Kagi's notes: Whee...me is writing Gravi fic, look out! This was inspired by that line from Vol.5 of the manga (which actually doesn't appear until the last paragraph). Or rather, by the scene in which it occurs, after Eiri comes to see Shuichi when he's sick. And by my annoyance with a comment in a fic I read that Shu doesn't really understand him... . That is the whole point, to my way of thinking, but anyway.

Um, warnings...sap maybe, shounen-ai (duh—if you don't know what that is what are you doing in the Gravi section? but in case you don't, it's guy/guy romantic relationships), angst (again, duh), swearing, abstractness. Very abstractness. Seemed to fit with the nightmare setting though. And I just like writing that way... More or less present tense, not sure how well I pulled that off.

Set sometime fairly soon after episode 13 of the anime. Eiri POV—can't write Shuichi to save me life, meh...Eiri's far too much like me. ;;

Thank you to bakayaro onna for suggestions on editing. (edited 10-19-05)

And I don't own these characters. That's a good thing, really. Just trust me on that. ;

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Night Terrors

Fear. Helpless fury. Desperation and determination.

...no! Stop hurting him! Don't you dare..don't you dare hurt him again. I won't forgive you!

Don't you dare—make him like me...I will never forgive you for that...never forgive—myself, it's my fault...

...stop...I'll kill you! If you hurt him--I'll kill you...

Gasp. Shuddering wakefulness. A blind, desperate reaching hand, finding familiar warmth. Still here. Still safe.

A deep breath as the tidal wave of emotions starts to recede. Shaking yet with the lingering echoes of rage and terror. Twin reactions, no telling which is the stronger, both equally demanding of instant action—unnecessary action, so the tension slowly fades, leaving behind cold sweat. The outstretched hand trembles, and the sleeper stirs beneath it.

A soft murmur from behind closed eyes. "Nn...y'kay?"

Damn it. Didn't mean to wake him. Just...a nightmare. That's all. Soothing murmur in response, hope he doesn't push it. Hope he's too tired to notice the lingering tightness in the voice, the hand on his shoulder. "Hn...fine."

Contented sigh turns into a light snore as he relaxes back into sleep, trusting.

Silence of held breath for a moment longer, then a long quiet sigh, releasing the last of the tension.

Gods, when did the focus of the nightmares change so drastically? Rather than the horrors of the past, now they feature more recent pain, and terrors of the future. A wry grimace in the dark reveals mixed feelings about this state of affairs. Not that the return of the old nightmares would be preferable—never that. Highly disconcerting, nevertheless, to be so forcibly reminded of just how far under the skin this young man has been allowed to get.

After swearing never to let anyone that close again. Close enough to hurt like that. To never need anyone like that again. Lov—caring about someone only gives them the power to hurt you. Gives you the power to hurt them. Can't—shouldn't risk it. And yet, this one...this hyper, irritating cheerful brat with those enormous eyes, shining with violet fire. That huge, brilliant smile. So goddamn annoying. So damn cute--too damn cute and sexy for his own good. Irritating as hell, yes. Loud, obnoxious...but such a sweet, loving heart. Not a kid, really, but it gets on his nerves, calling him brat. Safer to call him that, keep the distance, although that affectionate tone of voice keeps slipping out to ruin the effect, more and more often. Shit.

Again a hand reaches out, drifting gently over bright hair, soft strands slipping through the fingers. The sleeper shifts, unconsciously following, leaning into the touch. A faint smile touches the face of the watcher, the fingers now tracing the firm jawline, brushing lightly over the smooth cheek, then coming to rest, feather light, on the half open lips.

A sigh, warm breath gusting past the hovering fingertips. "...na, lover..."

The soft mutter causing a moment's alarm, before a close look assures that the angel still sleeps. A barely audible snort of self-mocking laughter. ...Fallen angel, maybe. Dreaming, most likely, vocal as ever even in his sleep.

"...love you...always, I love you..."

Amber eyes widen in shock as the watcher freezes, motionless. I love you. Always. Not that the words haven't been said before...but it will be a long, long time before being that central to someone else's feelings, someone else's thoughts, feels normal. Feels comfortable, right. No, it's still strange...still not used to it. May never get used to it.

Being the center of someone's life, really. Now, truly...who's the center of whose life, here? But this one has proved time and again that the man he has chosen is every bit as important to him as his music. And he lives and breathes for his music.

No, truly, more important than the music—idiot, he nearly threw his career away, just to be there when he was needed. The watcher knows this smudged angel is the only reason he's alive right now. As cold and seemingly heartless as he was, as hard a time as he had—still has, the words he still can't say. Silence and cynicism is too deeply ingrained a habit. Too much of a way of life. The old reactions, old defenses, die hard. In spite of all that, this one refuses to let himself be pushed away.

Rejected over and over, kicked out and pushed aside, ignored, put down, rarely given a kind word, but somehow, someway he sees right through all the walls, all the defenses. All the lies.

I don't love you, brat. I don't want you here. You're too loud...shut up, I'm tired of listening to you.

Go away, get out...get out of my life...

...Stupid, idiot...go...I don't want you...

And again and again, he comes right back, when he knows it will only happen again. Whenever he gets too close the defenses kick in, the wall goes up, pushing him away, but he still comes back. Because somehow he understands what is really being said, somehow he knows what is meant. Really understands, when there is no way that he should.

I want to be with you, so much...I don't want to chase you away. I just don't ever...want to hurt you...

I have to make you leave, have to send you away, because I know...that's all I ever do.

I betray the ones I love. And I do...love you...

Can't say it, but showing it becomes a little easier with time. Slowly, so slowly...can he tell at all? That the snapping isn't as harsh, as immediate, the shove not as hard, the ignoring silence not as complete. Pushing him away isn't as easy, as convincing as it used to be, but still—has to hurt, even though he never says anything. Even though he always smiles. God, what beautiful smile. Blazing with innocent enjoyment of life, even now. So hard though, so hard to believe that this can be real...to believe in this, in us. To stop the wall from going up, the emotional shutdown, now when it's no longer needed. Is it? No longer needed...just need him.

A hand drops once again to rest comfortably on the shoulder of the sleeping angel. Closer then, the sleeping face turns and burrows into warmth. An arm is loosely tucked around him, careful not to wake him. A sleepy hand reaches up to twine in golden hair. Feels good...this—this feels right. Selfish, to keep him here, to hold him, he'd be better off somewhere else, surely. Touching him so lovingly...can't help it, can't let him go. Because—he understands. Knows it all, knows all the pain, all the past, all the fear and shame, knows how hard it is to reach out past the scars of yesterday...but he stays.

Never understood him...why he wants to be here, why he cares. Where all this affection comes from. Why he would love such a cold, broken, angry man. Why nothing is ever enough to push him away for good. Nothing, not even harsh words and cold treatment deters him, stops him from coming back. Just being here, he said, is all he wants. "You give me what I want, just by staying beside me." Really should put that in a novel someday.

A kiss drops lightly, briefly, on bright silken hair.

Still don't understand him.