Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.
Rated T: For language.
I don't know what keeps you around. God knows I'm not the best significant other to have -- Hell, I'm not even a good friend. I treat you like shit and I throw you out of the apartment every other week. I tell you I don't give a damn about your concerts and that your lyrics are crap and that your band is only doing well because the rest of the Japanese population's heads are just as empty as yours. You call me mean and a jerk and insensitive and all those other empty insults that any child can come up with and surpass.
I try my damndest to push you away, to make you leave. I've even left, for all the good it's done. Which it hasn't.
But despite that, you still hang around.
There are times when we're laying in bed, late at night, and I can feel my damn guard dropping. You're curled up against me, breathing shallow and even, smelling of cotton candy and roses. I still remember the taste of your skin on my tongue from earlier, can feel your weight. Your vows still ringing loudly in my ears, as though your taunting me -- daring me to say them back. And I almost do, when you're sleeping. I almost say them, but I don't.
I'm not into the sentimental stuff, but that's okay, because this isn't sentimental. It's the truth. There's something different about you, Shindou Shuichi. Like you're not even human. I'd be stupid to compare you to an Angel, because there's no way an Angel would waste time on me. But you're close, I guess.
It's going to hurt when you finally leave. I'll deserve it, I always have. But it's going to hurt.
Please let me know what you're thinking. I'm debating on continuation. One-shot for now. :)