Gravitation (General), Prompt #15
“I’m not letting you leave.”
Eiri set his suitcase down and rolled his eyes. He’d figured something was up since the apartment had been blessedly quiet while he’d packed. “Move away from the door, brat.”
Shuichi didn’t budge, back pressed defiantly against the front door. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Well, that sucks for you, doesn’t it?” Eiri took a cigarette out of the box in his pocket and brought it to his lips. “C’mon, kid,” he muttered around it as he clicked his lighter open.
“No!” He cried out, tears (that Eiri refused to believe were really sincere) welling up in his blazing determined eyes. “You can’t go! I-I’ll kill myself if you do!”
“Record sales would skyrocket, no doubt.” He inhaled deeply and pocketed his lighter, sighed. “Put the knife down.”
“I’ll do it, I swear!” The singer promised, pressing the edge of the utensil against his wrist.
“That’s a butter knife, moron.”
“I bet if I try hard enough, I’ll…give myself a scratch.”
“A scratch is hardly going to stop me.”
“Yuki.” Shuichi tossed the knife aside, shoulders drooping miserably. “Why do you have to go?”
“Shuichi,” Eiri started in his You’re Behaving like a Child Voice. “You know how you have tours-where you go from city to city, making a fool of yourself onstage for a crowd of people even more foolish than you while you wear disgustingly slutty outfits? Well, I have tours, too-where I go from city to city, signing books for silly schoolgirls and lonely housewives. But I don’t have to look like a man-skank while I do it.”
Shuichi pursed his quivering lips tight for a moment, as if he was debating whether to act insulted or not. Apparently he decided not to, quickly shifting back into Petulant Mode. “I don’t believe you!”
Eiri scowled. “What do you mean you don’t believe me? I never dress like a man-skank.”
“Not that!” Shuichi threw himself from the door and into Eiri’s arms (which opened only on instinct, not because he actually wanted to hold the boy). He hid his face in Eiri’s chest, gripped at his shirt with trembling hands. “You’re just trying to get away from me,” he insisted, voice breaking. “You’re going to leave and then you’re not going to come back.”
Oh, hell. Not this. If it had just been about Shuichi missing him, that would’ve been one thing; but he couldn’t just ignore this.
He sighed and held Shuichi loosely. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course I’m coming back. All my shit is here.”
“Yuki,” Shuichi sniffled, attempting to bury his face deeper into Eiri’s shirt. “Please don’t leave me.”
Eiri frowned down at the boy’s pink hair. He wanted to handle this gently, really, he did. But he had a plane to catch, dammit. “I’m not leaving you. I’m going on a tour. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I am coming back. You’re being ridiculous.” All right, so maybe he just couldn’t do gentle…
“I just-” His desperate grasp lessened just slightly. “I worry that you’ll try to disappear again. Somewhere I can’t find you.”
“Somehow,” Eiri said, despite the annoying lump he felt in his throat, “I doubt you wouldn’t be able to find me. It’s like you can track my scent or something.”
A snort of laughter escaped the singer and his grip lessened even more. “Yuki… You’re really coming back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I have to go, brat.”
Shuichi lifted his head and glared, hands shooting up to grip at the lapels of Eiri’s shirt. “Promise me!”
Eiri returned the glare with one of his own. “I promise!” He slapped the boy’s hands away. “Geez, you’re annoying!”
Shuichi smiled, kissed him, quickly, and then picked up Eiri’s suitcase. “I’ll take this down to the cab for you, Yuki!”
Eiri’s brow furrowed as he watched the suddenly cheerful singer skip out of the apartment. It wasn’t until he finished slipping on his shoes that it dawned on him.
“I swear to god, brat, if you run off with my suitcase-!”
The manic laughter he heard in response wasn’t terribly encouraging.
Eiri set his suitcase down and rolled his eyes. He’d figured something was up since the apartment had been blessedly quiet while he’d packed. “Move away from the door, brat.”
Shuichi didn’t budge, back pressed defiantly against the front door. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Well, that sucks for you, doesn’t it?” Eiri took a cigarette out of the box in his pocket and brought it to his lips. “C’mon, kid,” he muttered around it as he clicked his lighter open.
“No!” He cried out, tears (that Eiri refused to believe were really sincere) welling up in his blazing determined eyes. “You can’t go! I-I’ll kill myself if you do!”
“Record sales would skyrocket, no doubt.” He inhaled deeply and pocketed his lighter, sighed. “Put the knife down.”
“I’ll do it, I swear!” The singer promised, pressing the edge of the utensil against his wrist.
“That’s a butter knife, moron.”
“I bet if I try hard enough, I’ll…give myself a scratch.”
“A scratch is hardly going to stop me.”
“Yuki.” Shuichi tossed the knife aside, shoulders drooping miserably. “Why do you have to go?”
“Shuichi,” Eiri started in his You’re Behaving like a Child Voice. “You know how you have tours-where you go from city to city, making a fool of yourself onstage for a crowd of people even more foolish than you while you wear disgustingly slutty outfits? Well, I have tours, too-where I go from city to city, signing books for silly schoolgirls and lonely housewives. But I don’t have to look like a man-skank while I do it.”
Shuichi pursed his quivering lips tight for a moment, as if he was debating whether to act insulted or not. Apparently he decided not to, quickly shifting back into Petulant Mode. “I don’t believe you!”
Eiri scowled. “What do you mean you don’t believe me? I never dress like a man-skank.”
“Not that!” Shuichi threw himself from the door and into Eiri’s arms (which opened only on instinct, not because he actually wanted to hold the boy). He hid his face in Eiri’s chest, gripped at his shirt with trembling hands. “You’re just trying to get away from me,” he insisted, voice breaking. “You’re going to leave and then you’re not going to come back.”
Oh, hell. Not this. If it had just been about Shuichi missing him, that would’ve been one thing; but he couldn’t just ignore this.
He sighed and held Shuichi loosely. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course I’m coming back. All my shit is here.”
“Yuki,” Shuichi sniffled, attempting to bury his face deeper into Eiri’s shirt. “Please don’t leave me.”
Eiri frowned down at the boy’s pink hair. He wanted to handle this gently, really, he did. But he had a plane to catch, dammit. “I’m not leaving you. I’m going on a tour. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I am coming back. You’re being ridiculous.” All right, so maybe he just couldn’t do gentle…
“I just-” His desperate grasp lessened just slightly. “I worry that you’ll try to disappear again. Somewhere I can’t find you.”
“Somehow,” Eiri said, despite the annoying lump he felt in his throat, “I doubt you wouldn’t be able to find me. It’s like you can track my scent or something.”
A snort of laughter escaped the singer and his grip lessened even more. “Yuki… You’re really coming back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I have to go, brat.”
Shuichi lifted his head and glared, hands shooting up to grip at the lapels of Eiri’s shirt. “Promise me!”
Eiri returned the glare with one of his own. “I promise!” He slapped the boy’s hands away. “Geez, you’re annoying!”
Shuichi smiled, kissed him, quickly, and then picked up Eiri’s suitcase. “I’ll take this down to the cab for you, Yuki!”
Eiri’s brow furrowed as he watched the suddenly cheerful singer skip out of the apartment. It wasn’t until he finished slipping on his shoes that it dawned on him.
“I swear to god, brat, if you run off with my suitcase-!”
The manic laughter he heard in response wasn’t terribly encouraging.