Authors Note : Hi! This is my first fanfiction I've written, and it was done a number of years ago... I usually write original stories rather thaan fanfictions, so any con crit you have to offer would be greatly appreciated! :) Enjoy!

Shuichi reached up to get a glass from the he brought his arm back down, a sudden burst of pain erupted in his lungs like a firework. He staggered back a step and clutched his chest, desperately trying to draw breath without causing himself any further pain. His vision swam as the throbbing climaxed, his grip loosened on the glass, which sent it tumbling down to shatter loudly on the cold tiles.

"Shuichi!" Yuki came running into the kitchen from his study, "are you ok?"

He saw Shuichi standing in the midst of glittering shards of glass, his eyes glazed, gasping for breath.

"Don't move, ok? I'll come to get you,"

Carefully avoiding the glass, Yuki made his way over to him and picked his weakened body up, wrapping Shuichi's legs around his waist. He cautiously found a glass free way out of the kitchen and lay his lover down on the sofa, covering him with the blanket he slept under when Yuki threw him out of the bedroom.

"Yuki, I-I'm sorry about the glass," Shuichi wheezed as the pain subsided enough for him to be able to speak. Yuki smiled weakly.

"Baka, I'm more worried about you than the glass, does it still hurt?"

Shuichi looked into the eyes of the older man beside him, seeing the deep love and concern that lay within their golden irises. His lungs still hurt every time he drew breath, but he lied so that this person at least wouldn't worry about him. He forced himself to give a trembling smile.

"I'm fine, really."

He saw a flash of disbelief in Yuki's handsome features, which then morphed into anger.

"Will you stop lying to me? I can see it in your face that this is hurting you! When are you going to stop this charade and admit that you can't do everything anymore, you won't let anyone help you. You've been carrying on for three months since the doctor told you to just rest, and your family aren't the only ones getting suspicious anymore. I'm calling Tohma, telling him everything and that you're not going into work."

As Yuki got up to fetch the phone, he felt a sudden vicelike grip on his wrist. He turned back round and saw Shuichi sitting straight up on the sofa, a desperate expression on his face.

"Don't, please I-"

His voice suddenly cut out and the veins on his neck protruded with the effort he had to use to draw breath. Yuki rushed back to his side and pulled back Shuichi's shoulders to open his lungs as much as possible. When Shuichi regained control of his body, he sat shuddering before managing to complete his sentences.

"Don't, I'll, I'll tell them tomorrow, myself, at work." As he saw Yuki about to argue he added, "It's what I want to do. My decision. Please?"

Yuki looked back into his lover's eyes and held his gaze before sighing.

Thinking back, he remembered the old Shuichi: loud, annoying and full of energy. There wasn't a time when he stopped moving around, usually bouncing off the walls on one of his sugar highs. He was always singing or humming or screeching Yuki's name, which could become extremely annoying at times. His eyes, hair and child-like smile shone with life and radiated joy, making anyone in the vicinity feel light-hearted and cheerful. Not even Yuki's constant streams of insults could damage his good moods.

But then he reflected on the Shuichi from the past few months. His illness was slowly sapping his strength and energy. A reserved, quiet individual replaced the once hyperactive young man. He spaced himself from others and had to rest constantly between activities. Yuki often found him in the bedroom or bathroom, tears running down his drawn face; broken by the stress and pain he suffered.

The quality of his singing voice was being affected as well because he could no longer keep enough air in his lungs to hold notes. This had naturally led to his band mates becoming suspicious, meaning Shuichi had to put in more effort every day at work to maintain an acceptable standard. He came home more exhausted each time and now spent most of the time he had at home sleeping, even neglecting meals.

Scanning his eyes over the features of Shuichi's body, Yuki could see that his appearance had deteriorated just as fast as his personality or abilities. The healthy shine was gone from his hair and it had become thin and straw like. His eyes no longer held their youth or raw energy. Instead they were sunken and ringed with dark circles, the eyes of someone who was weary of life and suffering. Shuichi's muscles had started to weaken; his once well-shaped and toned body was now fragile and pale like porcelain, his ribs and spine stuck out for all to see.

It tortured Yuki day and night to know that it was his bad habits that were slowly killing his lover, his most precious possession.

"Alright, I'll let you tell them yourself. But I'm giving you a ride to work tomorrow, so I can be sure you get there. You look like death on legs."

Shuichi nodded and lay down with his head in Yuki's lap. He hadn't the strength to walk to the bedroom.

Staring down at the weary, angelic face of his lover as he slept, Yuki once again wondered how he would cope when he eventually lost him, but couldn't comprehend how empty his life would be.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Yuki asked the next day. Shuichi ran his hand lovingly up the thigh of his companion, a resigned, weary expression passing across his face again.

"I'll be fine. See you later."

With that he leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on the blonde's lips. Shuichi climbed out of the car slowly and walked into the NG studio without looking back; he was well aware of Yuki's eyes boring into the back of his head.

Shuichi walked over to the lifts and groaned as he saw the out of order sign. He would have to take the stairs, and he didn't feel in any condition to walk up to their recording studio. Turning to the stairwell on his right, he started the ascent.

At the top of the stairs, Shuichi stood panting, trying to get his breath before entering the room. Usually he would have shot up the stairs at ten times the speed he had gone without needing to catch his breath. In his weakened state, it felt like he had just ran a marathon. His chest was still a little tight when he forced himself to show a halfhearted smile and entered the room.

"Good morning everyone!" he chirped. He staggered a bit as he walked through the door but didn't catch the concerned look that Hiro and Suguru exchanged.

"Listen Shuichi, we were just wondering if you've been feeling well these past few wee-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Shuichi replied far too quickly for Hiro to not get suspicious. "Now, onto recording! We need to get this CD finished!"

Hiro exchanged another worried glance with Suguru before following Shuichi, picking up his guitar on the way.

Hiro, Suguru and K sat outside the recording booth listening to Shuichi singing Rage Beat, the same perplexed expression on each of their faces.

"Now I definitely know there's something wrong." K muttered. Hiro frowned.

"How?"

"Shuichi's singing is usually perfect: no note is sung off key and he never misses a cue. So far in recording today he's missed the cue for Spicy Marmalade and he just sang a note at a completely wrong key."

Hiro looked back at Shuichi in the recording booth and thought about the conclusion that K had just come up with. He agreed that Shuichi had been acting differently lately, that he hadn't been himself. But he felt confident about the fact that Shuichi would have told him, his best friend, if something were seriously wrong with him. Though it was odd, because usually Shuichi moaned about every little ailment that he had the misfortune to come across.

The eyes of Shuichi's fellow band mates and manager widened in shock as they saw Shuichi suddenly stop singing, an expression of extreme pain upon his face. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious, and lay still. Springing to their feet, they crowded into the recording studio and carried him out, laid him on a sofa, and waited for him to wake up.

When Shuichi woke up, he saw all his band mates, K and Tohma sat around the sofa he was lying on. His eyes wandered from one face to another. Hurt, confused, angry, worried and sympathetic expressions stared wistfully back at him.

"I… What's wrong is… Well, what I meant to say was…" Shuichi stutters. He doesn't look at their faces again; he knows they all want an answer, an explanation to his recent condition. "I meant to tell you. I just left it slightly longer than I should have."

He hears movement to his left, then Hiro is kneeling in front of him, eyes moist and pleading. "What is wrong with you Shuichi?" his voice isn't demanding, just genuinely confused, caring. "Couldn't you have at least told me you weren't well? Couldn't you have told me what's wrong?"

Shuichi looks up from his clasped hands, unsure of what to do, what to say. He knows now he shouldn't have kept it secret; Hiro at least should have been one of the first to know.

A sharp metallic click sounds near his right ear. Shuichi looks up, only to stare down the barrel of K's gun. It's trembling; in fact K's whole arm is trembling. His face is blank, expressionless and his smooth character is fraying at the seams as he towers over Shuichi, pointing the gun between the young singer's eyes, point blank.

"Tell us what's wrong Shuichi. Now." He's trying to sound stern, commanding, in control of the situation. But this is out of his comfort zone, and his voice wavers ever so slightly. Shuichi chuckles dryly, which soon turns into a violent coughing fit.

"Shoot me then, K. You won't be taking much off my life, the time I've got left."

K lowers the gun and sinks slowly into a nearby chair. Silence descends on the room. No sound except Suguru's foot tapping nervously on the floor and Shuichi's ragged breathing. Pulling his legs up to his chest, Shuichi rests his pounding head on his knees. In a nearly inaudible whisper, Shuichi confesses, "I have lung cancer."

Nothing happens for a couple of minutes. Suguru's foot keeps tapping; Shuichi's breaths keep on counting down.

"We should split up the band, feed the papers a story so you won't be bothered, then-"

"No." Shuichi's voice is strong despite his condition as he interrupts Hiro. "I don't want this to affect the band."

"But how will you cope, Shuichi? If you're as bad as you're making out, which is better than you look, how can you keep working like this?" Hiro's voice started off as a whisper, but by the end his voice is raised due to his frustration.

"I'll work harder, longer if I have to until it's right. Until it's as good as it ever was. The lyrics can be altered to make it easier, and if it still doesn't sound right, we have the equipment to alter the music, make it sound like it always has done. I want to go on as long as I can."

Hiro looks as if he's going to talk again, getting ready to scold Shuichi for suggesting such an absurd idea, but Tohma, who's been sitting, listening to what was happening, interrupts him.

"I see no reason why Bad Luck can't carry on as it is. If it is Suichi's wish to continue singing as long as possible, why split up the band when it's against everyone's best interest?" He turned to face Shuichi.

"If you're sure this is what you want, the band will not be affected. But if you feel you aren't able to do the concert in a month's time, it will be cancelled."

The sound of the thousand strong crowds filtered through the doors to the backstage dressing rooms. Chants of 'Bad Luck, we love you!' and 'Shuichi, Shuichi!' accompanied screams of glee as Suguru walked on stage to check the setup of his keyboards.

Shuichi slipped his red leather jacket on over his vest top, and walked through into the wings near the stage. Hiro sauntered up beside him, and hooked an arm round the smaller mans shoulders.

"No need to fret, Shuichi. You'll be fine," he said soothingly. Shuichi smiled weakly up at him.

"You don't have to worry about me, Hiro, I'll be fine." Hiro looked sceptically down at his friend's gaunt face and dull eyes. The makeup artists had done their best to put the colour back into his sallow skin, but up close, it was far from normal.

"Sure. Just remember though, all you have to do this time is mime convincingly, okay?"

Shuichi frowned slightly, annoyed, not with Hiro, but with himself for having deteriorated to the point where he couldn't sing at all now. He smoothed his expression, and then smiled.

"Gotcha. Mime. No singing."

Satisfied, Hiro grinned, patting his friend gently on the back. He waltzed on stage, waving as another fanfare of shouts, screams and wolf whistles erupted from the clique of Hiro fans.

Readying himself, Shuichi started to walk onstage, trying not to reveal how terrible he felt. He waited patiently as Suguru introduced their first song, and then waved with false enthusiasm as the crowd's attention turned to him. Hearing the music start, he launched into the first song, hoping that his miming wasn't that noticeable.

"Transparency dyes the night sky, and

I walk alone on the road that always leads home."

Head spinning, Shuichi struggled to concentrate on the words he was miming, and could tell that it wasn't that convincing any more. The crowds were less enthusiastic. He was more or less putting all of his weight onto the microphone stand now to stop himself from toppling. Frustrated that he was disappointing, he tried to put more effort into the last verse of the song, and his head span. He hadn't even managed half of the programme yet.

"I'm tangled up in something; I'm getting a little sick of myself –

Tangled up in the feelings to convey to those days that have been left behind...

The heart I've forgotten somewhere is starting to hurt a little."

His eyes scanned the crowd, and at the back, he could make out the sultry silhouette of his lover, and he managed a small grin as he mimed the last of the song.

"I keep searching for you in a night lit by the stars that are bound to that ti-"

His eyes widened, as sharp needles of pain lanced through his chest. His vision swam, and the last things he noticed as he slowly slid to the floor and his word faded to black, was Yuki charging through the crowd and the screeches of horror from the crowd and his band mates.

Yuki slumped in the seat by the hospital bed. His bloodshot eyes peered worriedly at the pallid face of his unconscious lover. Tears trailed silently down his cheeks, and he held Shuichi's unresponsive hand in a loose grip. The rhythmical beeping of the heart monitor across the room was the only sound that he could hear, along with the rattling breaths Shuichi drew sporadically. Feeling a faint twitch in Shuichi's hand, he looked up at his face.

Shuichi's eyes were slitted open, and the ghost of a smile graced his lips. He mouthed the word 'sorry', and a single tear trailed down his face. His eyes glazed over, and as his strength failed him, the grip he'd managed to get on Yuki's hand fell away. The monitor blipped. Then stopped.