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: How did you like the last chapter? Hope it answered some questions you may have had. This chapter is a bit different. There is a song used in this one and it\'s completely original. It\'s actually a snipit of a poem that I wrote for this part. I think it fit well though. I don\'t usually like to use lyrics, but it\'s small so it\'s not so bad. =D Thank you to everyone reading and for those who reviewed and my beta\'s of course. Read on!


----------------------------------------

My Stupid Mouth
Week 5
Day 30 of Eiri’s absence

1:41pm

Hiro watched Shuichi run through some vocal exercises. The pink haired singer stood at the microphone. Eyes closed he stretched his voice from one vocal scale to another. Hiro had noticed that Shuichi began the exercises two weeks ago. Instead of rushing to the microphone and belting out vocals take after take until he was warmed up, the singer now took his time to prepare.

“Shuichi can I ask you something?” Hiro asked still observing his friend.

“Sure.” Shuichi stopped singing and took a drink of water from the bottle next to his feet.

“Why have you suddenly decided to start warming up your voice before recording?”

“Well…” Shuichi started, thinking a moment before continuing. “I decided that I wanted to put everything into this album. If that means taking extra time to warm up so we don’t have to keep cutting to start over, then I want to do that. Besides, if warming up doesn’t help, I can always just go back to singing without practicing. I just wanted to see if it would make a difference.”

“I think it has been working. If anything it seems to give you the confidence to get through the song without trying it again,” Hiro replied, studying his friend.

Shuichi seemed different to Hiro. The singer had been on time to work all week. He seemed more serious in the studio and recording the new album. Shuichi was taking the extra hours needed to get things right and had even insisted on doing the vocals over on an entire song because it hadn’t felt right to him.

“How are you doing, Shuichi?” Hiro asked.

“I’m almost ready to sing, if that’s what you mean.” Shuichi shrugged his shoulders.

“No, I mean outside of work. You really haven’t talked to me much about anything but work.”

“It’s hard a lot of the time, but I’m getting by,” Shuichi replied, putting down his water bottle.

“Just getting by? You seem quieter than normal. Are you sure you’re alright?” Hiro asked. The truth was Hiro was worried about Shuichi. The singer had lost weight, his usual tight pink shirt now fit loosely around him. Shuichi’s normally loud and mood swinging personality had turned quiet and serious.

Shuichi shrugged again. “I’m trying to keep busy. It’s hard to be home, but last week I stated an evening cooking class, so I have something to do before going home.”

“Cooking class?” Hiro blinked, a bit shocked at the idea of Shuichi willing to take any class. “You remember what happened the last time you tried to cook, Shuichi. You almost burned down your apartment…”

“I know!” Shuichi interrupted curtly. “That’s why I’m trying to improve. Alright?”

Hiro was taken back by Shuichi’s harsh tone. He had never heard Shuichi sound so annoyed before. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Shuichi. I was just trying to joke a little.”

Shuichi sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, Hiro. I’m just a little edgy about singing this song.”

“Don’t worry so much, Shuichi. It’s going to sound great.”

“No,” Shuichi replied softly. “It can’t be great. It has to be perfect.”

Hiro stared at his friend. He stood up from his stool and walked over to Shuichi, placing a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “It will be.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can sing it as powerful as it needs. I want to put so much of me into it, so the fans can understand and feel the song; not just hear it.”

Hiro leaned over, whispering in Shuichi’s ear, “I believe you can do it. Just remember how you felt when you wrote it.”

“Thank you Hiro,” Shuichi said, smiling sweetly.

The side door to the studio opened and Sakano-san entered the room. “Are you ready Shindou-san,” the producer asked?

Shuichi nodded and took a seat on a stool near the microphone, putting on the headphones that hung from it. “Sakano-san? Can you dim the lights before we start recording?”

“Of course. Hiro, would you mind coming with me to the control room? Everyone else is watching in there.”

Hiro patted Shuichi’s shoulder once more. “Knock them dead.”

“Thanks,” Shuichi replied, taking a deep breath.

Hiro left the singer, stepping into the control room. Inside, Sakano-san, Suguru, K and a sound technician waited to get started. Hiro took his place in front of the window that separated them from Shuichi. He watched as all the lights dimmed in the other room, leaving Shuichi in shadows.

“Are you ready Shindou-san?” Sakano-san asked as he pressed the intercom button so Shuichi could hear him.

“Yes,” Shuichi answered, nodding.

“Wait,” K interrupted, walking up behind Sakano-san. “Shuichi, I want you to get through the entire song in one try. No matter what, keep going until it’s through. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try,” Shuichi replied, looking through the window nervously.

“Don’t try, just do it. It’ll be great,” K ordered.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” Shuichi nodded and waited for the music to begin.

The sound technician began the playback and hit record; music filled the room. Hiro knew that this was the first time Shuichi had heard the melodies in their completion. The singer had been adamant about Suguru and Hiro recording the music when he hadn’t been there. Shuichi told Hiro that it helped his singing, but the guitarist hadn’t understood his friend.

Hiro examined Shuichi. The singer’s eyes were closed and his body began to move slightly with the beat of the music fed through his headphones. On cue, Shuichi started in with his vocals. Hiro closed his eyes, listening to every word. He could tell Shuichi was putting all his emotions into every syllable.

The guitarist forced his eyes open during the chorus. The impressive vocals were striking through him to his heart. Hiro shuddered, amazed by how wonderful his best friend sounded.

Hiro watched as Shuichi belted out the words, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then the music when soft and Shuichi’s voice altered to the tone of the melody. Hiro felt his heart beating faster. Although, Hiro had always been impressed by Shuichi’s voice, he had never been truly moved by it, as he was now. It was like the singer was dragging him into the song itself.

Shuichi’s voice trailed off to accommodate the guitar solo. Hiro remembered practicing those chords over and over, and even though he had heard the final music before, the notes finally had meaning.

Hiro stared, amazed at the singer before him. He wondered how could such a forceful voice could come from someone as sweet and innocent as Shuichi. Hiro then heard a change in the vocals, making his chest tighten.

Shuichi was speaking the next lines. The guitarist looked to Suguru, who appeared to be just as baffled as the guitarist. Hiro had only heard Shuichi sing this part of the song before, but this time the singer was speaking in a soft and sincere manner. Shuichi’s voice wavered slightly and Hiro didn’t have to look to his best friend to see the tears sliding down the singer’s face; he could hear them.

“If you want blood, I’ll bleed.
If you want tears, I’ll cry.
But baby, if you want love,
Just… just open your eyes,” Shuichi said, voice was just above a whisper.

Hiro felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. The strong emotion that flowed through the young singer’s voice captured him.

The guitarist heard Shuichi sob quietly before pushing his voice back into the powerful ending verse. Hiro focused on his friend’s singing. The tears flowed heavily down the pink haired man’s face. Hiro prayed that the singer would be able to finish the song without breaking down completely.

Finally, Shuichi hit the final note, holding it the best he could, through the sobbing. The singer’s voice wavered again, but the note stayed strong. When it ended, the music slowed, but the soft sobs of his friend trickled through the intercom.

Then, the song was done. Hiro heard the sound technician click off the recording. Hiro looked again to his friend, sitting alone in the dark room. Shuichi was slumped over, with his hands to his face, crying.

Hiro turned to the other men in the room. Sakano-san was shaking his head, Suguru looked stunned and K stood quietly in the corner, apparently deep in thought.

“That was amazing,” Suguru finally said breaking the silence.

“What do you mean? He cried through the entire second half of the song,” Sakano-san replied.

“That’s why it was so amazing. He… he didn’t hold back. You could tell he was crying but he still sang with such… with such intensity,” Suguru answered.

“It was beautiful,” Hiro added.

“We should try it again without him crying and see if it’s better,” Sakano-san argued. “It’s too gritty. No one wants to hear a grown man cry in a song.”

“Are you sure about that?” K said, stepping forward.

“I suppose you’re going to enlighten me why we shouldn’t,” Sakano-san sighed.

“Of course I am,” K began, the blonde’s eyes focused on the singer in the next room. “What’s more romantic than a man baring his soul and feelings to the world? Every Bad Luck fan will be dreaming that the song was sung just for them.”

“Hiro, Suguru, you want this version of the song on the album?” Sakano-san asked.

Hiro nodded and heard Suguru agree to the question.

“The song will go on the album. It’s the best song they’ve recorded yet; so moving,” K said, stating his opinion as fact.

“It was touching, I’ll give him that. I’m just not sure how the public will react,” Sakano-san sighed.

“I told you, they’ll love it. The fans will adore it because it’s so revealing. Just think of all the sales from little fan girls that dream of their boyfriends might one day feel that way about them!” K answered.

“That’s true,” Sakano-san replied, thinking over the words. “You know it could work.”

Hiro looked to K who gave him a quick wink and thumbs up. Hiro nodded then left the control room to check in on Shuichi. Hiro found Shuichi still on the stool, headphones on, face in his hands. “Shuichi, are you alright?”

Shuichi looked up to Hiro, his face wet, sniffling. “I don’t think I can sing it again today. I’m sorry, Hiro.”

“Sorry?” Hiro asked shocked at his friend’s statement. “Why are you sorry?”

“I messed the song up. I just couldn’t stop crying.”

“Shuichi…” Hiro said, hugging his friend tightly. “No, Shuichi, the song was absolutely perfect.”


9:37pm

Eiri sat quietly at the table, staring blankly at the incandescent light of his laptop. He let out a groan, leaning back into his chair. It had been twenty minutes since he had typed anything worth saving.

Eiri reached for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it. The dull sting of the smoke filling his lungs soothed him.

The writer was perplexed as to why his writing had become more of a struggle. Before, he found the peacefulness an inspiration in his writing, but lately it had only served to suppress it.

The story itself was suffering as well. He was only halfway through his novel and already he had had to thwart the heroin’s depression induced suicide attempt. He would have to bring her lover back soon or he might have to find another way to stop her from thrusting her body off from the nearest bridge.

Eiri clicked the save button and shut down his laptop, leaving him bathed in darkness. The orange glow of his cigarette burned brightly as he took a long drag from it. He had to stop for a while, before his headache grew stronger.

The writer mumbled when a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Eiri ignored it and took another deep breath of nicotine. The knock came again, making the writer’s skin crawl with irritation. He punched out his half smoked cigarette, and rose from his seat to answer the door.

“This better be good,” Eiri said gruffly to his visitor.

“Good to see you, too, brother,” Tatsuha replied.

Eiri snorted and retreated into the confines of the room. Tatsuha let himself in, scanning the room.

“How are you?’ Tatsuha asked.

“Fine, until you showed up,” Eiri replied, walking to the desk to collect a new cigarette from its pack.

“I see you’re your jolly self, as usual,” Tatsuha said, smiling widely.

“What are you smiling about?” Eiri huffed, annoyed at his brothers cheeriness.

“Oh, nothing. I just got to go out on a date with my lovely Ryuichi.”

“Oh, joyous day,” Eiri said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“It was actually. I’m even going to see him again.”

Eiri didn’t reply. Instead, he stood facing the window, looking out at the moon. He took a drag from his fresh cigarette.

Tatsuha sighed. “Seriously, Eiri, how are you?”

“I said I was fine. Didn’t I? So, I’m fine.”

“If you say so…” Tatsuha replied, sitting down in a chair across the room. “Though I don’t see how locking yourself in this hotel room is doing you any good.”

“I didn’t ask what you thought,” Eiri replied, his back still facing Tatsuha. “Did you come here for any other reason than to annoy me?”

“I have these for you,” Tatsuha said, pulling a dozen letters from he jacket pocket. “The latest installments from Shuichi.”

Eiri turned his head towards Tatsuha. “How is he?”

Tatsuha handed the letters to his older brother. “I’m sure the letters will tell you more than I can, but honestly I don’t think he’s doing as well as he tries to pretend he is.”

Eiri took the letters from his brother, gently stroking the top envelop with his thumb. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, he went with Ryuichi and I to the zoo, and he just seemed different.”

“Different how, Tatsuha?” Eiri asked impatiently.

“He was real quiet. I mean, really quiet. Abnormally quiet.”

“I get it, he was quiet. What else?” Eiri snapped.

Tatsuha flinched at the sharp tone his brother used, but continued. “He’s lost more weight. He seems more serious than usual. We tried to play around with him, but he just stayed back, like he didn’t want to be apart of it.”

“Is he ill?”

“Ill? Eiri, he misses you. It’s tearing him apart. He’s trying, I can tell, but I don’t know how well he’s really doing.”

Eiri sighed, sitting back down at his desk chair. He let out a long puff of smoke. “Brat.”

“Eiri, you are planning on coming back, aren’t you? It wouldn’t be fair to pull him along like this and then not come back to him.”

Eiri snorted and looked away. “I’m not ready, yet.”

Tatsuha sighed again. “Tell me you at least wrote him a letter. He’s dying to hear something from you.”

Eiri eyed the young monk. “No, I don’t have a letter.”

Tatsuha stood abruptly and walked to the writer, poking him in the arm. “You’re going to write him something. At least let him know you’re alive and thought about him, no matter how little you tell him.”

Eiri released a deep growl. Tatsuha was walking the tightrope that was his last nerve. However, the young man did have a point, no matter how miniscule it might have been. The writer placed the letters he had in his hand gently on the desk, put his cigarette to rest on the ashtray and then opened the drawer retrieving a pen and a loose page of printer paper. Eiri scribbled a quick note before thrusting it to his brother.

Tatsuha looked down reading what was written. “This is it? This is all you want to say to him?”

“Yes,” Eiri replied, picking up Shuichi’s letters he had laid on the desk.

Tatsuha rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll give it to him. The sad fact is, he’ll probably burst from joy just to receive it. Foolish boy. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

“Neither do I.”

Tatsuha folded the letter his older brother gave him and put it into his pocket. “I suppose I’ll let you get back to your brooding.”

Eiri didn’t move. He heard Tatsuha move past him towards the door. “Tatsuha.”

His brother turned. “What is it?”

“Next time you come, bring me a picture of the brat.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked,” Eiri replied coldly. “Goodbye.”

Tatsuha shrugged and left quietly, leaving Eiri once again, alone in the dark. The writer leaned back into the chair. He thought about the words he scratched to paper for Shuichi. It wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say to his young lover, but with Tatsuha plucking his nerves, he had inadvertently taken out his aggression on his partner.

Eiri sighed deeply. The embers from his forgotten cigarette burned out in a small puff of smoke. Maybe next time the words that had eluded him for so long would come to him.