Title: The Mastery of Words
Author: A.K.A. Anonymous
Pairings: Shuichi+Yuki
Warnings: Here some angst, there some angst, everywhere some angst, angst!
I should also warn that I haven't seen the last three episodes of Gravitation. *Sweatdrop* I'm not sure if it goes into Shuichi's past at all (I didn't touch on Eiri's 'cause I know I'm out of that loop), but I'm writing as if he had lost touch with his parents, badly too and a few other things. It gives me something to basis his darker personality on, think of it as AU, if you need to.
Standard Disclaimers (for all the good they do) Apply.
*********************************
The first time I met him I could see an emptiness in his eyes, like no darkness I'd ever seen before. It took my breath away to watch those golden eyes rake over me, glinting in smug disapproval as he tossed my lyrics over his shoulder without a thought. I despised him. I also despised myself, but that's nothing new.
I'm not much to look at, really. Puffy pink hair on a scrawny body that just couldn't seem to understand that it wasn't supposed to stop growing at sixteen. It's not my fault; blame it on my parents, if you can find them. Still, under the hard gaze of those harvest moon eyes, I felt even more foolish and awkward.
He looked so perfect. The lines of his suit, even with the shirt untucked and collar unbuttoned, flowed in elegant lines over his lean form. The dark color contrasted on the lamp lit pale skin, somehow bringing out the darker lashes that brushed his cheek when he closed his eyes to take a drag of the cigarette poised casually on his full lips.
My brain stopped working for several moments, taking in his powerful presence and not recognizing the words coming from his mouth until he had passed me by. Then I did what I did best in a stressful situation, I suppose.
I sat down in the middle of the path and whined like a child. Great first impression, right?
After that I got up and chased down my scrap of paper; it only took me three hours--damn fences--damn dogs--damn wind. I took that time alone to run the encounter in my head. Over and over and over. My thoughts ran away as fast as my paper, getting snagged on my bristling emotions and beaten around by the brutal torrents of my uncertainties. My heart and my new song were both in ruins by the time I got home.
I couldn't think of anything else until I faced him again. Less than twenty-four hours later I stood up and yelled at him, probably making a general nuisance of myself while dripping rainwater on his nice floors, and wound myself up like a spring. His presence affected in some many ways I could barely keep my head on straight. (That was even before I had the enlightening talk with Hiro that threw my confusion into a new light.)
But then I wrote. God, I wrote a storm! There was no chance of sleep that night, with my hands twitching back and forth between clenching into fists in anger and covering my face in shame. So I buried myself in words, just like I always do.
My music is a part of me. The words were not like the constant babbling drivel I know I'm known for, but well thought out and planned. Each word chosen, balanced, and judged with greatest care; they are pieces of my soul, after all. And having someone say they were bad was enough to throw my happy-go-lucky mask into the fire.
Had any of my friends seen me in those twilight hours they would have sworn I was possessed.
An angry Shindou Shuichi without that childish whine? Impossible. Shuichi spending hours in deep, silent concentration? Unheard of--he's just waiting for the perfect stupid thing to say at the worst possible time.
Only Hiroshi has seen some of my more--well, truer self, I suppose. I've known him longer than anyone, even the people who raised me, and he's a lot more perceptive than people think when they see his hair and hear he's in a band. It's really a shame, for both of us.
He knows about the time I went to college when I was seventeen. I didn't last long, but I went. I'm not a great student and my attitude wasn't well received among the staff and fellow students.
It's funny, but I can't help myself. From the moment people see me they underestimate me; I could see it in the eyes of strangers since I was old enough to understand what 'weak' and 'silly' really meant--childish and stupid, so I acted the part. I've acted it so long, I'm not so sure it's an act any more.
They don't know that I can fight. I had Hiro teach me in the breaks between practices when we were younger. I'm not that good, my body doesn't possess the muscles or frame needed to fight without expending much more energy than that of those like Hiro; taller, stronger, faster. I make do, though, and my greatest strength has become surprise. No one expects a scrawny airhead to fight back.
Yeah, maybe I'm as stupid as everyone thinks. Maybe I'm the idiot that he says I am, too. Perhaps I have no talent, like he said. But I have the passion; no one can deny me that. Ever since I saw Nittle Grasper, watched Sakano pour his soul into the microphone and share it like life giving water to the crowds that screamed his name.
It's not that I wanted to be famous, just like him. Vibrant but respected. Outgoing but accepted. Confident, happy, loved. I wanted that, who wouldn't?
I worked hard, struggled for every success, and finally I had the likely beginnings of that desire. And then a cold spirited man, who had come from the deepest shadows of the night and disappeared back into them like the demon he pretended to be, tried to defeat me with words.
He didn't win, though. His quick stab of condescendence wounded me, but I claimed a victory in the end. Eventually.
It was his eyes that gave me the advantage. The second time I met him, yes I almost got myself killed, but it was that night when I finally saw into those indifferent windows and saw something. Something that made my heart clench in my chest, something that drew me to him after that...time and again, even if it tore my invisible wounds deeper.
His eyes weren't empty; they were broken. They no longer saw the world without imagining pain and flaws in everything. Like the story of the little boy who had a piece of bewitched glass in his heart, he saw nothing but ugliness and felt nothing but the minimum of emotions; but even those few feelings were twisted in the curse. (1)
I have no *idea* what I was thinking, barging into his life like I did, but I couldn't stand that he was alone like that. I found out the hard way that there was no one in his life that could weaken his armor enough to help him. Not even his sister, who cared enough to threaten my career with her husband's power and wealth to get him to speak with their father. I was just a stranger at the time, but she pushed me into his arms like I was supposed to work a miracle.
The only miracle was that he didn't bodily throw me out...that time. Even then--when I had only known him a few hours in all--he could hurt me more than anyone had in years.
Because I opened myself to him more than I had to anyone in years. I spoke from my heart, briefly, but with no trace of that whine and every scrap of strength I could. I think that was when I lost my heart...and it slipped under that armor of his to stay.
So, in a way, I was still protected. Through all the pain of the weeks to come--the ups and downs and brutality that I faced to become a pro, the disappointments and strange circumstances, the most important thing was that he still looked at me with those eyes.
Under those sunshine-colored icicles I grew stronger. I felt more passion in my life and I used it in my songs. I became a master of words, and I used them in my love for him and to share my soul with the world.
***************************************
(1)--I'm a sucker for fairytales. 'The Snow Queen' is the story where a young boy had a piece of a cursed mirror stuck in his heart, only the love of his friend saved him from the icy palace of the Snow Queen.
Please remember to review and tell me if I've messed something up...besides Shuichi's entire perspective.
Author: A.K.A. Anonymous
Pairings: Shuichi+Yuki
Warnings: Here some angst, there some angst, everywhere some angst, angst!
I should also warn that I haven't seen the last three episodes of Gravitation. *Sweatdrop* I'm not sure if it goes into Shuichi's past at all (I didn't touch on Eiri's 'cause I know I'm out of that loop), but I'm writing as if he had lost touch with his parents, badly too and a few other things. It gives me something to basis his darker personality on, think of it as AU, if you need to.
Standard Disclaimers (for all the good they do) Apply.
*********************************
The first time I met him I could see an emptiness in his eyes, like no darkness I'd ever seen before. It took my breath away to watch those golden eyes rake over me, glinting in smug disapproval as he tossed my lyrics over his shoulder without a thought. I despised him. I also despised myself, but that's nothing new.
I'm not much to look at, really. Puffy pink hair on a scrawny body that just couldn't seem to understand that it wasn't supposed to stop growing at sixteen. It's not my fault; blame it on my parents, if you can find them. Still, under the hard gaze of those harvest moon eyes, I felt even more foolish and awkward.
He looked so perfect. The lines of his suit, even with the shirt untucked and collar unbuttoned, flowed in elegant lines over his lean form. The dark color contrasted on the lamp lit pale skin, somehow bringing out the darker lashes that brushed his cheek when he closed his eyes to take a drag of the cigarette poised casually on his full lips.
My brain stopped working for several moments, taking in his powerful presence and not recognizing the words coming from his mouth until he had passed me by. Then I did what I did best in a stressful situation, I suppose.
I sat down in the middle of the path and whined like a child. Great first impression, right?
After that I got up and chased down my scrap of paper; it only took me three hours--damn fences--damn dogs--damn wind. I took that time alone to run the encounter in my head. Over and over and over. My thoughts ran away as fast as my paper, getting snagged on my bristling emotions and beaten around by the brutal torrents of my uncertainties. My heart and my new song were both in ruins by the time I got home.
I couldn't think of anything else until I faced him again. Less than twenty-four hours later I stood up and yelled at him, probably making a general nuisance of myself while dripping rainwater on his nice floors, and wound myself up like a spring. His presence affected in some many ways I could barely keep my head on straight. (That was even before I had the enlightening talk with Hiro that threw my confusion into a new light.)
But then I wrote. God, I wrote a storm! There was no chance of sleep that night, with my hands twitching back and forth between clenching into fists in anger and covering my face in shame. So I buried myself in words, just like I always do.
My music is a part of me. The words were not like the constant babbling drivel I know I'm known for, but well thought out and planned. Each word chosen, balanced, and judged with greatest care; they are pieces of my soul, after all. And having someone say they were bad was enough to throw my happy-go-lucky mask into the fire.
Had any of my friends seen me in those twilight hours they would have sworn I was possessed.
An angry Shindou Shuichi without that childish whine? Impossible. Shuichi spending hours in deep, silent concentration? Unheard of--he's just waiting for the perfect stupid thing to say at the worst possible time.
Only Hiroshi has seen some of my more--well, truer self, I suppose. I've known him longer than anyone, even the people who raised me, and he's a lot more perceptive than people think when they see his hair and hear he's in a band. It's really a shame, for both of us.
He knows about the time I went to college when I was seventeen. I didn't last long, but I went. I'm not a great student and my attitude wasn't well received among the staff and fellow students.
It's funny, but I can't help myself. From the moment people see me they underestimate me; I could see it in the eyes of strangers since I was old enough to understand what 'weak' and 'silly' really meant--childish and stupid, so I acted the part. I've acted it so long, I'm not so sure it's an act any more.
They don't know that I can fight. I had Hiro teach me in the breaks between practices when we were younger. I'm not that good, my body doesn't possess the muscles or frame needed to fight without expending much more energy than that of those like Hiro; taller, stronger, faster. I make do, though, and my greatest strength has become surprise. No one expects a scrawny airhead to fight back.
Yeah, maybe I'm as stupid as everyone thinks. Maybe I'm the idiot that he says I am, too. Perhaps I have no talent, like he said. But I have the passion; no one can deny me that. Ever since I saw Nittle Grasper, watched Sakano pour his soul into the microphone and share it like life giving water to the crowds that screamed his name.
It's not that I wanted to be famous, just like him. Vibrant but respected. Outgoing but accepted. Confident, happy, loved. I wanted that, who wouldn't?
I worked hard, struggled for every success, and finally I had the likely beginnings of that desire. And then a cold spirited man, who had come from the deepest shadows of the night and disappeared back into them like the demon he pretended to be, tried to defeat me with words.
He didn't win, though. His quick stab of condescendence wounded me, but I claimed a victory in the end. Eventually.
It was his eyes that gave me the advantage. The second time I met him, yes I almost got myself killed, but it was that night when I finally saw into those indifferent windows and saw something. Something that made my heart clench in my chest, something that drew me to him after that...time and again, even if it tore my invisible wounds deeper.
His eyes weren't empty; they were broken. They no longer saw the world without imagining pain and flaws in everything. Like the story of the little boy who had a piece of bewitched glass in his heart, he saw nothing but ugliness and felt nothing but the minimum of emotions; but even those few feelings were twisted in the curse. (1)
I have no *idea* what I was thinking, barging into his life like I did, but I couldn't stand that he was alone like that. I found out the hard way that there was no one in his life that could weaken his armor enough to help him. Not even his sister, who cared enough to threaten my career with her husband's power and wealth to get him to speak with their father. I was just a stranger at the time, but she pushed me into his arms like I was supposed to work a miracle.
The only miracle was that he didn't bodily throw me out...that time. Even then--when I had only known him a few hours in all--he could hurt me more than anyone had in years.
Because I opened myself to him more than I had to anyone in years. I spoke from my heart, briefly, but with no trace of that whine and every scrap of strength I could. I think that was when I lost my heart...and it slipped under that armor of his to stay.
So, in a way, I was still protected. Through all the pain of the weeks to come--the ups and downs and brutality that I faced to become a pro, the disappointments and strange circumstances, the most important thing was that he still looked at me with those eyes.
Under those sunshine-colored icicles I grew stronger. I felt more passion in my life and I used it in my songs. I became a master of words, and I used them in my love for him and to share my soul with the world.
***************************************
(1)--I'm a sucker for fairytales. 'The Snow Queen' is the story where a young boy had a piece of a cursed mirror stuck in his heart, only the love of his friend saved him from the icy palace of the Snow Queen.
Please remember to review and tell me if I've messed something up...besides Shuichi's entire perspective.