Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.
A/N: Work on a long fic, and get one-shot ideas. Is that how that works?? Haha.
Rating: T for language and light dark thoughts. Slight OOC, too ...
"What's wrong with you, moron?"
In hindsight, Eiri knew he probably could have reworded the question, made it a little … softer, if he had bothered to be considerate. But consideration was something that was born out of, among other things, patience for the person it was directed towards. And as sad as it no doubt seemed to any observers, the famous novelist had very little patience when it came to the teen who shared his apartment. Especially when said teen was quiet.
His lover was currently standing a few mere inches away from the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony, arms wrapped around his jacketed, slim form, staring out at the sky with dazed violet eyes. The same position he had been in for the past fifteen minutes, ever since he had arrived home from the studio. Not even a whispered "hello" had left his lips, something common for when he had sang himself raw, and it was beginning to become an irritation. There was just something … wrong about a silent Shuichi Shindou, and it settled over Eiri like a dark shadow of emotions he would rather not deal with.
He stopped clicking on his laptop. "Brat," he growled dangerously, slightly smug when the other jumped and turned. Smugness that faded as quickly as the emotion on Shuichi's face as they stared at one another, before the singer turned back around.
"Do you think I'm insane, Yuki?" The quiet murmur interrupted anything that was about to escape Eiri's mouth, leaving him speechless for a moment as he took in the words.
"I'm happy sometimes, and the next second I'm sad. Or angry." Shuichi leaned forward, resting his forehead against the glass – Eiri bit his lip to keep from admonishing the act. "I snapped at Hiro today – I've never done that before. Suguru said … said he thinks I'm going insane."
"You don't usually listen to Fujisaki," the writer stated gruffly, lowering his eyes back to the screen as he restarted his typing. He didn't really have time for this shit.
"Mr. Sakano agreed," was the sighed, soft reply. "And Hiro ..."
Eiri's fingers froze again. "Nakano said you were insane?"
"He said he understood." Shuichi turned around again, not even bothering to try and get his lover's attention as he allowed his back to lean against the door instead. Eiri watched as he slid down until he was resting on the floor, frowning at the action as the cursor on his processor program blinked demandingly. He hadn't thought it would turn out like this.
He knew grief well – he considered the murderous monster to be one of his closest, few friends. He was well aware of the symptoms – the darkness that gnawed at your gut, tore at your mind until you couldn't remember your name or the fact that you were even on Earth. He had seen it slaughter weaker men, and his own dealings with it were constant and struggling as he tried to stay above the whirlpool. But Eiri had honestly thought that Shuichi, of all people, would be able to beat it. That his own energy of pure happiness and radiance would be enough to overcome the hovering demon.
But it wasn't everyday that one so carefree was faced with the death of a friend. Even if that friend was only someone the carefree person had known for a few weeks. A friend that had died so suddenly just two weeks ago. Eiri had trusted that the bond Shuichi had formed with the new secretary at NG hadn't been strong, and that was naïve on his part. This was Shuichi. He should have known better.
With a groan, he saved his document before setting the laptop off to the side, standing to join his lover on the floor.
"Sometimes," Shuichi sniffled as he moved closer. "Sometimes I think I hear her voice. Feel her standing next to me, maybe?" A low, loathing laugh. "Impossible. I know it is. But I can't … I can't…" Eyes the older man had come to adore stared up at him pleadingly as he stood over the singer. "I'm insane, Yuki."
"No, you're not." Eiri wasn't very good at the emotional aspect of relationships, which he bitterly reminded himself as he lowered himself beside the pink-haired teen. Shuichi pressed against him lightly, turning his head so that his chin could rest on his knees. Eiri hated that suffering look. "You're not insane, Shuichi," he stated again, firmer this time. "You're sad. Someone … someone you trusted to always be there for you, suddenly isn't. For the first time, someone you loved suddenly isn't in your life anymore, and you don't know how to deal with that." Shuichi nudged him harder, an angry noise escaping his throat.
"I'm going crazy!" He insisted, voice chocking slightly. Crying. More than the suffering look, Eiri Yuki hated the tears. Not the fake ones that visited several times a day – loud and obnoxious, but the silent ones the screamed in agony as they traveled down his lover's face. And though his limbs protested, Eiri moved his hand to rest on the back of the other male's neck, squeezing gently at the shudder. Leaning over, he pressed his own chin onto the familiar small shoulder, allowing his lips to brush soothingly over chilled skin.
"You're grieving. Properly," he murmured. "And that's okay, moron." More than okay.
And even thought it would probably lead him to miss another fucking deadline, Eiri was going to be calling Touma's office after Shuichi was in bed. A week off to grieve was perfectly acceptable therapy for the emotional teen.
"It hurts, Yuki," Shuichi muttered from his arms. His hand simply tightened its hold comfortingly.
And harsh, murderous words with a careless band was perfectly acceptable therapy for him.
Let me know what you're thinking? :)