To The End

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gravitation or any of its characters. Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami, I’m only borrowing them temporarily for entertainment purposes. I don’t make money off this. I just love the characters and enjoy writing.

A/N: Sorry, I took the weekend off. Here\'s you\'re update. =D Has anyone noticed anything about the titles of the story yet? LOL I wrote this one when I was sick, so you\'ll see why it came out the way it did. Enjoy!

Reviewers:

caro8: I hope you continued to love the story as you have been.

Kerurie-dono: Here\'s you\'re update. Sorry it took so long.

Obssessed Sakura-chan: Thank you very much and I hope you like this update just as much as the others. I won\'t answer you\'re questions, only tell you that it\'ll be over soon enough and you\'ll know it all. =D


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My Iron Lung
Week 11
Day 76 of Eiri’s absence

Shuichi shivered under the covers of his bed. He reluctantly opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was 4:48pm. The young man let out a short sigh, which developed into a painful cough.

The singer rolled onto his back with a pained grunt. Shuichi was miserable. His head throbbed; his throat was sore and his entire body felt incredibly tired. The worst part was, despite spending the entire day in bed, he had found little sleep. The stuffiness in his head made breathing difficult, as did the tightness in his chest.

In a fuzzy haze, Shuichi thought he heard someone knocking. He hesitated briefly before he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, put on his slippers and used what strength he could find to heave himself up off the bed. The chill in the air instantly made his body shake. The pink haired boy grabbed a blanket off the bed and draped it over his shoulders.

The knocking made its way through the house again, resulting in a groan from Shuichi as he forced himself to move. Slightly dizzy from being vertical, Shuichi shuffled down the hall, dragging his right hand across the apartment wall for support, while his left hand clung to the blanket to keep him warm.

Another loud, impatient knock sounded as Shuichi made it to the front door. “I’m coming,” he mumbled with a deep, scratchy voice.

Shuichi opened the door to find Hiro standing in front of him with a brown paper bag in his arm. He face was full of concern. “Hey, Shuichi. Wow, you really are sick. You look horrible,” Hiro greeted.

“Nice to see you too,” Shuichi grumbled, then coughed. The singer turned away from the door, pulling the blanket closer to his cold body. Shuichi didn’t bother inviting his friend in. He just dragged his feet, going deeper into the apartment.

“K told me you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d stop by and help take care of you,” Hiro replied, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. The guitarist took his shoes off and lifted the brown paper bag up. “I thought I’d make you something to eat.”

Shuichi felt exhausted by the time he made it to the living room. The distance from the bedroom to the front door had never seemed so far before. The pink haired boy wasn’t sure he wanted to attempt the long trip back. Instead, he settled for collapsing face first into the couch. His body silently thanked him for being horizontal again.

Hiro made his way to the living room. “Shu, how can you breathe with your face in the cushion, like that?” Hiro laughed softly as he walked further towards the kitchen. He placed his bag on the counter and began to unpack its contents.

“I can’t breathe anyway,” Shuichi replied into the cushion before turning his head to the side to attempt to get some oxygen into his sore lungs.

“What?” Hiro shouted from the kitchen.

“I manage,” Shuichi croaked, tucking the blanket around him to form a cocoon of warmth.

Shuichi could hear Hiro unpacking the groceries and laying them out onto the counter, then fold the empty bag followed by the familiar pop of the recycling bin being opened. The long haired man was then heard picking up a kettle and filling it with water. Metal hitting metal indicated it was set on the stove and then a soft sound of the appliance being lit sounded through to the living room. “Are you hungry, Shuichi?”

“No,” Shuichi replied before he sneezed three times in succession.

“Alright, I’ll just make you some tea,” Hiro announced, taking a mug from the cabinet in front of him. The guitarist opened the box of chai green tea on the counter and took out a tea bag to place in the mug.

“Hiro?” Shuichi asked from the couch.

“Yes, Shuichi?”

“Did you happen to get some tissues?” Shuichi questioned sniffling. The sneezing had sprung a small leak from the singer’s nose.

“Yes, of course, I thought I’d be prepared for anything,” Hiro answered, entering the living room with a new box of tissues.

Shuichi took the box offered to him, opened it and blew his nose. Relief set in as the pressure in his head momentarily lifted, only to push back down seconds later.

“So tell me what hurts,” Hiro stated, watching his friend.

“My head is pounding and feels like it’s going to explode. My chest hurts and when I cough, it’s like coughing up razors. My throat is sore and it hurts to swallow. I’m congested and tired,” Shuichi replied, gasping for air every other word.

“Poor Shu. Did you see a doctor?”

“Yes, K made me go.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“He said it was a cold and I needed to relax, sleep and have lots of fluids.”

“Well then, that’s what you’ll have to do.”

“Easy for you to say. I can’t sleep if I can’t breathe,” Shuichi said, making a horrible sound as he tried to clear out his nasal passage for a few seconds.

Hiro flinched. “Don’t do that. It’ll drain more into your lungs. I got you some medications and that should help you out some.”

“Thank you,” Shuichi replied, his eyes trying to focus on his friend standing above him.

The kettle in the kitchen began to whistle and Hiro left to attend to it. Shuichi reached for another tissue, trying to rid himself of the horrible substance that prevented breathing easily. When he was done, he added the used tissue to its brother on the coffee table next to him.

Hiro returned with a mug of tea. “Here, have some chai green tea. It’s good for you and the warmth might help your chest and throat. The steam should help your head a little too.”

Shuichi pushed himself to sit up, the blanket pooling around his waist. He reached up to take the warm mug from his friend. “Thank you.”

Hiro left the room again as Shuichi began to sip the tea. Hiro was right. The tea did soothe his throat and it was really warm. When Hiro returned, he was carrying the empty paper bag he had brought the groceries in. Hiro opened it and put it on the floor next to Shuichi.

“What is this for?” Shuichi asked with a nasally voice.

“It’s for your tissues. It’s not sanitary to put them on the table,” Hiro explained, sitting on the couch near his friend.

“Thanks,” Shuichi replied, immediately throwing away his discarded tissues. “Uh… Hiro?”

“What is it, Shuichi?”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting sick?” Shuichi questioned, sipping his tea more.

“It doesn’t bother me. You need someone and there are things I can do to try to prevent getting ill. Besides if I do get sick, you can take care of me,” Hiro replied, smiling.

Shuichi coughed, the sharp pain in his chest causing him to wince. “Why do they always insist on me being wet in every video?”

Hiro chuckled. “You are drenched in a good portion of our videos, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Shuichi answered, failing to see the humor in the situation.

“I guess our fans like to see you all wet. They either think you’re incredibly hot or utterly adorable,” Hiro replied.

“Guh! Well, they shouldn’t use such cold water. Next time, I’m not agreeing to any rain, waterfalls, streams, lakes, pools or any other bodies of water.”

Hiro chuckled again. “You don’t get sick because of cold water, Shu. You have to have a virus or some bug first. The cold is just a catalyst that speeds things up.”

Shuichi tried to sigh, but coughed instead. “I don’t know where I could have picked up a virus.”

“You’ve been pushing yourself for weeks, Shuichi. I bet you don’t eat or sleep as well as you should be. So it probably lowered your immunity. As for where you picked up the bug, if your immunity was low enough, it could have been anywhere.”

“Thank you for the medical lesson,” Shuichi said, putting his empty mug on the table before taking another tissue to help drain his stuffy head. “Does this ever stop? I’ve been blowing my nose all day. How much snot do I have up there?” Shuichi asked with frustration as he went through three more tissues.

Hiro laughed hard, earning him a glare from Shuichi. “What’s so funny, Hiro? I feel like I’m dying and you’re laughing.”

Hiro shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye as the laughter subsided. “Don’t be such a drama queen. You’re not going to die and I couldn’t help but laugh. You were funny.”

“I’m glad my being sick amuses you,” Shuichi replied sadly. He tossed his used tissues into the paper bag.

“You being sick doesn’t. It’s just you’ve been so groggy and then you said that last part with such force and naivety, it made me laugh.”

Shuichi nodded, but still felt bad. He wasn’t sure if the explanation Hiro gave was valid or not. His brain confused everything. All he wanted to do was to sleep. Shuichi let gravity pull him back down onto his back on the couch.

“Let me get you some medicine. Maybe it will clear you up enough to get some sleep,” Hiro said as if he had read Shuichi’s last thoughts.

Shuichi mumbled, pulling the blanket back over himself. His body was starting to shiver again, the effect of the warm tea in his stomach was already wearing off.

Hiro left and quickly returned with two pills and a glass of water. “Here, take these. I’ll get the space heater in here and you can try to rest.”

“Thank you,” Shuichi repeated. He lifted himself on his left elbow. He took the two pills, popping them into his mouth and took the glass of water from Hiro.

“Where do you keep the space heater?” Hiro questioned.

Shuichi swallowed his pills. “In Eiri’s study.”

Hiro left to get the space heater as Shuichi placed the glass with the remaining water on the coffee table and relaxed back into the couch. He closed his tired eyes. He heard Hiro return and set up the heater before it was turned on.

Hiro sat down in an empty portion of the couch near Shuichi. “You know, it’s almost amazing that you’ve not mentioned how much you miss Eiri.”

“Why do you say that?” Shuichi asked, a bit annoyed at the question.

“Honestly, Shuichi, not too long ago almost every other sentence out of your mouth would be about him,” Hiro explained.

“Things have changed a bit,” Shuichi replied softly. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think about him, because I can’t stop thinking about him all the time.”

Hiro smiled. “I don’t think you would be Shuichi if you didn’t think about Eiri all the time.”

Shuichi groaned softly. “I’m just too miserable already. I don’t need to depress myself with talking about him.” Shuichi could feel tears threaten to escape his closed eyes.

“Don’t worry, things can only look up when you’re at your lowest. Now, try to rest. I’ll make something light for dinner and you can try to sleep some more,” Hiro announced.

“Ok,” Shuichi answered, too exhausted to open his eyes.

The phone let out a loud ring, but Shuichi made no movement that he was interested in it.

“Do you want me to answer it for you?” Hiro asked.

Shuichi groaned. “I think Eiri is avoiding his editor again. She keeps calling here and asking about him. It’s probably just her.”

“What if it’s for you?” Hiro questioned as the phone rang again.

“You’re here, who else would call?”

“It could be K checking up on you.”

Shuichi nodded, “Alright, would you answer it?”

Hiro picked up the phone. “Yuki-Shindou residence. Nakano here.”

Shuichi attempted to steady his shaky breathes and tried not to cough as he exhaled through his mouth. He was too focused on his breathing to pay attention when Hiro called him.

“Shuichi!” Hiro said louder.

“Hm?”

“It’s Tatsuha. Do you want to talk to him?”

Shuichi opened his eyes and pulled a weary arm from under his blanket. He held it out, hoping Hiro would take the hint and would bring the cordless phone to him.

Hiro did understand and walked to Shuichi, handing him the phone. Shuichi pressed the phone to his hear. “Shindou, here.”

“Hey, Shuichi! You really do sound like crap. You doing alright?” Tatsuha’s voice asked.

“No, I’m sick and I feel horrible.”

“Sorry to hear that. I was calling to see when you wanted Ryuichi and me to come over, but…”

“Crap,” Shuichi cut Tatsuha off. He had forgotten he had invited the two over for dinner again a few days ago. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Hey, it’s not a problem. I understand. When you’re sick, it sucks,” Tatsuha answer, stating the obvious.

“Oh no! Shuichi’s sick! That’s no good. Feel better Shuichi!” A faded voice on the other end of the phone called out.

“Ryuichi hopes you feel better, too. If you didn’t hear him, that is,” Tatsuha explained.

“Thanks, I hope I will soon. I hope you don’t mind taking a rain check.”

“It’s no problem. We’ll see you next week. Just get better, okay?” Tatsuha replied.

“Alright,” Shuichi replied, as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

“See you later, Shuichi,” Tatsuha said, hanging up.

Shuichi fought to keep his eyes open. He tried to find the end button on the phone, but his vision began to blur, making the task difficult.

Hiro leaned down, taking the phone from Shuichi. He pressed the button, hanging the phone up. “Try to sleep, Shu.”

Shuichi couldn’t disagree with the request. His eyes shut on their own and his hand that had held the phone, slowly lowered onto his chest. His head felt a little lighter, but it was really fuzzy. He could feel the blanket covering his arm and tucking against him, though he wasn’t sure if he was the one doing it or if it was Hiro. Either way, he knew sleep was taking him over. Sleep was good, he thought, as he drifted off.