Tsukiyo update (theme #10, tilt, tohma x shuichi)
Title: Tsukiyo
Author: liana_bluestar
Theme: tilt; 10/50
Rating: um, I don't know any more. PG13-ish
Warnings: mentions of character death and general angsty-ness
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation
Summary: Eiri's death has left many questions and Tohma wants answers. Unfortunately, Shuichi isn't cooperating with him.
"What's been going on, Shindou-san?"
Shuichi fought back the urge to sigh as he set his teacup down on the coffee table. He had taken to drinking the stuff lately, ever since he'd been released from the hospital. Of course, his doctor had forbade the vocalist from drinking coffee, soda, and alcohol. Shuichi's bones were still healing from Eiri's assault on his body, and the last thing the singer needed was another trip to the hospital because he wasn't properly taking care of himself.
Once his teacup was on the coffee table, his gaze landed on his very early morning visitor, Seguchi Tohma. His boss had visited him almost every day, barring the few days Shuichi had spent in Kyoto, and Tohma had always, always asked him the same questions every single time. How are you feeling today, Shindou-san? What happened with Eiri the night he died? Why did he attack you? . . . What's been going on . . . Shuichi felt like he could recite the questions in his sleep, Tohma asked them with such regularity.
And Shuichi had his answers that he gave every time as well. Most of them had been dictated by Eiri when the novelist had been in one of his in-between states of lucidity and borderline insanity. The writer had told Shuichi what words to say and how to say them. Eiri had even written them down and had the singer memorize them. Shuichi had done as Eiri had dictated to him. His now-deceased lover had always had a rather formidable appearance about him, mostly because of his eyes, and Eiri had often used the knowledge to his advantage. He could pierce nearly anyone with a simple glare, and send the most stout-hearted scurrying along. The danger had become all the more apparent when his sanity started to slip. Shuichi had been terrified and thrilled at the same time for reasons he couldn't identify during those moments. He still couldn't tell what the the reasons were. He just knew he'd do as Eiri had told him to do, and behave as Eiri had instructed, though his heart now ached in the process. It always did when he and Tohma talked about those last moments they'd had with Eiri.
This time was different, however. Something had changed, and Shuichi could tell. How, he didn't know. Perhaps it was in the way Tohma gazed at him. Emerald eyes watched Shuichi as he set his cup down, and they scrutinized his every move. The vocalist finally let out a soft sigh. Tohma wanted answers, and he wanted them in his own time, not Shuichi's or Eiri's. He wanted more than what Shuichi could provide. It wasn't time yet. Everything had to be done as Eiri dictated and when he specified. Shuichi had promised the novelist as much.
"What do you mean . . ." he began, but Tohma cut him off.
"Do not play games with me, Shindou-san," the blonde snapped, irritation flashing in his eyes. There was a slight vehemence in his boss's tone, and hearing it caused Shuichi to blink in surprise. He had hardly ever heard of Seguchi Tohma losing control over his emotions. The man only allowed people to see what he wanted them to see, and not what they wanted. Seguchi Tohma had always been a calm, collected man, and no one, not even his beloved Eiri, had ever been able to get a rise out of him. Sure, Tohma was still human and he was capable of losing himself to things such as lust and envy, but he hardly ever let anyone know he was truly displeased. It took years of getting to know the man and of observing him to tell when he was angry. This little display was somewhat . . . unprecedented.
That had been before Eiri's untimely death. Something had happened between Tohma and Eiri, something that could never be undone. Shuichi knew it. He could see it in the way Tohma carried himself and in the haunted expression Tohma wore when he thought no one was looking. The only thing Shuichi didn't know was what had happened between them. Only Eiri and Tohma knew, and the novelist was dead. He'd be telling no one what had transpired that fateful night.
Now he knew for a fact that something had changed, and he saw it now. He saw the desperation that had crept into Tohma's eyes, and Shuichi's heart filled with pity, and longing, for the older man. Eiri had always been very dear to Tohma, and there wasn't anything the former Grasper wouldn't have done for the author. Only now, Shuichi wondered just how far, how truly far, Tohma would go to prove that devotion.
Quickly, Tohma regained his composure, his expression becoming one of detached neutrality. He set his teacup down as well.
"Forgive me for my outburst, Shindou-san," he murmured, bowing slightly. "It was was not my intention to interrupt you or to sound so harsh. However," Tohma raised his head, "I believe you know something about the night that Eiri died. I believe you know why he attacked you as he had. Your silence on the matter bothers me. One would think you'd have told someone by now what had transpired."
Shuichi tilted his head for a few moments, gazing at the blond-haired man before him. There were many things he knew that Tohma did not know or that the other musician did not remember. Shuichi's silence in this situation was critical. Eiri had indicated as much, and he'd had his reasons. Shuichi believed his deceased lover when Eiri had talked about how to deal with Tohma after his death, and the fact the older man would not remember certain events. So far, the novelist had not been wrong.
This instance was no exception. Something had happened, something had been triggered, and it had caused the entire encounter with Tohma to feel different. Shuichi saw it in the way the older man moved, how Tohma took careful and deep breaths, and in the way he watched the vocalist. It seemed as if the next part of Eiri's predictions were coming true. If they were, things were about to change.
Carefully -- his ribs still ached from nearly any kind of exertion -- Shuichi rose to his feet, and he stepped around the coffee table. He continued to move until he stood a scant few inches away from Tohma then knelt in front of his boss. Shuichi tentatively reached over and touched pale, blond locks.
"There's more to it than just my silence, isn't there?" he inquired, his tone soft and full of understanding. "Something's happened . . . are you remembering things now?"
Green eyes widened in shock and confusion at his questions. Tohma's expression confirmed what Shuichi wanted . . . no . . . what he needed to know. A soft yet sad smile touched Shuichi's lips.
"So you have . . ."
"I do not know what you are referring to, Shindou-san . . ." Tohma started to say. It was Shuichi's turn to cut him off.
"I know." Shuichi touched a finger to Tohma's lips. "I know you don't. At least, not yet."
Author: liana_bluestar
Theme: tilt; 10/50
Rating: um, I don't know any more. PG13-ish
Warnings: mentions of character death and general angsty-ness
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation
Summary: Eiri's death has left many questions and Tohma wants answers. Unfortunately, Shuichi isn't cooperating with him.
"What's been going on, Shindou-san?"
Shuichi fought back the urge to sigh as he set his teacup down on the coffee table. He had taken to drinking the stuff lately, ever since he'd been released from the hospital. Of course, his doctor had forbade the vocalist from drinking coffee, soda, and alcohol. Shuichi's bones were still healing from Eiri's assault on his body, and the last thing the singer needed was another trip to the hospital because he wasn't properly taking care of himself.
Once his teacup was on the coffee table, his gaze landed on his very early morning visitor, Seguchi Tohma. His boss had visited him almost every day, barring the few days Shuichi had spent in Kyoto, and Tohma had always, always asked him the same questions every single time. How are you feeling today, Shindou-san? What happened with Eiri the night he died? Why did he attack you? . . . What's been going on . . . Shuichi felt like he could recite the questions in his sleep, Tohma asked them with such regularity.
And Shuichi had his answers that he gave every time as well. Most of them had been dictated by Eiri when the novelist had been in one of his in-between states of lucidity and borderline insanity. The writer had told Shuichi what words to say and how to say them. Eiri had even written them down and had the singer memorize them. Shuichi had done as Eiri had dictated to him. His now-deceased lover had always had a rather formidable appearance about him, mostly because of his eyes, and Eiri had often used the knowledge to his advantage. He could pierce nearly anyone with a simple glare, and send the most stout-hearted scurrying along. The danger had become all the more apparent when his sanity started to slip. Shuichi had been terrified and thrilled at the same time for reasons he couldn't identify during those moments. He still couldn't tell what the the reasons were. He just knew he'd do as Eiri had told him to do, and behave as Eiri had instructed, though his heart now ached in the process. It always did when he and Tohma talked about those last moments they'd had with Eiri.
This time was different, however. Something had changed, and Shuichi could tell. How, he didn't know. Perhaps it was in the way Tohma gazed at him. Emerald eyes watched Shuichi as he set his cup down, and they scrutinized his every move. The vocalist finally let out a soft sigh. Tohma wanted answers, and he wanted them in his own time, not Shuichi's or Eiri's. He wanted more than what Shuichi could provide. It wasn't time yet. Everything had to be done as Eiri dictated and when he specified. Shuichi had promised the novelist as much.
"What do you mean . . ." he began, but Tohma cut him off.
"Do not play games with me, Shindou-san," the blonde snapped, irritation flashing in his eyes. There was a slight vehemence in his boss's tone, and hearing it caused Shuichi to blink in surprise. He had hardly ever heard of Seguchi Tohma losing control over his emotions. The man only allowed people to see what he wanted them to see, and not what they wanted. Seguchi Tohma had always been a calm, collected man, and no one, not even his beloved Eiri, had ever been able to get a rise out of him. Sure, Tohma was still human and he was capable of losing himself to things such as lust and envy, but he hardly ever let anyone know he was truly displeased. It took years of getting to know the man and of observing him to tell when he was angry. This little display was somewhat . . . unprecedented.
That had been before Eiri's untimely death. Something had happened between Tohma and Eiri, something that could never be undone. Shuichi knew it. He could see it in the way Tohma carried himself and in the haunted expression Tohma wore when he thought no one was looking. The only thing Shuichi didn't know was what had happened between them. Only Eiri and Tohma knew, and the novelist was dead. He'd be telling no one what had transpired that fateful night.
Now he knew for a fact that something had changed, and he saw it now. He saw the desperation that had crept into Tohma's eyes, and Shuichi's heart filled with pity, and longing, for the older man. Eiri had always been very dear to Tohma, and there wasn't anything the former Grasper wouldn't have done for the author. Only now, Shuichi wondered just how far, how truly far, Tohma would go to prove that devotion.
Quickly, Tohma regained his composure, his expression becoming one of detached neutrality. He set his teacup down as well.
"Forgive me for my outburst, Shindou-san," he murmured, bowing slightly. "It was was not my intention to interrupt you or to sound so harsh. However," Tohma raised his head, "I believe you know something about the night that Eiri died. I believe you know why he attacked you as he had. Your silence on the matter bothers me. One would think you'd have told someone by now what had transpired."
Shuichi tilted his head for a few moments, gazing at the blond-haired man before him. There were many things he knew that Tohma did not know or that the other musician did not remember. Shuichi's silence in this situation was critical. Eiri had indicated as much, and he'd had his reasons. Shuichi believed his deceased lover when Eiri had talked about how to deal with Tohma after his death, and the fact the older man would not remember certain events. So far, the novelist had not been wrong.
This instance was no exception. Something had happened, something had been triggered, and it had caused the entire encounter with Tohma to feel different. Shuichi saw it in the way the older man moved, how Tohma took careful and deep breaths, and in the way he watched the vocalist. It seemed as if the next part of Eiri's predictions were coming true. If they were, things were about to change.
Carefully -- his ribs still ached from nearly any kind of exertion -- Shuichi rose to his feet, and he stepped around the coffee table. He continued to move until he stood a scant few inches away from Tohma then knelt in front of his boss. Shuichi tentatively reached over and touched pale, blond locks.
"There's more to it than just my silence, isn't there?" he inquired, his tone soft and full of understanding. "Something's happened . . . are you remembering things now?"
Green eyes widened in shock and confusion at his questions. Tohma's expression confirmed what Shuichi wanted . . . no . . . what he needed to know. A soft yet sad smile touched Shuichi's lips.
"So you have . . ."
"I do not know what you are referring to, Shindou-san . . ." Tohma started to say. It was Shuichi's turn to cut him off.
"I know." Shuichi touched a finger to Tohma's lips. "I know you don't. At least, not yet."