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

A/N: Just something.

Rating: T for implications and content.


We All Bleed

A justifiable mistake, but an unjustifiable time to commit it. Flaws were found and broken and adored, twisted beyond recognition into something even more vile and disgusting, bubbling like an infected wound that was far more painful than amputation. But amputation it was -- amputation of feeling, of emotion that wasn't carnal. Amputation of any sense of affection or endearment. Amputation that lead to the prosthetic that was lust. Lust, instead of love. That almost came out poetic.

He thrust his door open with a violent kick, knowing exactly where to hit it so that he wouldn't have to use a key. So that his hands did not have to move away from the pliant flesh quivering beneath his touch, so that his lips did not have to break away from the supple ones they were attached to. The heat that roared through his body as he stumbled backwards, becoming encased in the darkness of his apartment, was both torturous and arousing. And though it was not often that he lost control like this ... now, he could not help himself.

He pulled other with him, bitter humor flooding his mind as they both stumbled into the thick, tense air, anger of no source tapping his mind as the other kicked the door shut in the same manner that he had opened it. But the anger was quickly abandoned in place of a moan he had to force back as the other arched forward, brushing their weight together for the first time.

His head was spinning, and everything was a little more fuzzy than it should be. He hadn't had much, but maybe that one drink had not been such a wonderful idea.

"You're so beautiful."

Or maybe it had. He didn't like the term beautiful, especially not murmured in the heat of lust, but their bodies were against each other again, and he forgot.

Forgot. Forgetting something? What? This had been done, so many times before. So many times ... forgetting. He was forgetting.

"Yuki."

And his eyes shot open, a hazy amber that was fighting hard to return to its sharp glare. Looking over the shoulder of the other man, now frozen against him, to lock with horrified, defeated eyes of loving lilac. Eyes that closed briefly, before disappearing all together as the lithe body of his lover disappeared from the arch of the door he had just abused.

"Shuichi." He had forgotten.

The other man, confused, pulled away.


Again, I may continue. But let me know what you thought, regardless. :)