Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.

A/N: Just something that came to me while I was writing Nanashi.

Rating: K, for once. No angst, either. Lucky you. :)


Sacred

Shuichi had never actually stopped to watch him write before.

Sure, he had seen Yuki writing – had long since memorized every pull and frown of his lover's face as the breathtaking amber eyes stayed focused on the screen. He knew which noises meant conquest over a chapter, and which ones warned of approaching Writer's Block. The snappy clicking of keyboard letters often haunted his ears long after Yuki had abandoned the laptop, more times than not lulling him to sleep. He had seen Yuki writing millions of times, and knew each moment by heart.

But he had never watched him.

The singer had come in quietly tonight, careful to slip off his shoes in the hall so as not to clunk them inside and alert the novelist to his presence. Shuichi jumped at any chance to surprise Yuki, reveling in the ten seconds of shock that would form on the blonde's face before he was kicked out of the study. Any opportunity to see an expression on the other man's face was worth any sort of punishment, and as long as he wasn't thrown out of the apartment, then Shuichi considered it fair trade. The teenager had had every intention of sneaking into the study, come up behind his lover, and pounce on him before Yuki could note the change in silent atmosphere. He was very good at stealthy infiltration, and had done that particular routine several times before. But this time he had stopped at the doorway, taking in the scene with large, disbelieving violet eyes.

"And so she turned to him, a slight smile on her face, and allowed her fingers to graze his chin. "Don't, Takashi," she whispered in a mournful tone. "Don't do that." "How can I not?" He replied, lowering his head. "When all I want is to be with you?"."

The words were whispered and disjointed, but they flew from Yuki's lips like a soft prayer, with so much intensity that a shiver poured down Shuichi's spine just to hear it. His lover was not hunched over his laptop with a snarl, muttering curses at his publishers as he struggled to complete the epilogue before the deadline. Instead, he sat leaned against the back of his chair, legs tucked beneath him, a small, thoughtful smile on his face. His keys did not crunch beneath the merciless pounding of his fingers tonight, instead singing a gentle lullaby with each word typed, as though they were part of something miraculous. Amazing.

'His fingers move like Suguru's,' the teen noted, awed as he watched the long, pale fingers moving gracefully over the keyboard. 'He's … he's not writing. He's making … music.'

"The wind was cold as it howled, but it was oddly comforting to their yearning skin. "Maybe." Mai was thoughtful. "Maybe, we can have a happy ending. Just this once."."

He watched, and noticed the glittering glare over the normally vicious amber. There were tears in Yuki's eyes.

Slowly, carefully, Shuichi pulled himself from the doorway, inching the door shut just until it was at the latch, unwilling to risk breaking the moment with a lock. With a soft, beaming smile in place, the rose-haired vocalist of Bad Luck silently padded his way towards the bedroom, content with breaking his routine, if only for tonight. He refused to break such a tender moment.

'Good night, Yuki.'


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