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Fallen: The Story	By : Chocho Category: Gravitation > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Fallen: The Story
- 1
Fallen: The Story

One-shot

Written by: chochowilliams

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Summary: How are you supposed to live when the reason for living is gone?

Warning: ANGST. DEATH. Romance. Supernatural. Thoughts of suicide.

Pairing: Shuichi/Eiri

Inserts: “Anti-Nostalgic (English Translation)”

A/N: This is based on my poem “Fallen”. On a side note, go listen to “Mighty Wings” by Cheap Trick (it’s a song from the 80s) and tell me it doesn’t remind you of “Rage Beat” even just a little.

{oOo}

I’m afraid of something

And it makes me like myself a little less

The feelings I want to convey

The days I left behind

I’ve forgotten them somewhere

My heart aches just a little bit

That which connects time

On a starry night, I’m searching for you

-“Anti-Nostalgic (English Translations)”, Bad Luck

{oOo}

It was a Thursday in June, the forth-official day of summer. Early morning rain had left the air cool and comfortable.

A light breeze stole into the bedroom, rustling the transparent black curtains. In through the open windows, also, came the sound of children laughing, screaming and their thundering footsteps racing to and fro. Birds were chirping and dogs were barking. There was the rumble of motorcycles and the booming bass from the stereos of passing cars.

It was an ideally perfect summer day that Shuichi woke up to after a restless night of tossing and turning. He’d sleep very little. What sleep he had been able to procure had been filled with disturbing dreams and images that rapidly faded in the dawn of a new day. Though he could not remember what he’d dreamt, the emotions lingered like a bad smell. They permeated every pore and fiber of his being, clinging about him like a second skin or like that spot that cannot be washed out no matter how hard you scrub.

Pulling the cerulean blue satin sheet up around his shoulders, Shuichi turned onto his side, effectively turning his back on the windows, and curled into a ball in the middle of the queen-sized bed, hunching his shoulders to block the sunlight streaming into the bedroom.

Damn Eiri and his dislike of blinds.

Usually, Shuichi would greet the sun with a song on his lips. This particular morning, though, he wanted nothing more than to shoot the sun.

One hand released its death grip on the sheet to wipe the crusted sleep from his eyes only to pull back when the palm of said hand brushed against wet cheeks. It was only then that he realized he had been crying.

Sitting up with a sniff, the sheet pooling down around his waist, Shuichi stared blankly down at his lap, wanting nothing more than to just fall back to sleep and never wake.

Shuichi shook his head and that depressing thought aside. Where had THAT come from, he wondered with a chuckle and small smile.

As quickly as it came, the smile vanished. It didn’t simply falter and fall. It disappeared as if it had never been there. He stared across the bedroom at the empty wall space between the two windows across from the bed, his face as well as his mind empty of all thought and emotion.

The distant trill of the phone had Shuichi blinking as if rousing from a deep slumber.

A glance at his bedside table over his shoulder had Shuichi frowning. “Where’s my phone?” he wondered aloud.

Tossing aside the sheet, he slipped from the bed and padded across the room to the door. He flung it open and stepped out into the hall. Cocking his head, Shuichi listened as the ringing continued. It sounded as if it was coming from the living room.

Why would his phone be in the living room?

Pushing the question aside to deal with later, Shuichi rushed down the hall and through the door at the end and stepped into the living room. He winced in pain at the bright mid-morning sunlight. Shielding his eyes, he squinted against the unfiltered light pouring into the room through the balcony doors as he searched for his cellphone. He found it instantly on the floor half hidden beneath the coffee table. What was it doing there? Shrugging, Shuichi rounded the table and picked up his phone. He collapsed onto the marble top of the table as he answered mid-ring.

“Hello?” he asked around a sudden yawn.

“Hey, Shu,” greeted a hesitant voice in his ear.

The sound of his best friend’s voice sent elation through Shuichi. He grinned. “Hiro! Hey!”

“…So,” Hiro drawled again with hesitation. He cleared his throat. “…How you doing?”

“Fine. What’s up?” Shuichi asked, drawing his legs up and crossing them.

The question had barely left Shuichi’s lips before Hiro answered with, “Nothing.”

The rapid response had Shuichi blinking. Oh. Kay.

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Shuichi chuckled lightly with a shake of his head. “I’m fine considering-”

“Ah.”

“-I couldn’t sleep last night,” Shuichi finished with a frown. Shaking off the queer feeling that had his stomach roiling, Shuichi neutralized his expression. “Look,” he continued, “I gotta go. I need to get some coffee in me before I yawn myself to death. I’ll call ya later?” Without waiting for an answer, Shuichi ended the call.

That was weird, he thought as he set his phone down on the coffee table.

Shaking his head at Hiro‘s odd behavior, Shuichi headed for the master bathroom where, after relieving himself, he took a long, hot shower. Discovering he was out of shampoo, condition and even body wash-

“Wow. I really need to go shopping,” he muttered to himself.

-Shuichi decided it wouldn’t hurt to use some of Eiri’s. The writer would never know…Unless Eiri kept strict records of the precise amounts he used, which would not surprise Shuichi in the least. The man was a perfectionist of the worst kind after all.

Shuichi snorted. “OCD much?”

It wasn’t until the water raining down upon him started to turn cold that Shuichi decided that he’d probably been in there long enough. He was surprised Eiri hadn’t come hammering the bathroom door down. Eiri hated it when Shuichi used all the hot water. Never mind that more often than not Eiri was the cause of all the hot water going down the drain--literally.

“Pervert,” Shuichi snorted.

Stepping out of the shower stall and onto the towel he’d laid out on the floor before he’d jumped into the shower, Shuichi used another towel to pat himself dry before securing it around his waist. Striding across the tiled floor to the vanity, thankful the bathroom floor was heated, Shuichi set about fixing his hair. Then he shaved before exiting the bathroom, shivering at the temperature difference, and wandering into the closet in search of clothes to wear.

A short time later, he was standing before the standing full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

“Monochromatic much?” Shuichi observed with a giggle. He took in the tight black short-sleeved dress shirt, the fitted black jeans and his long black hair that he‘d pulled up into a ponytail. Despite the lack of color, Shuichi was satisfied with what he saw--minus the dark circles under his eyes. “At least they match,” he joked with a snort.

Approving the outfit, he exited the bedroom and padded barefoot to the kitchen where he set about brewing a full pot of coffee.

While he waited for coffee to brew, he grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge and a spoon out of the drainer on the counter and pulled himself up onto the kitchen island, lightly swinging his legs as he ate his breakfast.

By the time he’d polished off the yogurt, enough coffee was brewed to pour both Eiri and himself a cup.

Shuichi inhaled the delicious aroma that filled the kitchen as he jumped down from the island.

He tossed his spoon into the sink. The subsequent loud clatter sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the house. Wincing, Shuichi glanced quickly over his shoulder at the closed kitchen door, anticipating Eiri’s usual “quiet or die” appearance. When all remained silent and still, Shuichi breathed a sigh of relief and dumped his empty yogurt container into the garbage can under the sink.

Grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet, he stole the carafe from the coffeepot. The sizzle--sizzle of coffee hitting the hot plate filled his ears. After filling both mugs with the dark liquid, Shuichi replaced the carafe. Into his own mug of coffee, he dumped a hefty amount of sugar and milk.

“Do you even have coffee in your coffee?” he inquired imitating Eiri’s voice. Shuichi giggled.

He left Eiri’s black.

The first sip was heaven--pure, unadulterated bliss. It chased away the last of the stubbornly clinging emotions that were leftover from the unsettling dreams that chased him throughout the night. He also found a smile upon his lips.

Smacking his lips, Shuichi grabbed the second mug and hummed happily, his spirits finally lifted, as he trotted out of the kitchen and back down the hall towards the small bedroom Eiri had commandeered for his office when they moved in.

As always, when he came upon Eiri’s office, the door was shut--not that that was much of a determent.

Shuichi paused before the door with a frown at a sudden thought. Eiri hadn’t been in bed when Shuichi awoke that morning and now that he thought about it, Shuichi couldn’t even remember Eiri coming to bed last night.

“Must’ve been another all-nighter,” he sighed. Not like it would be the first time. Eiri was hard on himself when on a deadline--not that it was done purposefully. If he didn’t have these all-nighters then he’d never make the deadlines. It wasn’t as if Eiri deliberately waited until the last minute to work on his next project--though Eiri was known to do exactly that on an occasion or two. No, the problem was the damnedable deadlines. Some were reasonable and others--not so much. It was the “not so much” ones that always left Eiri scrambling.

Shuichi made to grab the door handle only to remember that he only had two hands and currently, both were occupied with holding mugs filled with hot coffee. Biting his lip, he glanced from the steaming cups to the door and back, contemplating how best to juggle the mugs without spilling any of the scolding liquid within them while opening the door. Several options were considered and then quickly discarded.

“Eiri,” he called through the door. He pounded his foot into the bottom of the door. “Eiri,” he called louder. He pounded his foot into the door again. “Hey! Are you sleeping or something? I brought coffee.” Frowning, Shuichi pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. Maybe Eiri had fallen asleep. It happened all the time. Eiri would pull an all-nighter, several in a row sometimes, and would subsequently drop dead right there at his desk. Shuichi clucked his tongue and shook his head. Eiri may have quit smoking, but that certainly did not mean he’d become a health nut or had learned to take care of himself either.

What was he going to do with that man? Shuichi wondered with an amused shake of his head.

Setting the coffee on the floor, Shuichi used his newly free hands to open the door. He pushed it open and stooped over to grab the coffee. “Ya know what’d be cool, Eiri? If-”

Shuichi’s movements died. In his half-stooped position, he blinked blankly into the empty office. No Eiri. No wonder his calls had gone unanswered.

Straightening, Shuichi cautiously stepped into the office. His violet eyes swept about the tiny room. The wooden blinds were drawn, casting the room into pseudo-night. The computer on the glass topped dining table turned desk was off and silent. It wasn’t even in standby mode. The black leather swivel chair was empty as was the sofa on the far wall beneath the window.

“Eiri?” Shuichi called out.

There was an ache in his chest, a tightening in his throat and a stinging in his eyes at the sight of the thick layer of dust that coated everything within the room.

“Eiri?” he croaked.

Sitting open on the desk besides an ashtray full of spent butts and ash and a blue mug was a script of some sort.

A sob escaped him and echoed loudly in the deserted office before he could stop it.

Trembling, Shuichi took another step forward. His bare feet hit the Oriental rug Eiri’s father had given to them as a wedding present.

It was then it all came rushing back. As he’d never been hit with a ton of bricks before, he couldn’t say that was how it hit him, though it did come back that fast and that hard.

A single tear traversed unhindered down his cheek.

“Eiri,” he chocked out a sob.

It happened three year ago.

Japan had become one of the first countries to pass a marriage equality bill, giving same-sex couples the right to marry and granting them equal rights and protection under the eyes of the law.

When the news was announced, Shuichi had joked, “Maybe now would be a good time to dig out that ring you have stashed in the back of the closet huh?”

The last thing Shuichi had expected was for Eiri to say, “Maybe I should,” with a serious expression on his face.

Before Shuichi could even comprehend what was happening, Eiri was kneeling before him and asking him to marry him.

The next several months were a whirlwind of activity: booking the venues for the ceremony and the reception, finding a caterer and a florist, picking out linens, the wedding cake, the DJ, hiring the security, making a guest list and the seating arrangements, deciding on the wedding outfits, trying to get his mother to understand that it was his wedding and not hers…etc, etc, etc.

It had been nothing but one giant headache that had left Shuichi and Eiri wondering why they hadn’t just eloped, but once all was said and done and the “I dos” were exchanged, Shuichi knew it had all been worth it. He was married to the love of his life. What more was there to say?

Shuichi could not remember being happier. Nothing could compare to standing before his entire family and all of his friends as he stared into Eiri’s golden eyes and promised to have and to hold through sickness and health, richer or poorer to death, till death do they part.

Nothing.

Only, Shuichi’s happiness was not to last.

They were leaving the reception and the streets were slick from the blizzard they‘d had the night prior. In a climate where they received a coating of powder on the grass once or twice during the winter, a sudden storm dumping several feet of snow in a twenty-four hour period left the city scrambling and just this side of hysterical. Drivers unused to winter driving where winter means water vapor present in the atmosphere is frozen into tiny ice crystals and coats the earth in a blanket of white, caused one accident after another.

It was the aftermath of the storm they were driving home from their reception in sometime after midnight to begin their honeymoon. Eiri had not said where they were going.

“It’s a surprise,” he’d said time and again.

As they waited at a red light, laughing and kissing and groping and fondling and teasing each other, coming up behind them was a dark colored Honda that hit a patch of black ice and spun out of control. It smashed into the back of their car. The impact was so powerful that it sent the Mercedes careening out into the intersection where it was t-boned by a semi truck and then jackknifed by a light colored Toyota car.

Shuichi could remember none of the accident. The last thing he could remember was sitting in the passenger seat laughing as he fondled Eiri through his white wedding kimono. He could clearly remember Eiri, flushed and hard and muttering something about a certain baka getting his and then…nothing until he woke a month later in Tokyo University Hospital.

All the strength left Shuichi. The mugs he’d been so careful handling earlier slipped from his grip. As if in slow motion, they tumbled to the floor and shattered. Shards of ceramic flew through the air. Several pieces hit him. One even sliced his cheek, drawing blood. Coffee went everywhere. Some of it splashed the wall, some staining the rug, but most of it landed on Shuichi, but the singer took no notice of the scolding liquid.

At the hospital, he’d woken to pain, confusion and his mother at his bedside. The first words out of his mouth upon seeing the spitting image of his baby sister hadn’t been, “What happened” or “Where am I?” but “Where’s Eiri?”

She’d refused to answer him. She hadn’t even looked him in the eye. Instead, she’s immediately fled the room, using the excuse that she was going to go find a nurse or a doctor in order to cover the fact that his question had started her crying.

As his heart exploded in pain, and his soul cried out its sorrow, Shuichi stumbled backwards as his eyes filled with the stinging presence of tears, blurring and doubling his vision. He choked back his sobs. In his blind retreat, he ran into the doorjamb, but took no notice of the stinging pain in his back. Instead, he staggered out of the office and across the hall. When his back hit the wall opposite, sobs exploded out of his mouth. Holding his hands over his mouth, Shuichi slid down the wall to the floor. Drawing his knees to his chest, Shuichi dropped his face to his coffee stained knees and started to cry.

They said he and Eiri had suffered nothing more than whiplash in the initial impact with the Honda, but when they were hit by the truck, Eiri’s back had been broken and he’d fractured several ribs. Shuichi would have been able to walk away with nothing more than a mild concussion and a broken leg, but all that changed when the Toyota plowed into them. Eiri’s fractured rib punctured his lung and his neck was snapped. They said Eiri died instantly. Shuichi’s pelvis was smashed and his back was broken.

“Eiri,” Shuichi cried as his heart broke again and again. A torrent of tears washed down his face. Sobs wracked his body. “Eiri!”

When they finally told him what happened, Shuichi hadn’t believed them.

When they showed him Eiri’s body down in the morgue, Shuichi hadn’t believed them.

When they told him no charges were going to be filed, Shuichi hadn’t believed them.

When he was released from the hospital long enough to attend Eiri’s funeral, Shuichi hadn’t believed them.

When he woke every morning to see his mother at his bedside, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he fell asleep every night without Eiri’s, “Night Baka,” Shuichi refused to believe it.

When his body was wracked by pain, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he started rehab, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he saw the news coverage, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he saw their pity and heard them crying, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he saw his wedding band, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he felt Eiri’s ring around his neck, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he saw his blood soaked wedding kimono, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he was finally released from the hospital and allowed to go home, he refused to believe it.

When he walked into an empty house, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he saw the twisted metal that used to be Eiri’s Mercedes, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When the driver of the Honda tried to talk to him, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When Tohma told him, “If you need anything, I’m only a phone call away,” Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he passed the bakery down the street, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he woke in the night from a nightmare that he couldn’t remember, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he walked through the silent house that still smelled of cigarette smoke, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he saw Eiri’s clothes hanging in the closet, Shuichi refused to believe it.

When he visited Eiri’s grave every day, Shuichi refused to believe it.

He’d tried. God knew he’d tried.

It’s been three years since his Eiri was taken away from him and very nearly left him crippled. He’d tried to deal with Eiri’s death and move on. He’d even gone so far as to go see a shrink, but nothing helped, nothing worked--not even time. The pain was not going away. It never went away. It followed him around like Mary’s little lamb. It wasn’t even a case of having good days and bad days. Every day was a bad day. Every day he felt the ache in his heart and pain in his soul.

Because he knew everybody was worried about him, he’d been forced into deceiving them all into believing that there was nothing to worry about. That his will to live was still as strong as it ever was. That his heart had not been shattered into a million pieces that not even all the king’s men could put back together again. He‘d gotten so good at pretending that he’d even started to fool himself, but then his resolve would crumble when the tiniest, most insignificant detail would remind him of Eiri.

He felt dead inside.

He was nothing without Eiri.

Life held no meaning anymore. What was even the point of getting up each day?

Nothing much held his interest these days. Not Bad Luck. Not his fans. Not his friends. Nothing.

This attitude was not healthy. He knew that, but he couldn’t stop feeling this way. Part of him didn’t want to. Wallowing in his sorrow and misery allowed him to think of Eiri and as painful as that was, he clung desperately to those thoughts.

They say you should remember the good times, but isn’t that the problem? You remember those times you laughed together, or those arguments you had that seemed so silly now, or you remember that time in the restroom at the restaurant and realize it was over. It was all over. There would be no more laughter, tears, shoulders to cry on, road trips, or having sex in the changing room. The realization--that knowledge left you feeling empty and hollow.

Apparently, as good as his acting had been, his mother hadn’t been fooled because she’d tried to get him to move back in with her.

“That house is way too big for one person,” she’d said.

He’d flat out refused. This was the house where he’d lived with Eiri, where he still lived with Eiri, and he was not going to just abandon Eiri just because his mother did not want him living in this huge place by himself.

Then Maiko came over unexpectedly several days later. Yawning, he’d stepped out of the bedroom wearing nothing more than one of Eiri’s shirts that fit him like a dress and saw her tossing Eiri’s ashtray in a trash bag that was already half full. The ashtray was a souvenir they’d gotten on their second date.

“Morning big brother,” she’d greeted him with a bright smile as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn’t just caught her violating him.

He’d snapped.

“I was only trying to help,” she cried.

He’d kicked her out and told her never to come back--that he never wanted to see or speak to her again. And he hasn’t.

As he sat there curled into himself on the floor outside Eiri’s office that sat as it had since the day before the wedding three years ago, Shuichi was vaguely aware of a ringing. It sounded like a phone, but Shuichi ignored it. He was in no mood.

“Baka,” came the husky scolding.

Shuichi’s head snapped up. Red-rimmed violet eyes grew wide at the sight that greeted him. Standing not more than five feet from him, dressed as he had at their wedding was Eiri. He gasped. “E-Eiri?” he stuttered, not quite believing his eyes. Shuichi surged to his feet.

This was not the first time Shuichi has thought he’s seen Eiri. Usually, it was out of the corner of his eye, just as he was waking or when he woke in the middle of the night and was still half-asleep, but the image, or whatever it was, would always disappear.

That was actually what he and Hiro argued about the day before. Shuichi had confessed to seeing Eiri walking about the house from time to time or would feel his arms around his waist and Hiro thought he was losing it.

“I’m worried about you, Shu. Maybe you should see someone,” was what Hiro had said.

Shuichi had told Hiro to fuck off--that he was not crazy and had thrown his phone across the room.

“Oh, God,” Shuichi sobbed. “Eiri!” He took a step forward and reached out a trembling hand.

With a sigh, Eiri shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

Sobbing, tears streaming down his flushed face, Shuichi took another step forward.

“Not even gone five minutes and you’re already a mess.”

Shuichi laughed.

“You have some serious dependency issues you know that?”

That caused Shuichi to snort. “Looks who talking,” he shot back around a watery grin.

Eiri rolled those gorgeous hazel eyes that shinned like the sun. “Well,” he said. “Are you going to just stand there gawking or-?”

The sentence wasn’t even half formed was Shuichi hurled himself into his husband’s waiting arms. “God I missed you, Eiri!”

Smiling gently, Eiri wrapped his arms around his small hyperactive baka, the fabric of Shuichi‘s wedding kimono soft under his roaming hands. “Missed you too,” he whispered into the black locks, which, loose from their earlier restriction, hung down Shuichi’s back.

The confession had Shuichi grinning. Sniffling, he buried his face into the soft, white fabric of Eiri’s kimono clad chest.

Eiri grimaced. Now he was going to have snot all over him. Nice. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “is that my shampoo I smell?”

Shuichi tensed in Eiri’s arms. “…Uh…No?”

Eiri sighed. “Baka.”

Shuichi giggled.

Around the embracing couple, unbeknownst to Shuichi, the scenery was melting. On its heels, a new one was coming into focus. Instead of being within Eiri’s study, they were standing in the middle of the street directly in front of the building in the center of chaos.

Reluctantly, Eiri pulled back and smiled down into the beaming face of his Shuichi. “So, are you ready?”

Shuichi nodded rapidly.

“Good. Let’s go.” Eiri draped an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders and led them unnoticed down the street, passing through a gathering crowd and a black Honda Civic whose front end was damaged.

“Where we going?” Shuichi inquired as he snuggled against his husband‘s side.

“Our honeymoon.”

Shuichi squealed.

“And no I’m still not going to tell you where.”

Shuichi pouted. “Not fair,” he whined.

“Life’s not fair.”

“Jerk.”

“Moron.”

As the happily reunited couple continued to bicker lightheartedly, a young girl not more than ten years old watched them from besides her mother.

“Oharu?”

Oharu turned towards her mother.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” the girl assured his mother. She sought out the two men from among the crowd, but they had already disappeared.

“Come on. Let’s get home.”

“Okay.”

The woman grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her through the crowd and away from the tragic scene.

Oharu glanced over her shoulder at the man lying unmoving in the middle of the street in a pool of blood.

“That poor man. I hope he’s going to be okay,” she heard her mother say.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Oharu said remembering the happy expression on the man’s face.

Her mother glanced down at her with a confused/amused expression. “Oh?”

Oharu smiled back. “Uh huh.”

With a shake of her head, she asked, “How bout some ice cream?”

Oharu squealed in delight.

{ o The O End o }

A/N: How was it? You get it? When Shuichi remembered that Eiri died 3 years ago, he actually raced out of the house and into the street and ended up being hit by the Honda Civic. He died instantly. Eiri arrived to bring him into The Light.

>

Shuichi understood all of that, but what he did not get was the extreme reaction the Council had taken. Surely, they could have just been relocated. So adamant he was on this that he voiced his opinion.

“Ah, well, that option was given to them.”

“Really?” Hope was borne within Shuichi.

That surprised Eiri. The Council he knew would never have allowed a liability to survive in ANY capacity.

“Then-?”

“The Council has a reputation as being ruthless, but even they do not slaughter their own kind unless it is absolutely necessary.”

That would explain a few things, Eiri thought, like allowing a psychotic psychopath such as Kitazawa to run loose for as long as they had.

“So they presented the True Ones with the option to-”

“Wait! What?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What did you just call them?”

“True Ones?”

“Yeah! Why did you call them that?”

Tohma looked uncomfortable suddenly.

That had Eiri’s immediate attention.

“It seems,” Tohma answered after clearing his throat. Though his voice was steady, he still looked uncomfortable. “The Researchers have since discovered that the True Ones may have been the direct descendants to the Ancients.”

Shuichi blinked.

Eiri was floored. That was something he never expected to hear.

Of course, Shuichi had heard all about the Ancients, Vampire forefathers, the legendary Adam and Eve--as it were--that gave birth to the extensive vampire community of today. Some say the Ancient Ones--sometimes referred to as Mother and Father--had been both vampire and shape shifter, which was impossible as both viruses cancel each other out--at least, they did today. There were many legends and stories surrounding the True Mother and Father that it was near to impossible to separate fact from fiction.

“But this was centuries after they had died out,” Tohma said.

Bet the Council were kicking themselves now, Shuichi thought smugly.

“Anyway,” Tohma continued. His back was starting to sweat from the beating it was getting from the sun, so he stepped away from the window and around to the foot of the bed where the coolness of the shadows engulfed him. “The True Ones were called before the Council and given the option of relocating somewhere away from human society. They were told that their activities as well as their appearance had become a liability to all vampire kind-”

Shuichi snorted. “And the Nosferatu line was welcomed with open arms?”

Eiri chuckled. Shuichi had a point. Once he’d had a very good friend from that line. She’d looked like a mutated elf. Not the most attractive bunch of vampires. They couldn’t blend in among the humans even if their lives depended on it, which ironically enough, it did.

“That was exactly what Godard pointed out to the Council,” Tohma said with a look of amusement. “Of course, unlike the True Ones, those of Nosferatu’s line had long since gone underground. They lived in seclusion. I believe they have since died out.” He glanced at Eiri for confirmation.

Eiri shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”

No big loss there, Shuichi thought.

“Anyway, the Council gave them a fortnight to come to a decision. From what I’ve heard, many refused to move, to give up their homes, friends, family just so they could placate some humans. Others were going to take the Council up on their offer, but before anything concrete could be decided one way or another, the manor they had gathered at went up in flames.”

Shuichi gasped. The book, long since forgotten, fell out of his arms and onto the bed, where it bounced several times before settling. “What happened?” he breathed.

Tohma shrugged. “Nobody is entirely sure.”

Shuichi gulped. “Did anyone-?”

Tohma shook his head. “All within the manor perished.”

Tears refilled Shuichi’s eyes.

Eiri glanced at his overtly emotional lover. “Some could have survived,” he said. He had absolutely no idea where this thought came from. All he knew was that he did not like seeing his baka so upset. He would do anything to see a smile on his face.

Shuichi turned towards Eiri. His watery eyes were wide with hope.

“Possible,” Tohma agreed. Out of the corner of his eye, he studied his brother-in-law. “Not likely, but possible.”

He has known Eiri since before Eiri was Turned. The difference in his personality was dramatic. From outgoing and bubbly--not unlike Shuichi--to closed off and suspicious. But once Eiri met Shuichi, the anti-social, stoic bachelor slowly vanished. Nothing will bring back the pre-Turn Eiri, but to see the changes, the wonderful changes, happening to him, to be witness to the block of ice Eiri has spent centuries trapped in thawing, was not anything he thought he’d see.

“But it is possible. You said it was!” Shuichi was on his knees and pointing to Tohma. There was a fierce, determined glare in his amethyst eyes, as if Tohma was about to take back what he just said.

“That I did.”

Shuichi squealed. He flopped onto his back, clapping his hands and flailing his legs in the air. This was too good to be true!

Eiri winced.

The ringing of the phone echoed down the hallway.

“That’s probably Hiro,” Shuichi cried. He somersaulted off the bed, landing on his feet on the opposite side of the bed as Eiri.

Hiroshi Nakano was Shuichi’s best friend. They met a week after Shuichi had been hired as a busboy at Kita when Hiro--who had been one of the waiters at the time--caught Shuichi playing the grand piano just before the restaurant opened for dinner. The two have been inseparable ever since.

“Oo! I cannot wait to tell him!” Shuichi stampeded out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, where the only phone in the house was located. The phone was picked up mid-ring. “Hiro! Hey! Guess what?”

The rest of the conversation was cut short by the shutting of the kitchen door.

“Mr. Shindou is…”

Eiri nodded, as a once rare smile appeared on his face. His baka definitely was.

Despite his initial misgivings, hiring an inexperienced fifteen year old to bus tables at his high class restaurant turned out to be one of--if not the--best moves of his life, though, he would be the first to admit that more often than not, Shuichi drove him nuts.

The smile froze then fell. He eyed the smaller blond Master. “You didn’t make that up did you?”

Tohma merely smiled that smile that meant everything and yet nothing. He Sidestepped out of the room and into the rapidly falling twilight.

Eiri’s frown deepened. This is SO like him.

Shuichi’s laughter rang out.

Though, either way, does it really matter? Not really. Shuichi was happy. Besides…

Eiri smirked. He gazed down at the book that lay forgotten on the bed.

…at least Shuichi’s forgotten his annoyance with him.

“Shit,” he cursed soundly. He should have had Tohma take a look at the books for Truth. Oh, well. There’s always tomorrow.

OWARI
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Fallen: The Story