On the Street of Dreams
folder
Gravitation › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
20,839
Reviews:
169
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Gravitation › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
20,839
Reviews:
169
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Gravitation, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Predictions
Chapter summary: “And as the uncontested winners of the Battle, three years in a row, I would like to offer you a recoding contract to Entertainment Records.”
Inserts: “Rage Beat”, Bad Luck
***
Predictions
“...doko ni mo tomarani
mitasanai Emotion SHIKATO kimete oikose yo
furueteru SHAI na seikai no nule-michi o neratte
tadoriitsuku basho e I want New World!”
Shuichi’s voice faded and the song ended to thunderous applause. He grinned and laughed as he stepped away from the microphone. Hiro and Suguru soon joined him. Holding hands, the trio bowed. The audience jumped to their feet, whistling and clapping. They bowed again, feeling elated. They exchanged big grins.
The MC jumped onto the stage, a microphone in his hand. Cain Asakura also ran the Western Bar, which was where the battle was taking place. They sponsored it every year. It was getting so big they were talking about moving it to the park next year.
The Western Bar was just that, an imitation of any bar you would find on any street corner in the States. It was dark, gloomy, smelled of blood, piss, smoke and way too much testosterone. At the back of the rather large alcohol establishment- by the door that led to the back where the bathrooms, storage closets and the manager’s office were- was supposed to be where the pool tables and dart boards were, but tonight it was where the makeshift stage had been set up. Standing on the stage looking out over the patrons, the bar was located along the right-hand wall. Normally the bar could hold about hundred-fifty people, but as Shuichi looked at the whooping crowd, it seemed like they had packed in twice as much.
“Let’s hear it one more time for Bad Luck!”
If possible, the cheering grew louder. Shuichi glanced at Cain as he and his friends and bandmates left the stage and caught the man’s wince. The singer chuckled. Riptyde and Mad Doggs were already waiting backstage when Shuichi and the others trooped back there to await the results.
Riptyde was a quartet rock band with a drummer, guitar player, bassist and lead vocalist. Their rock ballad, “Mega Heart”, had been beautifully written. The musical arrangement had been a little off, but fairly well orchestrated. The lead singer had a raspy voice but his range was amazing. It was said both of his parents were formally trained opera singers. The bands only fault was that they were still a fairly new band and had yet to establish themselves, but it was clear they had a very bright future ahead of them.
The Mad Doggs were similar in style and sound to Bad Luck, but nowhere as good. The trio, like Riptyde, was new onto the scene. Their song, “Wonderland” was written by the keyboardist’s father who taught poetry as a local university. The musical arrangement could use some fine tuning and the lead singer was in desperate need of vocal lessons or should be fired all together. Firstly, he did not know how to sing properly. Secondly, he had been half a beat off the entire song. Thirdly, he hogged the spotlight for himself. The band was going nowhere fast.
“Alright! Who’ll it be? Who’ll be the winners of the tenth annual Battle of the Bands? Will it be newcomers’ Riptyde?” The audience cheered politely. There were a few whistles and shouts. “Or Mad Doggs?” There was only polite applause this time. “Or the reigning champions, Bad Luck!” Mr. Asakura shouted. The place exploded into deafening shouts.
Shuichi found himself grinning so much it hurt. He clapped his hands and squealed, jumping up and down. His eyes were shining when he glanced at Hiro and Suguru.
“It seems we have a winner," Cain Asakura said with a chuckle.
There were more whistles and a few calls for Bad Luck that were soon picked up and became a full out chant. “Bad Luck! Bad Luck! Bad Luck!”
“Ladies and gentlemen! Here they are! The winner of the tenth annual Battle of the Bands, Western Bar is proud to present...Bad Luck!”
The audience jumped to its feet. The sound was deafening. Nobody could hear themselves think. Shuichi shouted and flung himself at Hiro and Suguru. “We did it! We did it!”
“Congratulations, guys,” the lead singer of Mad Doggs said with a grin, holding out his hand.
Shuichi shook his hand and thanked him. The others exchanged congratulatories as Shuichi jumped onto the stage. Grinning like a madman, he threw his hands in the air and shouted. The audience fed off of his energy and cheered louder. The teen walked over to the bar owner and took the hand offered.
“Congratulations!” Cain glanced over Shuichi’s shoulder and waved the other members of Bad Luck over. “C’mon over boys!” Hiro and Suguru rushed onto the stage. They bowed politely and shook hands with the MC. “Congrats, guys! As the winner of the Battle,” he reached into his suit coat and pulled out a rectangular sheet of paper, “here is the check for the 100,000 yen.”
The audience clapped and whistled.
Hiro immediately took the check, thanking the man. He was the band’s accountant and would deposit the check in the band’s savings account. He kept a strict account of what went in and came out. If anyone took money out without his permission, he would know.
“But that’s not all,” Cain Asakura continued.
Shuichi exchanged a confused look with Hiro and Suguru.
“Let me introduce you to Mr. Kiaki Matsusaki. Founder and CEO of Entertainment Records, Japan!”
A man who looked to be in his mid-fifties stood up from the front row of seats and made his way onto the stage to shocked applause. The members of Bad Luck were astonished, to say the least. They exchanged confused, shocked looks. Entertainment Records was the record company that Nittle Grasper belonged to. It was the biggest label in the country. What was going on?
“Mr. Matsusaki?” The bar owner handed the older gentlemen a microphone.
“Thank you, Mr. Asakura. First off, I would like to thank Mr. Asakura and the Western Bar for the warm welcome and say what a wonderful job they’re doing.” There was polite applause. “Next, I would like to congratulate all of the bands. They were wonderful!” Again, the audience clapped. “And finally, I would extend a special congratulation to Bad Luck.”
Shuichi, Hiro and Suguru bowed and thanked the man.
“And as the uncontested winners of the Battle, three years in a row, I would like to offer you a recoding contract to Entertainment Records.”
The place erupted into stunned whispers that gradually turned to thunderous applause once the realization set in, but Shuichi and the other members of Bad Luck stood stunned, unable to take it all in. Shuichi stared at his brother’s boss blankly. He did not hear what he thought he had, right? This was a joke or a dream perhaps? That had to be it.
“A...a con...tract? Are you serious?”
“Of course! What do you say?”
“What do I...?” Shuichi blinked. “I say...” A huge grinned replaced the confused expression. “...hell yes,” he cried. He shouted and flung himself at Hiro and Suguru. Their dream of making it big was one step closer to being a reality!
*
“There ya go,” Shuichi smiled at a young girl that could not be that much older than he was, handing her the napkin and black maker.
The girl squealed and hugged the autograph to her chest. “Thank you!”
Shuichi chuckled, shaking his head. As he turned toward the next person, a figure at the back of the bar caught his attention. His brow twitched briefly in recognition before the man vanished out the front door. Who...?
“Hey, Shu,” called Hiro, as he signed an older woman’s shirt. “Are you all right?”
“Huh?” Shuichi blinked and turned toward his best friend. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He turned and smiled at a young man who handed him a pen and a notebook. Shuichi was surprised to find so many well-known names scribbled in it. But as he added his own, his thoughts turned toward the man he had seen for only a second. Who had he been? And why had he seemed so familiar? Was it because he reminded him of another blond? No, Shuichi was sure that was not it. Maybe he saw him at previous concerts. That was certainly a possibility. Many of the same people showed up no matter where Bad Luck played. As he turned to autograph a girl’s jean clad behind, his thoughts continued to take him back to that mysterious man he had seen for only a second.
*
Hidden in the shadows of the bar, a trio watched the teens with huge smiles on their faces.
“Didn’t I tell you, Tohma? Aren’t they great?” a man hidden under a baseball cap asked just loud enough to be heard above the loud din.
The shorter figure hidden under a long black jacket and matching hat nodded. “You did.”
“And?” the woman standing next to him prodded with a hand over her swollen stomach.
“And we should get outta here while we still can,” he told his friends.
“What?” the taller man whined. “No! Tohma! I want to see Shu-shu! I haven’t seen him in almost six, seven months! Why-“
“Ryu,” Tohma sighed. “If we get recognized, it could start a panic.”
“Yeah, Ryu. This is Bad Luck’s night.”
“Noriko is right, Ryu. Now let’s go. You can see your brother tomorrow.”
“Besides, he isn’t expecting us to arrive until tomorrow night anyway. He might have made plans,” Noriko told her old friend.
Ryuichi Sakuma sighed in defeat and followed the others out of the bar to a waiting car. He knew they were right. If anyone saw him and Shuichi in the same room together, they would be forced to recognize the obvious fact that despite the fact that they were half brothers, they looked like twins. It was not that he was ashamed to be known as Shuichi Shindou’s brother. On the contrary, he loved his baby bro. In a way, he thought of him as more than just a sibling. Because he had practically raised him, he thought of Shuichi almost as if he were his own son. But if the truth were to come out before Bad Luck made a name for themselves, every executive would be pounding on their door and it would be because of their connection to Nittle Grasper and not on their own merit and talent. He understood. He hated it, but he got it.
As he slid into the back of the black limo with its tinted windows, Ryuichi glanced one last time at the bar. He could barely make out his Shu-shu in the middle of that mayhem, smiling and laughing. Ryu smiled at the scene proudly before getting into the car and vanishing into the night.
*
A tall, pale, foreign looking man walked confidently down the street that was not so surprisingly deserted at the late hour. He pulled his hat down lower over his face and turned the collar up on his leather jacket. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he pulled out his car keys and pressed the button on the small remote. A small beep that sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the night echoed down the street and seconds later, the Mercedes purred to life.
Opening his car door, he paused before sliding in and glanced down the street at the bar with a smile and a shake of his head.
The kid was pretty good, he had to admit and got even better every time he saw him, not to mention cute. God was the kid unbelievably sexy and seemed to be even more so with each concert he went to. He just wished he had the nerve to walk up to him like every other damn fan, but that was not his style. Besides, the last thing he needed was for it to come out that he, Eiri Yuki was spotted at a pop concert, a sixteen-year-old boy’s pop concert. God, would the media have a field day with that. He did not know what would be worse. The fact that it was a pop concert, the person he had a serious crush on was a boy or the fact that this boy was six years his junior.
As an all too familiar car drove past, Eiri turned his head away, hiding in the shadows. If they spotted him, they would not let him live it down. They would be worse then the media.
Sliding into his car, he put his seat belt on and drove off to his apartment, thinking about a certain pink haired pop star.
*
It was nearing midnight when Shuichi walked through the park. There was a cool breeze blowing off the river. It was nature’s answer for the sweltering summer day they had.
Walking over to the railing, Shuichi gripped the cool, damp metal and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, the singer hung his head back and let the gentle breeze finger his hair. Sighing, he lifted his head and leaned his cheek on his crossed arms, gazing out over the silent black water.
The bar had rapidly thinned out, leaving behind only the usual bar hoppers that had no interest in techno pop. After, once again, congratulating their battle rivals, both Riptyde and Mad Doggs left, claiming they had early classes. Soon after, Hiro also flaked out. His brother Yuji was flying into town in the morning for a photo shoot and Hiro had to pick him up from the airport.
Yuji was an up and coming model and the only family Hiro had left. Both Mr. and Mrs. Nakano were killed in an automobile accident several years ago. Neither had siblings and their parents passed away by the time Hiro entered middle school. Shuichi felt kind of bad for his friend. His parents may hate his guts, but at least they were alive. When he brought this up to Hiro one day, the boy said, “You, Suguru, Ryu, Tohma, Noriko...You’re all my family.”
Suguru also bowed out from celebrating. He had early classes as well. Besides, his mother was a worry wart and was likely to call the police if her “baby boy” was out too long.
So here he was once again alone, strolling through a deserted park in the middle of the night.
Banging his forehead against his hands, Shuichi pushed away from the railing and strolled over to lie on a bench. Closing his eyes, he placed his hat over his eyes and folded his arms under his head.
He could always go home. The thought made him laugh. Home? What the hell was that? His so-called “father” pretended he did not exist. Mom was slowly beginning to become cold and distant. Neither one cared what he did, where he went, whom he hung out with nor how late or long he stayed away. Hell, they did not even care if he came home. Shuichi knew his father would rejoice if he never stepped foot in his house ever again. Mr. Shindou believed that music was a pointless and useless art, yet he did not care if his son wasted his life on it. He did not try to play the guilt trip like he did whenever Ryuichi was there, trying to get him to get a decent job that would “put food on the table”. His father did not seem to care that Shuichi had not gone to school since Bad Luck was formed.
Home?
It was just a roof with four walls. It was a place where he could rest his head without waking up to a bunch of guys with their hands down his pants.
Wasn’t life grand?
As Kizou said, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”
Wasn’t that the god awful truth?
Shuichi lifted his hat off and set it on his chest, staring up at the night sky that should be teaming with stars but was not because of all the city lights. He soon found himself giggling.
He still could not believe Bad Luck’s fortune. After two years of playing whatever gig they could get, of seedy bars, birthdays, anniversaries, talent shows and battle of the bands contests...two years of pushing themselves to be the best, it finally paid off.
Shuichi chuckled, grinning happily.
Tomorrow evening, after Hiro and Suguru got out of school, they were to go to Entertainment Records headquarters and go over their contract. Hiro said he would ask Yuji to come with them and since Nittle Grasper returned home from their world tour sometime that afternoon, Shuichi would see if his brother could come with them. They had to, of course, get their parent’s permission, but that would not be a problem for any of them.
Maybe now that emptiness he felt inside would disappear. One could only hope.
***
Inserts: “Rage Beat”, Bad Luck
***
Predictions
“...doko ni mo tomarani
mitasanai Emotion SHIKATO kimete oikose yo
furueteru SHAI na seikai no nule-michi o neratte
tadoriitsuku basho e I want New World!”
Shuichi’s voice faded and the song ended to thunderous applause. He grinned and laughed as he stepped away from the microphone. Hiro and Suguru soon joined him. Holding hands, the trio bowed. The audience jumped to their feet, whistling and clapping. They bowed again, feeling elated. They exchanged big grins.
The MC jumped onto the stage, a microphone in his hand. Cain Asakura also ran the Western Bar, which was where the battle was taking place. They sponsored it every year. It was getting so big they were talking about moving it to the park next year.
The Western Bar was just that, an imitation of any bar you would find on any street corner in the States. It was dark, gloomy, smelled of blood, piss, smoke and way too much testosterone. At the back of the rather large alcohol establishment- by the door that led to the back where the bathrooms, storage closets and the manager’s office were- was supposed to be where the pool tables and dart boards were, but tonight it was where the makeshift stage had been set up. Standing on the stage looking out over the patrons, the bar was located along the right-hand wall. Normally the bar could hold about hundred-fifty people, but as Shuichi looked at the whooping crowd, it seemed like they had packed in twice as much.
“Let’s hear it one more time for Bad Luck!”
If possible, the cheering grew louder. Shuichi glanced at Cain as he and his friends and bandmates left the stage and caught the man’s wince. The singer chuckled. Riptyde and Mad Doggs were already waiting backstage when Shuichi and the others trooped back there to await the results.
Riptyde was a quartet rock band with a drummer, guitar player, bassist and lead vocalist. Their rock ballad, “Mega Heart”, had been beautifully written. The musical arrangement had been a little off, but fairly well orchestrated. The lead singer had a raspy voice but his range was amazing. It was said both of his parents were formally trained opera singers. The bands only fault was that they were still a fairly new band and had yet to establish themselves, but it was clear they had a very bright future ahead of them.
The Mad Doggs were similar in style and sound to Bad Luck, but nowhere as good. The trio, like Riptyde, was new onto the scene. Their song, “Wonderland” was written by the keyboardist’s father who taught poetry as a local university. The musical arrangement could use some fine tuning and the lead singer was in desperate need of vocal lessons or should be fired all together. Firstly, he did not know how to sing properly. Secondly, he had been half a beat off the entire song. Thirdly, he hogged the spotlight for himself. The band was going nowhere fast.
“Alright! Who’ll it be? Who’ll be the winners of the tenth annual Battle of the Bands? Will it be newcomers’ Riptyde?” The audience cheered politely. There were a few whistles and shouts. “Or Mad Doggs?” There was only polite applause this time. “Or the reigning champions, Bad Luck!” Mr. Asakura shouted. The place exploded into deafening shouts.
Shuichi found himself grinning so much it hurt. He clapped his hands and squealed, jumping up and down. His eyes were shining when he glanced at Hiro and Suguru.
“It seems we have a winner," Cain Asakura said with a chuckle.
There were more whistles and a few calls for Bad Luck that were soon picked up and became a full out chant. “Bad Luck! Bad Luck! Bad Luck!”
“Ladies and gentlemen! Here they are! The winner of the tenth annual Battle of the Bands, Western Bar is proud to present...Bad Luck!”
The audience jumped to its feet. The sound was deafening. Nobody could hear themselves think. Shuichi shouted and flung himself at Hiro and Suguru. “We did it! We did it!”
“Congratulations, guys,” the lead singer of Mad Doggs said with a grin, holding out his hand.
Shuichi shook his hand and thanked him. The others exchanged congratulatories as Shuichi jumped onto the stage. Grinning like a madman, he threw his hands in the air and shouted. The audience fed off of his energy and cheered louder. The teen walked over to the bar owner and took the hand offered.
“Congratulations!” Cain glanced over Shuichi’s shoulder and waved the other members of Bad Luck over. “C’mon over boys!” Hiro and Suguru rushed onto the stage. They bowed politely and shook hands with the MC. “Congrats, guys! As the winner of the Battle,” he reached into his suit coat and pulled out a rectangular sheet of paper, “here is the check for the 100,000 yen.”
The audience clapped and whistled.
Hiro immediately took the check, thanking the man. He was the band’s accountant and would deposit the check in the band’s savings account. He kept a strict account of what went in and came out. If anyone took money out without his permission, he would know.
“But that’s not all,” Cain Asakura continued.
Shuichi exchanged a confused look with Hiro and Suguru.
“Let me introduce you to Mr. Kiaki Matsusaki. Founder and CEO of Entertainment Records, Japan!”
A man who looked to be in his mid-fifties stood up from the front row of seats and made his way onto the stage to shocked applause. The members of Bad Luck were astonished, to say the least. They exchanged confused, shocked looks. Entertainment Records was the record company that Nittle Grasper belonged to. It was the biggest label in the country. What was going on?
“Mr. Matsusaki?” The bar owner handed the older gentlemen a microphone.
“Thank you, Mr. Asakura. First off, I would like to thank Mr. Asakura and the Western Bar for the warm welcome and say what a wonderful job they’re doing.” There was polite applause. “Next, I would like to congratulate all of the bands. They were wonderful!” Again, the audience clapped. “And finally, I would extend a special congratulation to Bad Luck.”
Shuichi, Hiro and Suguru bowed and thanked the man.
“And as the uncontested winners of the Battle, three years in a row, I would like to offer you a recoding contract to Entertainment Records.”
The place erupted into stunned whispers that gradually turned to thunderous applause once the realization set in, but Shuichi and the other members of Bad Luck stood stunned, unable to take it all in. Shuichi stared at his brother’s boss blankly. He did not hear what he thought he had, right? This was a joke or a dream perhaps? That had to be it.
“A...a con...tract? Are you serious?”
“Of course! What do you say?”
“What do I...?” Shuichi blinked. “I say...” A huge grinned replaced the confused expression. “...hell yes,” he cried. He shouted and flung himself at Hiro and Suguru. Their dream of making it big was one step closer to being a reality!
*
“There ya go,” Shuichi smiled at a young girl that could not be that much older than he was, handing her the napkin and black maker.
The girl squealed and hugged the autograph to her chest. “Thank you!”
Shuichi chuckled, shaking his head. As he turned toward the next person, a figure at the back of the bar caught his attention. His brow twitched briefly in recognition before the man vanished out the front door. Who...?
“Hey, Shu,” called Hiro, as he signed an older woman’s shirt. “Are you all right?”
“Huh?” Shuichi blinked and turned toward his best friend. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He turned and smiled at a young man who handed him a pen and a notebook. Shuichi was surprised to find so many well-known names scribbled in it. But as he added his own, his thoughts turned toward the man he had seen for only a second. Who had he been? And why had he seemed so familiar? Was it because he reminded him of another blond? No, Shuichi was sure that was not it. Maybe he saw him at previous concerts. That was certainly a possibility. Many of the same people showed up no matter where Bad Luck played. As he turned to autograph a girl’s jean clad behind, his thoughts continued to take him back to that mysterious man he had seen for only a second.
*
Hidden in the shadows of the bar, a trio watched the teens with huge smiles on their faces.
“Didn’t I tell you, Tohma? Aren’t they great?” a man hidden under a baseball cap asked just loud enough to be heard above the loud din.
The shorter figure hidden under a long black jacket and matching hat nodded. “You did.”
“And?” the woman standing next to him prodded with a hand over her swollen stomach.
“And we should get outta here while we still can,” he told his friends.
“What?” the taller man whined. “No! Tohma! I want to see Shu-shu! I haven’t seen him in almost six, seven months! Why-“
“Ryu,” Tohma sighed. “If we get recognized, it could start a panic.”
“Yeah, Ryu. This is Bad Luck’s night.”
“Noriko is right, Ryu. Now let’s go. You can see your brother tomorrow.”
“Besides, he isn’t expecting us to arrive until tomorrow night anyway. He might have made plans,” Noriko told her old friend.
Ryuichi Sakuma sighed in defeat and followed the others out of the bar to a waiting car. He knew they were right. If anyone saw him and Shuichi in the same room together, they would be forced to recognize the obvious fact that despite the fact that they were half brothers, they looked like twins. It was not that he was ashamed to be known as Shuichi Shindou’s brother. On the contrary, he loved his baby bro. In a way, he thought of him as more than just a sibling. Because he had practically raised him, he thought of Shuichi almost as if he were his own son. But if the truth were to come out before Bad Luck made a name for themselves, every executive would be pounding on their door and it would be because of their connection to Nittle Grasper and not on their own merit and talent. He understood. He hated it, but he got it.
As he slid into the back of the black limo with its tinted windows, Ryuichi glanced one last time at the bar. He could barely make out his Shu-shu in the middle of that mayhem, smiling and laughing. Ryu smiled at the scene proudly before getting into the car and vanishing into the night.
*
A tall, pale, foreign looking man walked confidently down the street that was not so surprisingly deserted at the late hour. He pulled his hat down lower over his face and turned the collar up on his leather jacket. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he pulled out his car keys and pressed the button on the small remote. A small beep that sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the night echoed down the street and seconds later, the Mercedes purred to life.
Opening his car door, he paused before sliding in and glanced down the street at the bar with a smile and a shake of his head.
The kid was pretty good, he had to admit and got even better every time he saw him, not to mention cute. God was the kid unbelievably sexy and seemed to be even more so with each concert he went to. He just wished he had the nerve to walk up to him like every other damn fan, but that was not his style. Besides, the last thing he needed was for it to come out that he, Eiri Yuki was spotted at a pop concert, a sixteen-year-old boy’s pop concert. God, would the media have a field day with that. He did not know what would be worse. The fact that it was a pop concert, the person he had a serious crush on was a boy or the fact that this boy was six years his junior.
As an all too familiar car drove past, Eiri turned his head away, hiding in the shadows. If they spotted him, they would not let him live it down. They would be worse then the media.
Sliding into his car, he put his seat belt on and drove off to his apartment, thinking about a certain pink haired pop star.
*
It was nearing midnight when Shuichi walked through the park. There was a cool breeze blowing off the river. It was nature’s answer for the sweltering summer day they had.
Walking over to the railing, Shuichi gripped the cool, damp metal and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, the singer hung his head back and let the gentle breeze finger his hair. Sighing, he lifted his head and leaned his cheek on his crossed arms, gazing out over the silent black water.
The bar had rapidly thinned out, leaving behind only the usual bar hoppers that had no interest in techno pop. After, once again, congratulating their battle rivals, both Riptyde and Mad Doggs left, claiming they had early classes. Soon after, Hiro also flaked out. His brother Yuji was flying into town in the morning for a photo shoot and Hiro had to pick him up from the airport.
Yuji was an up and coming model and the only family Hiro had left. Both Mr. and Mrs. Nakano were killed in an automobile accident several years ago. Neither had siblings and their parents passed away by the time Hiro entered middle school. Shuichi felt kind of bad for his friend. His parents may hate his guts, but at least they were alive. When he brought this up to Hiro one day, the boy said, “You, Suguru, Ryu, Tohma, Noriko...You’re all my family.”
Suguru also bowed out from celebrating. He had early classes as well. Besides, his mother was a worry wart and was likely to call the police if her “baby boy” was out too long.
So here he was once again alone, strolling through a deserted park in the middle of the night.
Banging his forehead against his hands, Shuichi pushed away from the railing and strolled over to lie on a bench. Closing his eyes, he placed his hat over his eyes and folded his arms under his head.
He could always go home. The thought made him laugh. Home? What the hell was that? His so-called “father” pretended he did not exist. Mom was slowly beginning to become cold and distant. Neither one cared what he did, where he went, whom he hung out with nor how late or long he stayed away. Hell, they did not even care if he came home. Shuichi knew his father would rejoice if he never stepped foot in his house ever again. Mr. Shindou believed that music was a pointless and useless art, yet he did not care if his son wasted his life on it. He did not try to play the guilt trip like he did whenever Ryuichi was there, trying to get him to get a decent job that would “put food on the table”. His father did not seem to care that Shuichi had not gone to school since Bad Luck was formed.
Home?
It was just a roof with four walls. It was a place where he could rest his head without waking up to a bunch of guys with their hands down his pants.
Wasn’t life grand?
As Kizou said, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”
Wasn’t that the god awful truth?
Shuichi lifted his hat off and set it on his chest, staring up at the night sky that should be teaming with stars but was not because of all the city lights. He soon found himself giggling.
He still could not believe Bad Luck’s fortune. After two years of playing whatever gig they could get, of seedy bars, birthdays, anniversaries, talent shows and battle of the bands contests...two years of pushing themselves to be the best, it finally paid off.
Shuichi chuckled, grinning happily.
Tomorrow evening, after Hiro and Suguru got out of school, they were to go to Entertainment Records headquarters and go over their contract. Hiro said he would ask Yuji to come with them and since Nittle Grasper returned home from their world tour sometime that afternoon, Shuichi would see if his brother could come with them. They had to, of course, get their parent’s permission, but that would not be a problem for any of them.
Maybe now that emptiness he felt inside would disappear. One could only hope.
***