wasn't still some jailbait little kid left me feeling more than a little… old. Heh. Jailbait. At least he's over eighteen now. He's technically a grown man. Free to do what or whom~ever he wishes.

I blinked. No. Tatsuha is a nice boy, but he is still Eiri Yuki's brother, and technically Tohma's as well. I am not having these thoughts.

But look at him. He's still so cute, and he adores you. You could ask him to jump, and he'd ask “how high.” Or you could ask him to so far less scrupulous things, and he'd comply with the zeal of a… let's see, carry the two… one, two, three, four… aah! With the zeal of a twenty-year old.

No. Nonono. I refuse to follow this line of thinking. I'm more than fifteen years older than he is! And he looks up to me as a role model! When he was a baby, you were losing your virginity and flunking P.E. for the second consecutive time. You'd be a cradle robber! A child molester! Some kinda weirdo middle-aged pedophile that needs a younger significant other to regain some of your lost youth.

Yeah, but how appealing is that?

Shut up.

Somehow, while I was busy having a mini moral breakdown confined entirely within my own mind, our food had managed to arrive. Our buxom waitress presented us with two large plates of guaranteed heart disease, and placed one giant glass bottle of ketchup on our table before she was whisked off to serve other patrons. Which was a pity, because I absolutely detest glass ketchup bottles; the ketchup never comes out and first you shake it in frustration, and then you stick your knife in there to get some of it out, but that gets your knife all gross and you end up having to mess up your napkin, which I hate doing because I always forget and put the napkin in my lap later, only to cover myself in ketchup. And besides, what's the point of messing up your stupid napkin before you even take a bite out of your meal?! So once you've managed to completely screw up your place setting, you tip the ketchup upside down, and it still won't come out, so you smack it and then ketchup goes everywhere anyway.

I watched as Tatsuha made a face, before he muttered “Stupid glass bottles,” under his breath, and snatched it up and only to thwack it on the table in frustration.

I couldn't help but grin. “I know, right? You know, if you stick your butter knife in there then it'll come out faster.”

He didn't bother looking up at me. “No point. It gets all over everything anyway.”

I blinked, suddenly delighted that I was tricked into this… whatever it was. “Yeah, but how else are you going to get it to come out?”

He grunted, tapping it lightly on the edge of the table, before he held it at an angle over his plate and watched as little by little, ketchup trickled out over his food. I frowned and rested my head on my fist. “Isn't that a little slow?” I drawled, eyes half-closed at watching him do something so excruciatingly tedious.

“Yeah,” he replied, smacking the butt of the bottle once more, at which point ketchup flowed freely over his plate. “But if I do it first, then it'll be easier for you, right?”

I blushed a little. That was actually really considerate of him. I guess I was going to be surprised by more than one thing tonight. I snatched the bottle from his hands with a grin before tipping it over my own food. “You just wanted to eat before I get to,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him, which finally won me a smile and a small chuckle in return.

“Guess I'm just that much of a bastard to want to hog all of the ketchup, huh?” he replied, popping a french fry into his mouth.

I picked up one of my ketchup saturated chicken fingers and took a bite. “Is our entire conversation going to revolve around ketchup, because I've got a whole tirade about relish that you might be interested in.”

He considered it, cocking his head to one side. “Nah. Don't like relish.”

I smiled, sucking ketchup off of my fingers. “Neither do I.”

Conversation came pretty easy after that, and all too soon the waitress was back, prepared to take our dessert order. I found myself completely focused on everything Tatsuha was saying, which was odd, because I rarely give anyone my full attention. As long as I can keep track of the simplest details of a conversation, because I'm so often assaulted with praise and adoration, I generally just drift off into my own little world and tune out what they're trying to say. I like watching things more than I like talking, because so much of conversation these days is people trying to kiss up to me, and there are so many amazing things and feelings and tastes and experiences that are so much more meaningful than useless talk. In this case I guess I was making an exception.

I loved the way he talks, actually, because I never really noticed it before. He was sarcastic and well grounded, but he still had a sense of humor. I like the way he laughs too; there are just some people who laugh and make you want to pop your eardrums with a dessert fork, but his is low and melodic and just… nice. Plus he's got these big brown eyes that convey whatever he's feeling. I wonder who he inherited them from, because none of the Uesugis I've seen have that amount of warmth in their eyes. Though now that I think about it, very few people do.

“Melted chocolate. Or something poetic like that.” I stated blankly, Tatsuha giving me a look that clearly said he had no idea what I'm talking about.

“Was I rambling, or were you just not paying attention?” He asked, gaze suddenly focused on his empty glass. He used his straw to play around with the ice in the bottom, and it made that clear, high-pitched, singing sound. I smiled at him because his hands were beautiful.

“Your eyes. Chocolatey.” I said, before adding “Oh! I think I want the tiramisu for dessert.” Kumagoro wholeheartedly agreed.

Tatsuha rested his chin on his palm. “I don't think anyone's ever complimented my eyes before. In fact,” he said with a wry grin, “I think I recall Eiri likening them to dog excrement and bad coffee, hopeless romantic and soulful poet that he is. But then, he did hit the lottery when it comes to looks. His eyes are much more interesting than mine.”

“Different. Not necessarily more interesting.” I replied, looking for the waitress.

She came around again in due time; I got the tiramisu and Tatsuha ordered some coffee, but I made him eat half of my tiramisu anyway. The waitress returned with the check, and we decided to split the bill, though I could have easily paid for the whole thing myself. Tatsuha stood up and put a small wad of bills down on the table for our tip. Following his example, I put down the same amount.

“Eh, Sakuma-san, I've got the tip. You don't need to-“

“I know.” I said with a shrug. “But she has a nice pair.”

Tatsuha laughed, and I lead him out of the restaurant and out onto the sidewalk.

“So…” he said awkwardly. “I had a really nice time tonight, Sakuma-san. I guess I'll-”

I frowned. “It's only nine o'clock. What are you, twelve?”

Might as well be, considering the age difference. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you.

Pervert.

He smirked at me and put his hands behind his head. “Close, but not quite. I just figured you might want to bail on me while the opportunity presents itself. Since you never answered my question earlier, I just figured you've either got nothing better to do, or you're humoring me, though I can't decide which is worse. Besides, my place is a long walk from here, it might be a good idea to get a head sta-”

I grabbed his hand. “Let's go ice-skating, Tat-chan.”

He blinked. “There's no ice.” He replied thickly.

I grinned. “Not here. I know a place.”

After an hour of brisk walking, and one side trip to a small, all-night hardware store, I found myself standing in front of a large, fenced-in facility with a rather large “CLOSED FOR REPAIRS” sign in front of it. Tatsuha was panting and holding a stitch in his side.

“I didn't realize it would be so difficult,” he said between breaths “keeping up with you.”

“Why?” I asked, hands on my hips. “Figured you'd run circles around an old man like me?” I rifled through the bag of tools we picked up from “Handyman Hal's All-Nite Hardware,” and took out a small blue crowbar, shoving the bag into Tatsuha's hands.

“Uh-um… Sakuma-san? What are you doing?” he inquired, as I advanced on the padlock that was keeping the chain link fence closed.

“I am attempting to break and enter.” I threw over my shoulder. “Now shh! Stand there and be a good accessory.”

He made a face that reminded me of my old pet goldfish, only less dead. “Sakuma-san! Do you honestly think- We could be arrested! What-”

I glared at him. “Sakuma-san this, Sakuma-san that! I'm not going to answer you until you use my real name.”

“Didn't want to be overly familiar…” he replied softly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

I jammed the end of the crowbar into the lock and pried like it was going out of style. The lock bent first, and then flew off with a satisfying snap, landing somewhere off to my right. “Guess they figured that nobody'd be dumb enough to break into an ice rink, huh?” I said, slinging the crowbar over my shoulder proudly.

“Only you, Ryuichi, only you.” He replied, eyes gleaming with mischief.

I stuck my tongue out at him and pushed back the fence, making my way over those weird stadium counter things and inside the building. It was cold, obviously, and there was some scaffolding up where they were remodeling some of the seating areas, but the ice was there and gleaming from the electric lights outside. Tatsuha, though still shooting furtive glances over his shoulder, was the first one to find the skate rental booth. With a little luck, okay, with a whole hell of a lot of prying and cursing and frustrated bashing, we managed to get the skate booth open. Tatsuha picked a shiny green pair of skates and I chose some pink and black ones in an effort to match Kumagoro. I managed to jump the skate counter and precariously made my way down to the rink, thinking perhaps that walking around on two metal blades was not my best idea of the evening. Tatsuha followed my lead, and he was on the ice before I was.

“Tatsuha,” I began, curious, “do you even know how to skate?” I watched him as he gracefully did a full circuit of the rink, and then landed near me with a little jump.

“Yeah,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Used to do it when I was younger.”

“Oh good.” I replied, putting one skate out onto the ice. “Because I don't.”

With that statement, I walked gingerly out onto the ice, but I overbalanced and fell on my ass. As it happens, ice is slipperier than I had previously thought. Tatsuha stood a few feet to my right, just staring at me, before he broke into a fit of laughter that echoed around the rink. I pouted up at him, but he didn't notice for laughing so hard, so instead I slid myself over to him and kicked his legs out from underneath him.

“Hey!” he yelled. “That's not funny! I could've been seriously hurt!”

We couldn't stop laughing after that, but eventually he helped me to my feet and lead me slowly around the rink. After about an hour of practice, I could skate a little bit on my own without falling over too often, but I liked it better when I had Tatsuha there holding me up.

“You just like doing that, don't you?” I asked, annoyed.

“What?” he asked in return.

“Skating circles around me.” I said, pouting.

He paused for a moment, before he purposely began moving in slow circles around me. “Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah I do.”

I pushed him over, but he grabbed my leg and pulled me down on top of him until our faces were mere centimeters away.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I replied, watching his eyes with rapt fascination.

And then we heard the sirens.