Chapter 3

Hiroshi stretched as he climbed off the bike, loosening muscles stiff from staying in one position too long. He wasn't used to being the passenger on a bike, but his was in the shop so they'd ridden double on Omi's.

He unsnapped the chinstrap of his helmet and pulled it off, letting the gentle evening breeze ruffle through his hair. Omi was still straddling his bike, though he had likewise removed his helmet. Hiro gazed down at the boy blinking up at him in the light from the streetlight, and reflected on how strange life could sometimes be.

It had only been three weeks since that first date, but Hiro could hardly remember life before he'd known Omi. They'd seen each other nine times, and talked on the phone almost every night. Becoming a pop star was a lot more difficult than Hiro had ever imagined, and he'd imagined it could be pretty difficult; Omi had been a fountain of strength and reassurance for him whenever he needed it. He found himself turning more and more to the younger boy for support as Shuuichi became increasingly entangled with Yuki.

Their friendship had blossomed rapidly, forging a bond stronger than most peoples' years-long friendships. Thus far they hadn't done anything physical with each other beyond occasionally holding hands and trading a few shy, awkward kisses, but the strength of the attraction between them was obvious to them both. It was only a matter of time before they moved on to the next level; Hiro was willing to wait until they were both ready for it.

"That was fun, Hiro-kun," Omi commented, breaking into his train of thought. They'd spent the evening at a video arcade, blowing a ridiculous amount of money trying to best each other's scores. Omi had finally inched out on top, but only barely.

"Aa," Hiro agreed readily. Even if he hadn't thought so, he would have agreed just to see the brilliant smile Omi bestowed on him. Those smiles are addictive, he thought headily as he drank in the sight. Omi had a way of smiling that including the entire universe around him in his delight, making it impossible to stay upset or depressed around him.

"Do you want to come in?" he blurted out impulsively, not wanting the evening to end just yet. "We could have some coffee or something."

Omi glanced up at him shyly. It was the first time either of them had offered to let the other come in after one of their dates, and it felt like a significant step in their relationship. "I'm really trying hard not to stunt my growth," he murmured in reply, his smile turning ironic. Hiroshi laughed and reached out to ruffle the shorter boy's hair.

"Hot chocolate, then. Wouldn't want to feed you anything that might keep you from finally hitting puberty."

"Hey!" Omi protested mildly, swinging his leg over the seat of the bike and propping it up on the kickstand. "Are you saying I'm prepubescent? Doesn't that make you a cradle robber or something?"

"Yup," Hiro agreed cheerfully, leading the way up the walk and fumbling for his keys. "I'm a chibi hentai, can't you tell? I'm not interested unless your voice hasn't changed yet."

Omi rolled his eyes. "My voice has too changed. Hidoi."

Hiro chuckled and opened the door, kicking off his shoes in the entry. "It's a lot messier than usual - I made a mess this morning looking for something and didn't get a chance to clean it up," he apologized as Omi came into the little one-room apartment behind him. "And it's really small. But it's not like I spend a lot of time here anyway."

Omi glanced around, and grinned. "Yes, and yes. But I've seen much worse. You should see Ken-kun's room - I forget what colour the floor is. Or Youji-kun's, for that matter; I'm pretty sure he doesn't HAVE a floor, just a pile of clothes that goes down to infinity."

Hiro chuckled as he pictured that. He'd spent a fair amount of time at the flower shop over the last three weeks, and he was on friendly terms with the other florists Omi lived with. They were a strange bunch, and he couldn't imagine how they could all live and work together without killing one another, but life around them was certainly never boring.

There was only one chair, and it was piled high with sheet music and notepaper. Omi flopped down onto the bed instead, putting his hands behind him and leaning back on them. Hiro moved to fill the little electric kettle and plugged it in.

He joined Omi on his bed, sitting at the head and leaning against the wall. The silence between them was a little awkward; the small confines of the room made their proximity feel more obvious. They'd only have a shift a few inches, and they'd be touching...

Omi sighed and gave an odd little half-shrug, and crawled up the bed until he was even with Hiro. He settled in between the other boy and the wall, head on Hiro's shoulder and touching all down the length of their bodies. It was the closest they'd ever been, and Hiro thrilled to the warm little streaks of feeling it sent running through his body.

"This is nice," he commented lazily, and Omi nodded against his shoulder.

"Mm. I like being near other people like this, but I don't get many chances to do it."

Hiro thought over what he knew of Omi's childhood and friends, and nodded to himself. No parents, raised by a guardian old enough to be his great-grandmother, and of the three people he spent most of his time with only Ken was really the type to go in for hugs. Hiro worked his arm out from under Omi's body and wrapped it around the younger boy's shoulder, squeezing.

There was silence again, but it was a comforting silence this time. They lay quietly together, soaking up each other's body heat and being lazily content. Hiro half-subconsciously started stroking along Omi's shoulder and back, and he leaned into the touch like a cat, practically purring with pleasure.

"You know, I think you must have a neko somewhere in your ancestry," he told Omi in some amusement. "You certainly act like one sometimes."

"Niao," Omi replied, and they both chuckled. "All four of us resemble cats sometimes. That's why it's so appropriate that we work at a store called the 'Koneko no Sumu'. As Youji-kun put it once: I have the traits of an affectionate kitten, Ken-kun is like a playful kitten, Aya-kun is the sort of cat that never lets you forget that humans worshipped them as gods once, and Youji-kun is like a tomcat on the prowl."

"Kawaii!" Hiro exclaimed in delight. "That's adorable - and a very accurate description of your personalities. Out of curiousity, does Aya ever smile?"

Omi sighed. "Sometimes. Not very often, though. Mostly when Aya-chan is around."

"Who's Aya-chan?"

"Aya-kun's imouto. She was in a coma for two years, and she just woke up a while ago. She's all the family he has in the world, and he loves her to pieces. But we don't see her very often, unfortunately - she's in college in Kyoto, and only comes home on breaks. She wanted to go to Tokyo U, but Aya-kun thought it would be better for her to go someplace new, where she didn't have to deal with two years of sudden changes all over the place."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "Two years? She's lucky she woke up. After that long, the chances of a coma patient waking are practically zero. That must have been hard on him - no wonder he seems so withdrawn. But why do they have the same name?"

"Oh." Omi chuckled. "Aya-kun's name is actually Ran, but when he first came to live with us he introduced himself as Fujimiya Aya. We didn't even know about Aya-chan's existence until a few months ago. He told me once that he'd felt guilty because he lived through the bomb that killed their family, so he took her name so she could kind of live through him. Of course once she woke up he tried to go back to using Ran, but..." he shrugged, "we just couldn't get used to calling him that. We kept messing it up, until he finally told us just to forget it. So whenever we're talking about his sister, we call her Aya-chan."

Hiro couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he fell silent again, just enjoying the feel of Omi's warm body against him. "So..." Omi started, then broke off as though he were embarrassed. Hiro glanced down and saw that the other boy's cheeks were pink.

"So?"

"So... we've been together for three weeks now." Hiro nodded when Omi paused as if for confirmation. "I guess... does that make us boyfriends?"

Hiro thought about it. "Do you want to be boyfriends?"

Omi blushed a little harder. "I wouldn't mind."

"Then I guess we are," Hiro smiled down at him. Omi smiled shyly back. "I've never had one before. Never had a girlfriend before, for that matter."

"Me neither. Well, I sort of had a girlfriend for a little while, but it turned out she was my half-sister, and I wasn't very upset when I found out - in fact, I was more relieved than anything. It meant she wouldn't expect me to kiss her any more."

Hiro chuckled at that. "It must have been nice to find out that you still had some family alive after all," he commented. "Where is she now?"

Omi's face closed up all of a sudden, his eyes becoming lifeless. "She died," he replied shortly. Hiro sensed that it wasn't something the other boy wanted to talk about, so he didn't ask what had happened. Instead, he changed the subject.

"So does that mean you wish I wouldn't expect you to kiss me any more?" he teased gently. Omi remained pensive for a moment, then let the dark mood slide away as he smiled again.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied lightly. "I guess I can just close my eyes and think about something else."

Hiro growled at him playfully. "You think so, huh? All, right, trying thinking about something else during this!" He shifted so he was leaning half-over the other boy, and sealed his lips over Omi's mouth.

Omi responded willingly, wrapping his arms around Hiro's neck and opening his mouth to the older boy's assault. Hiro slid his tongue inside, the first time they'd gone beyond just touching lips, and caught and tangled with Omi's tongue. They dueled back and forth for a moment, then gave up the struggle for dominance and just concentrated on exploring each other.

The need for air forced them to break apart just as the kettle started whistling, and they stared at one another, panting. "Go unplug the damn thing," Omi whispered to him, and Hiro lifted himself off the bed, groaning.

It was two short strides to the kitchen counter, and he yanked the cord out of the wall with uncharacteristic force. Just that one simple kiss had been enough to set his body on fire, but he felt chilled now without Omi's heat against him. He turned back to the bed, and his heart skipped a beat. Omi was sprawled out over his coverlet, watching him through half-lidded eyes with a sensual smile playing over his lips. The beginning of a bulge was just visible at the front of his jeans, and Hiro felt his own body respond.

"How do you manage to be both adorably cute and unbearably sexy at the same time?" he asked as he slid back into place at Omi's side. Omi leaned up and locked lips with him again, and Hiro forgot the question.

For several minutes they just held each other and kissed, each hotter and deeper than the last. They were both healthy teenagers, and the pressure of their bodies built at a steadily increasing rate. Eventually hands started to wander, tentatively touching and exploring the planes and angles of their torsos. Hiro rubbed circles over Omi's back, and Omi returned the favour by trailing his fingertips over Hiro's chest.

Hiro broke away breathlessly and brought his hands to the front of Omi's shirt, hovering over the top button. "Is this okay?" he asked, not wanting to rush Omi but desperately needing the touch of skin against skin. Omi nodded, eyes shining brightly, and Hiro feverishly set to work.

"I'm going to feel underdressed," Omi whispered into his ear as he worked, taking the opportunity to nibble on his earlobe. Hiro shuddered.

"Then I guess I'd better join you, huh? Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable," he returned huskily. Omi wasted no time getting to work, nimble fingers flying over the buttons. Soon both their shirts were hanging open, and they embraced again, gasping at the heat generated between them.

Hiro forced himself to slow down, wanting to savour this first experience. He worked his hands under Omi's shirt and around to his back, kneading the flesh there and drawing moans from Omi's throat. The skin was fantastically soft, but here and there a scar marred the surface. "What happened?" he asked curiously, tracing a finger along one of them.

Omi jerked at the sensation, and pulled away a little. His eyes had gone dark again, and he looked away. "I don't really remember," he answered, voice shaking a little.

Hiro glanced down, and spotted a few more on Omi's chest, some of which looked fairly recent. "What about these?" he asked, touching one lightly. Omi shrugged, and forced a weak smile.

"What can I say? I'm a klutz. I'm always injuring myself one way or another. Youji-kun says it's just growing pains, and I certainly hope so! I don't want to be this short forever." It was a lame attempt at a joke to redirect Hiro's attention, but he let himself be distracted. It was clear that Omi didn't want to talk about this, either. "I hope they don't bother you..."

Hiro kissed him silent. "Don't be silly," he chided him gently. "They're just lines - I've got a few of my own. They're part of you, so how could they bother me?"

Omi gave him a sunny smile and kissed him by way of thanks. That succeeded in completing the distraction, and Hiro returned to what he'd been doing originally.

Omi gasped and arched against him whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot with his fingers, and he set to searching out every sensitive spot he could find. Omi retaliated by pinching his nipples and toying with them, setting off little sparks in Hiro's body. He slid his hands down to the younger boy's ass, cupping the flesh through the thick denim of his jeans and pulling him closer.

The both moaned as their groins brushed, and Hiro moved against him again. Omi kissed him passionately, making soft sexy little cries in the back of his throat with every brush of Hiro's fingers. Hiro brought his hands around to the front again, working at the button of the jeans.

Omi broke away and reached down to catch his hand, blushing. "I... I don't think..."

Hiro shook his head to clear it of the haze over his thinking, and smiled at him. "Not ready yet?" Omi nodded.

"I'm sor..." he started to apologize, but Hiro hushed him with a quick kiss.

"Don't apologize, baka. Now that I'm thinking again and not just reacting, I don't think I'm ready for that, either." He sobered, gazing down at Omi seriously. "Don't ever think that I only want to be around you for sex, Omi. IF the time ever comes when we decide to go all the way, don't feel like that obligates you somehow, either. If there's a day when you don't feel like anything but some cuddling, just say so. I'm just as happy lying here holding you and talking as I am lying here holding you and making out." He grinned wryly. "Certain portions of my anatomy may not agree with me, but I've never let them rule me before, and I don't intend to start now."

Omi's eyes shone. "Hiro-kun," he whispered, overwhelmed. "Gods, going to the club that night was the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm so lucky to have you!"

"Don't you forget it, bishounen," Hiro teased in reply. He returned to rubbing Omi's back, stroking the skin gently and occasionally stopping to knead a tense muscle.

"Do you want to stop for the night?" Omi asked, sounding a little wistful.

"I think I can deal with a little more frustration if you can," Hiro answered with a grin. He leaned in and kissed Omi again, taking it slow and easy this time.

Gentle and sweet proved to be just as powerful in the end as fast and passionate, though they kept their focus above the waist. Hiro found that he wasn't as frustrated as he thought he'd be - though his body made it very clear that it wouldn't mind going farther, just holding and touching Omi was enough to content him.

It took him a moment to register the knocking on the door as something separate from the pounding of his heart in his ears. Omi caught it first, pulling away and glancing over at it in confusion. "It's nearly midnight," he said, puzzled. "Who would be coming over now?"

Hiro shrugged. "Shuuichi's at Yuki's, and you're here. That accounts for the only two people I'd bother letting in at this time of night, so they can just come back tomorrow. Ignore them." He suited actions to words and kissed Omi again.

The knocking became a pounding, and Hiro thought he could hear his name being shouted as well. Sighing, he gave it up for a bad cause and rolled off the bed with a groan. Glancing down he found that his shirt had been lost entirely somewhere along the way, and the state of his body was really damned obvious in his tight jeans, but he decided he didn't care. He was presentable enough - whoever it was could damn well deal with the fact that they were interrupting something.

Omi rolled over onto his stomach to hide his own condition, and Hiro stalked over and threw open the door, ready to chew the hell out of whoever was standing there. He was brought up short as Shuuichi tumbled abruptly into his arms, having obviously been leaning on the door for support.

"Shuuichi?" he exclaimed in surprise, catching his friend awkwardly. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were going with Yuki..." he trailed off as he took in the tears on his best friend's cheeks and the overpowering smell of alcohol on his breath. Swearing under his breath, he led the wobbling teen into the room and lowered him to sit on the foot of the bed.

Shuuichi was sniffling, still crying in jags, and completely plastered. He couldn't even sit upright without help. Hiro was a little alarmed at the state he was in, and wondered how the vocalist had made it all the way here alone. "Shuuichi?"

"I hate him!" the overwrought boy burst out, suddenly furious. "He's an arrogant, insensitive, overbearing pinprick, and I hate him! I'm never going back there, not ever. Not even to get my stuff! Well, maybe to get my Nittle Grasper video that Ryuichi gave me - but I'll do it when he's not there!" he finished, incensed. Hiro was a little bemused by the torrent of words and emotions, and glanced over Shuuichi's shoulder to the other end of the bed.

Omi was sitting up against the wall now, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, watching them wide-eyed. Seeing him and Shuuichi in such close proximity for the first time made the resemblance between them even more obvious, though it also made the subtle differences easier to see. Omi tilted his head towards the door and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if Hiro wanted him to leave. Hiro shrugged back at him, mouthing, 'it's up to you.'

Omi slid off the bed and cleared his throat softly, to let Shuuichi know that there was someone behind him. "I think I'd better go now," he murmured, reaching for his helmet. He paused as he realized his shirt was still undone, and blushed.

Shuuichi glanced at him in surprise, and then looked back at Hiro, finally taking in his friend's disheveled state. "Oh! Hiro, I... I thought you were just sleeping or something..." He wobbled to his feet despite Hiro's attempts to keep him seated, looking miserable. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I'll go somewhere else..."

"No, don't be silly," Omi broke in gently, reaching out to touch his arm and subtly lending him some support. "You're his best friend, and you need him. I should really be getting back now anyway, or the others will worry."

Shuuichi hiccupped and listed, and both Omi and Hiro had to jump to catch him and hold him upright. "I thought you were straight, Hiro," he mumbled, confused.

Hiro snorted. "About as straight as you, baka. I'm just a little less obvious about it. Don't you think I'd have had a girlfriend by now if I was interested in one?" Between them they managed to maneuver him back to the bed, but somehow Shuuichi wound up leaning against Omi's shoulder, effectively trapping him in place.

"You look just like Ryuichi," Shuuichi told Omi in a slurred voice. "Do you like Nittle Grasper?"

"You mean there are people out there who don't worship Sakuma Ryuichi?" Omi asked in mock surprise, winning a weak grin from Shuuichi.

"Sorry to break up the Ryuichi fan club meeting, guys," Hiro interrupted them sarcastically, "but Shuuichi, would you mind telling me WHY you showed up drunk at my door at midnight?"

Instantly Shuuichi was mad again. "It's all Yuki's fault! I was working on the new song, and watching the Nittle Grasper video for inspiration, and that jerk started in again about how I have no talent and he had the nerve to say that I was copycatting Nittle Grasper's stuff!"

"You have lots of talent!" Omi protested, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "I was at your first concert - if your songs weren't any good, then Ryuichi wouldn't have sung with you!"

Shuuichi calmed a little. "That's true," he mused. "And K actually left Ryuichi to come manage us..."

"Touma thinks we have enough talent that he's willing to give us NG's back-up," Hiro reminded him. Shuuichi made a face.

"Touma doesn't want me to write my own songs either! He sent that annoying little KID to us, when Bad Luck has always been just the two of us..."

Hiro rolled his eyes. "I thought you were over that. Fujisaki doesn't write the songs, he just does the arrangements. And you have to admit he's a genius at it. The melody and lyrics are still yours, Shuuichi."

"But Yuki said..."

"Screw Yuki!" Hiro interrupted him harshly. "Damn it Shuuichi, you never had any confidence issues before you met him. Why do you let him mess with your head like that? Why do you stay with him at all?"

Instantly Shuuichi was on the defensive, and Hiro knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing. "What's that supposed to mean? I thought you were happy for me! You said you supported me..."

Omi broke in before Hiro could get frustrated enough to start yelling. "Hiro-kun is your friend, Shuuichi-kun, and he worries about you. He doesn't like seeing you unhappy. And you certainly seem unhappy right now - so why DO you stay with him?"

"Because... because..." Shuuichi's eyes filled, and he dissolved into tears. "Because I love him. No matter what he does to me, no matter what he says, I just keep going back, because every once in a while he lets his guard down and I can see how much he needs me..."

Omi smiled at him encouragingly. "From what Hiro-kun has told me about Yuki-san, he reminds me a lot of my friend Aya-kun. It sounds to me like someone has hurt him very badly in the past, and now he doesn't really believe that anyone could love him. He wants to believe you when you tell him you do, but he's sure you're going to change your mind eventually. So he keeps testing you, trying to push you away, to see if you'll come back. People like that tend to make their lives a self-fulfilling prophecy, unless someone very stubborn just keeps refusing to be pushed away until they're convinced."

Hiro marveled that Omi could paint such an accurate picture of Yuki Eiri without ever having met him. And the way he put it, Hiro suddenly understood the surly writer a little better, and didn't feel quite so hostile towards him for the way he treated Shuuichi.

For his part, Shuuichi looked like he was having a revelation. "Push me away to see if I'll come back... I never thought of it that way. But he does, he really does!" He started crying again, but they were tears of happiness this time. "That means he really does love me, 'cause he wouldn't be afraid of me leaving him if he didn't care, right?" Omi nodded, smiling encouragingly at him, and Shuuichi struggled to his feet again.

"Well, if there's one thing I'm really good at - besides music - it's being stubborn! I got him to let me move in with him in the first place - I'll just keep coming back until he knows he's never going to get away!" He staggered for the door, and Omi and Hiro leapt after him to keep him from knocking himself silly. "I'm going home right now to tell him so!"

"He lives all the way across town, Shuuichi!" Hiro protested, trying to hold back his overly determined friend. "You're completely plastered, you'll never make it there."

"I'd offer to give him a ride, but I'm afraid he'd fall off the bike," Omi confided in a whisper. Hiro nodded.

"Look, Shuuichi, just sit down, okay? I'll call Yuki and get him to come pick you up."

Shuuichi turned big wobbly eyes on him. "What if he doesn't come?"

Omi patted him on the back. "I'm sure he will. He's probably spent the last few hours since you left trying to convince himself that he's better off without you, and failing. He'll be anxious to see you come back, even if he won't admit it to himself."

Shuuichi nodded happily - then his expression suddenly changed. "Uh... I think I'm going to be sick," he announced miserably.

Before Hiroshi could even react, Omi had Shuuichi's arm over his shoulder and was half-carrying the other boy the few steps to the bathroom. They made it just in time - no sooner was Shuuichi in place before the toilet than his stomach heaved up its contents. Omi held his hair back from his face and rubbed his back soothingly as he threw up, and Hiro leaned against the wall and watched in amusement.

"You look like you've had practice at this," he commented to Omi, who threw him a smile.

"Youji-kun comes home drunk more often than not sometimes, and I'm usually the one who ends up helping him to bed. Ken-kun gets sick himself if he sees someone throw up, and Aya-kun can't be bothered. He and Youji-kun don't get along very well. Ne, can you wet a washcloth with cold water for me please?"

Hiro moved to obey, handing him a damp cloth. Omi folded it and laid it across the back of Shuuichi's neck. "I'm going to go try to get a hold of Yuki," Shuuichi said, "if you can handle him?" Omi nodded and waved him out of the tiny room.

Yuki picked up on the first ring with a curt, "Yuki here." Hiro rolled his eyes.

"Shuuichi is currently emptying his guts in my bathroom," he said conversationally, "and just finished the worst crying jag I've ever seen him on. Whatever you said to him, you really did a number on him." Yuki apparently couldn't find anything to say to that, because there was silence on the other end. "Anyway, he wants to go home now, and I don't think he's going to be able to stay on the back of a bike. And no way is he going to make it all the way over there walking. I'm amazed he made it here in one piece."

"I'm on my way," was all Yuki said, and he hung up abruptly. Hiro sighed. There were days when he really wondered if Shuuichi's life wouldn't be better if Hiro bashed him over the head and dragged him off somewhere far, far away from Yuki Eiri. If Shuuichi hadn't been so completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with the guy, he might have done just that.

"He's on his way," he called into the bathroom. The sounds of puking had ceased for the moment, and he could hear the two of them murmuring softly to each other. As he approached the door, he could make out Ryuichi's name and the words 'Nittle Grasper' on a regular basis. Smiling to himself, he opened the door to find Shuuichi sitting on the floor leaning against the bathtub sipping at a glass of water, with Omi perched on the edge of the tub keeping him distracted with conversation.

"...thought he looked so cool, so I ran right out and got the same haircut," Omi was saying as he entered. He looked up and smiled at Hiro, and continued. "I wanted to wear the eyeliner too, but my guardian wouldn't let me."

Shuuichi sighed. "Eyeliner really shouldn't look that good on guys, but Ryuichi manages to make it look like the sexiest thing ever..."

"Momoe-san was right, though," Omi replied practically. "For one thing, I get enough teasing for working in a flower shop. For another, my eyes are too big - the eyeliner would just make them look even bigger, instead of emphasizing them they way it does for Ryuichi. You'd have the same problem, I think." Shuuichi nodded, then gulped hard as the motion upset his stomach again.

"I remember when they broke up, I was devastated. I moped around for a week, just listening to their albums over and over and being upset because there wouldn't ever be any new songs."

"I have all of Ryuichi's English albums," Omi contributed. "The early ones are kind of funny, because his accent is pretty strong, but the latest ones are fantastically good. He's getting really popular over there, too."

"Do you speak English?" Hiro asked, intrigued. Omi nodded.

"Yes, all four of us do. We get a lot of the American customers because of it." He grinned. "Personally I think Youji-kun only agreed to learn it because it impresses the girls, but..."

An authoritative knock on the door interrupted him, and Hiro rose to his feet. "That's probably Yuki. I'll get him." He made his way to the front door while Shuuichi was still trying to get to his feet, and opened it to find Yuki on the other side.

"He's pretty plastered," was Hiroshi's greeting, "but I think he's done being sick, so you should be able to get him home okay. He's in the bathroom. Try to get him to drink some more water so he's not too hung over tomorrow, please? We've got an early practice."

Yuki looked as arrogantly confident of himself as ever as he brushed past Hiro to get inside, but Hiro thought he could see a glint of remorse in the author's eyes. He paused before going into the bathroom, staring straight at the door as he spoke. "I didn't mean it to come out as harshly as it did," he said stiffly. "He ran out before I could take it back."

It was the closest thing to an apology Hiroshi had ever heard the man make, and he knew it had cost him to unbend even that much. Despite himself, he softened to him. "You know how high-strung he is, especially about his music," was all he said, but his tone was forgiving. Yuki nodded, and strode into the bathroom.

He came out a moment later carrying Shuuichi in his arms like a child, with Shuuichi protesting the whole way that he could walk just fine, thank you. Omi trailed behind them, looking amused and trying to hide it from Shuuichi.

They got the complaining musician safely into the car, and Omi paused to admire it. "Is this a Porsche?" he asked, running a hand gently along the contours. "It looks a little like Aya-kun's car, but it's hard to tell in the dark."

"Aya has a Porsche?" Hiroshi asked incredulously. "How much do you guys get paid, anyway?"

The shadows made it hard to tell, but he thought Omi flushed. "I think he bought it with the inheritance from his parents. It's his pride and joy."

Yuki patted the roof of his car possessively. "I can understand that," he replied smugly.

Hiro frowned down at Shuuichi, who had passed out and was now snoring away in the passenger seat. "Wasn't he wearing another shirt over that one?" he asked. Omi's eyes widened.

"Oh! I took it off so he could move a little easier. He kept getting tangled in it. It's still on the floor in the bathroom."

"I'll get it," Hiro offered, and jogged back into the house.

He found the baseball jersey on the floor as Omi had said, and turned to go back outside. Just before he reached the half-open door, something made him pause and listen to what Yuki was saying to Omi. He didn't know why - normally it would never have occurred to him to eavesdrop - but something told him this conversation was important.

"...don't mind helping out," Omi was saying cheerfully. "I just hope you manage to sort things out."

Yuki sighed. "You seem like a decent kid. I hate to say this - but you do realize that Hiroshi is only interested in you because of your resemblance to Shuuichi?"

Hiro felt his heart stop in his chest - and then he got mad. How DARE that jerk say something like that? Omi would be crushed...

"Of course."

He stopped just short of charging outside to yell at Yuki, staring at the door blankly. Did Omi just say what Hiro thought he said?

"What do you mean, of course?" Yuki sounded as surprised as Hiro was.

"Do you think I haven't noticed how much I look like him? Hiro-kun and I met because he mistook me for Shuuichi-kun in a club."

Hiro hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. Omi thought he was only interested in him because of a chance resemblance to someone else - gods, that must hurt...

"Then why do you stay with him?" Yuki asked in exasperation.

"Because I'm falling in love with him," was Omi's simple answer. Hiro's eyes widened, and his breath came short. They'd never said those words to each other, skirting around them but never quite touching them. Hearing Omi say it sent a thrill through his heart like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Because I'm falling in love with him, and because if that were the only thing that Hiro-kun liked about me, we wouldn't still be together," Omi continued. "My personality is nothing like Shuuichi-kun's, and Hiro-kun isn't a shallow enough person to stay with someone just because of looks."

Hiro finally got his feet to move, and stepped through the door. "Omi..."

"Oh!" Omi gasped, startled, and spun to face him, blushing. "Hiro-kun, I... I didn't realize you were listening..."

Hiroshi saw the glint in Yuki's eyes. "You knew I was listening," he accused, puzzled. "You set that up, didn't you?"

Yuki shrugged and turned away, walking towards his car. "Consider it payback for the night you came to me to ask me to treat Shuuichi well. And you can take that to mean whatever you like." He slid into the driver's seat, started the car, and was gone.

Omi was still blushing furiously, staring down at his toes. Hiro walked up to him and put one finger under his chin, tilting his face up until he could look him in the eyes. "Baka," he murmured affectionately. "You should have told me."

"I was afraid you'd think I was pressuring you," Omi answered him truthfully. Hiro shook his head, and leaned down and gave him a soft kiss.

"I think I'm falling in love with you too, bishounen," he whispered softly. "So don't worry about it too much, okay?" He handed Omi his helmet, which he had retrieved at the same time as Shuuichi's shirt. "Much as I'd love you to stay, it's after one in the morning now, and I don't want to get you in trouble with your friends. Call you tomorrow after practice?"

Omi nodded, and leaned up for one last kiss before running to his bike. At the end of the driveway he turned and waved, and Hiro waved back, feeling truly content with his life for the first time in a long time.

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