Ghost Monk

A/N: Thank you everyone who's stuck with me this far. Due to working four jobs and renovating a house, it isn't easy to find time to write. So I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I'm glad I've managed to keep it concise. ^, ^ Some of you posted lines that you'd loved, which gives me an idea of what people think are cool. So thanks for that. My personal favorites, if I had to pick any and that's hard, are Tastuha's ways of answering the phone for Mika. ^, ^ Anyway, you're not here to read my blurb, but my story, so here's Chapter 17.
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Chapter 17 – Would You, uh, Like Hash Browns with That?
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With a strangled gasp, Shuichi slumped to the floor, blocking the entrance, barely aware as several patrons coming out began screaming about a pink-haired girl fainting in the doorway. To Shuichi, it felt like someone had blindsided him and was now sitting on his chest. He couldn’t breathe and his vision grew hazy as he felt darkness trying to envelop him. Whispering followed him into oblivion, though he couldn’t understand the words, ‘Perfect. Just perfect.’ Managing a last groan, a word formed on his lips, and he murmured, “Yuki…”
Leaning close to him to check for a heartbeat, a woman heard his muttering and, hand still resting on his neck to make sure of a pulse, questioned, “Yuki?” She looked up at her companion, relaying the message she couldn’t be sure that she’d heard. “She’s calling for a Yuki.”
Frowning with worry, he nodded and glanced around before opening the door to call inside as well. “Hey! Is there a ‘Yuki’ around here!? This girl is hurt and calling for you! Yuki!?”
Having been in the middle of getting a table, Eiri turned towards the entrance at the shouting, frowning instantly. What the hell sort of drama-queen bullshit was Shuichi pulling THIS time!? After a slight mental debate, he finally declined the table and shifted his reservation for one that would open up in the next twenty minutes. Then he made his way to the entrance to see what the brat was up to and, if he didn’t get a table by then, he vowed to leave Shuichi by the dumpsters before going to eat.

Reaching the scene, Eiri stared down at Shuichi being pampered by a strange woman, though it didn’t look like the singer was conscious. For a moment, jealousy flared within him over the idea that someone else dared touch what belonged to him, but he put it aside. After all, killing the woman wouldn’t help the situation. Lack of food making his attitude deteriorate further, Eiri glared at the woman who stared up at him and asked, “Are you this ‘Yuki’ she called for?”
Deciding she wasn’t worth answering, he debated the tabloid responses that would crop up if he were caught on film carrying the smaller man into the restaurant. Though the world knew and accepted their relationship, it didn’t make him amiable to further trash being printed. The woman was done being ignored, however. She stood and tried once more to get him to answer her. “Hello!? Are you Yuki or not!? Why’re you staring at us if you’re not!?”
Eiri was about to finally tell her what he really thought, granting her some well-rounded acerbic quip, when Shuichi groaned and moved his hand to clutch at his head. The singer opened his eyes, staring up at the crowd for a moment before locking onto Eiri standing above him. Faint honey flecks danced in the amethyst depths for a moment before they disappeared. Thinking he was imagining things, something that wouldn’t be a first in the past few days, Eiri nudged Shuichi with the toe of his shoe, grunting, “Time to get up now, brat.” It earned another irate look from the woman who was still next to Shuichi, giving Eiri suspicious glances.
“Do you need medical attention?” she asked, helping Shuichi to sit up and ignoring the handsome blonde who couldn’t even be decent enough to help someone he clearly knew. Why were the pretty ones always such assholes?
“N-no! I’m okay, thanks!” Shuichi replied, having seen the look in Eiri’s eyes. It meant his lover was very close to snapping and he wanted to spare the poor woman the novelist’s wrath. “Food will help!” he promised, getting up and flexing his fingers for a moment, staring at them distractedly. “That feels so weird, not like the other…”
Giving them all a last irritated frown, Eiri turned and stalked back inside. The twenty minutes were almost up.

Kitazawa watched Eiri walking away from him, and his lips curved up into a coy smile, which thoroughly unnerved the woman. She glanced at him again, not realizing she wasn’t talking to the one who’s body it was, and nodded. “Well okay, if you’re sure. Take care then.”
“Yes, thank you for everything. Take care.” Kitazawa replied, weighing his options. He knew that the more hyper the kid was, the more Eiri would hide in his study and consider things back to normal. If Shuichi kept acting weird, Eiri would become overly concerned and then the novelist would NEVER leave him alone. He needed the time to set up his plan and practice being Shuichi. Deciding to bide his time and get acquainted with the new body, Kitazawa sunk himself into the subconscious part of Shuichi’s mind where he’d learn a lot about him, taking the hang-over with him as he woke the brat up.
Blinking a few times as if to clear his vision, Shuichi stretched and bounced after Eiri, calling, “Yuki! Yuki, wait for me! Can I have strawberry pancakes? With whipped cream??”
Already at the table, Eiri glanced up from the menu to eye the now-sparkly singer, and gave him an odd look. “I thought you didn’t want food.”
“I’m feeling loads better!” Shuichi chirped, giggling and bouncy as always the day after he’d had any physical contact with Eiri.
“Guess falling over knocked something loose in what constitutes your brain.” Eiri muttered into his menu. Smiling handsomely to the waitress, he ordered his usual breakfast, western style, before sighing as the now-genki pop-star ordered a concoction with enough sugar in it to make the kid fly home. A small part of him began wishing Shuichi had retained his hang-over, conveniently ignoring the fact that his koi’s earlier mood had unnerved him. How and why Shuichi suddenly turned on the fairy lights was a subject best left until after breakfast. It was giving him a headache just thinking about it.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Eiri decided that they could manage their now-usual meal routine. It’d taken them a year to hash it out, but they’d managed to figure out a way to have more than one meal in relative peace. Sometime during the meal, Eiri would ask up to three questions, which had to be carefully thought out and not tossed at random. Shuichi would then answer just those questions and be content with that, foregoing the random babbling (which could extend to epic length proportions) that he’d been prone to doing in the past. Thus alleviating the writer’s constant need to throttle his lover to get him to shut up.
The sooner the questions were asked, the sooner Eiri’d be able to eat in peace. Pouring each of them a cup of tee and handing one to Shuichi, which caused the bubblegum boy to squirm happily (was that a fucking TAIL!?), Eiri thought out his first question. It had to be relevant to ‘Events Pertaining to Shuichi’ in an ‘Attempt to Know Your Lover’. Or some shit like that. Fine. Whatever. Che.
“Did Tatsuha do anything to you in the bath?” Might as well start there, since he actually cared about that topic.
Laughing nervously for a moment, Shuichi shook his head, then paused. “Ie, Yuki. He didn’t really…. Well, okay. He tried to scrub my back, but he put the washcloth on my ass. Then he tried to play with me, starting to teach me a song called ‘Rubber Ducky’ and squeezing my ….” He paused, cheeks flaming, as he realized he’d caught the attention of several other customers and the waitress who’d returned with their food. “Um.. when I shouted I wasn’t a bath toy, he left me alone.”
An unreadable expression in his eyes, Eiri grunted as he accepted his food. Time to talk with his brother again. Knowing Tatsuha though, he’d probably reply, ‘But you only told me not to pretend that he was Sakuma-san!’ or some other bullshit that was prone to pissing him off.
One down, one to go. Not to mention dealing with all of the calls that Mizuki had been leaving at his house phone and cell, since his deadline was in a week. Wonderful. This was going to be a fun day, he could tell already. Hopefully it’d be better than yesterday had been.
One could hope.