Hi there! Though I've been reading stories on FF for a long time, I've decided to finally take a whack at writing one myself, instead of just my usual proses (I write SO many proses). I've actually had this sitting in the back of an old notebook for over a year, so I figured I might as well try to fix it up and post it. Obviously I would appreciate some sort of feedback, because I barely know what I'm doing when it comes to fanfictions and all critiques (good or bad) are excepted. ^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters. So don't sue me. Seriously.

Summary: Shuichi and Yuki's relationship is on the rocks. After a sudden separation, a traumatizing disaster strikes all the Gravi. Characters and relationships are revamped as they all struggle to recover from the edge of death. Eventual ShuxYuki and a variety of other pairings.

Shuichi slowly walked home, letting his feet scrape lazily against the pavement of the desolate sidewalk. That commute from NG Studios was a bit long, but really, not nearly long enough.

The sky was a nighttime darkness, yet, there was a halo of light above the city, from all the late night stores and other lit areas.

Shuichi inhaled deeply and looked up and around him. There was basically nobody on the streets of Tokyo except for him and the occasional pedestrian or stray car. So quiet, so calm. Really, why did the walk home have to be so short? To Yuki's home, that is. As much as Shuichi loved him, the relationship had actually started to strain him more then the usual depression, he really felt it this time. And for the first time in their two year romance, he was doubting the two of them as a couple, maybe even regretting having spent so much time on somebody who was no longer interested. Or was Yuki ever really interested? Shuichi took a deep breath of the cool air, it was refreshing. Maybe Yuki was interested. He had to be. The man just wasn't good with spoken words, but on occasion, he had most certainly proved it. Right?....Right?

Almost there. He could see a patch of the apartment from the top of the hill. He started his descent. Going slow on a slope like that made his knees bend slightly and throb. He gave in and walked a little faster.

It seemed that lately, Shuichi and Yuki were fighting more then ever. It had become nightly, vicious attacks on each other. It was mostly because Yuki was so demanding of quiet, but Shuichi had too, been doing things that would purposely rock the boat. He couldn't help it. He didn't understand himself when he did it, but he did. And that lack of justification worried him.

There were many, many things wrong with their relationship from the start, but over time, everybody had gotten used to the obvious. There were new conflicts, more hurtful ones.

For one, Yuki still held the right to kick Shuichi out when he felt like it. After over 720 days, Shuichi still could not use his name in a possessive form when speaking of the home, it still solely belonged the novelist.

To put it simply, Yuki just wanted space and Shuichi was sick of being ignored. He had spent so many nights in front of the TV, struggling over lyrics. He couldn't even go give his lover a hug when he got home from work.

If anything, this matured Shuichi. He had found the restraint to not burst into tears at anything. It was an adaptation, evolved as a survival technique from the aggravated beast down the hall. He hated it. He really did, but he loved Yuki. Though, he knew that love could not keep him in that apartment forever.

At least they were still having sex. Well, more like a good hour of penetration whenever Yuki got bored with his work or flat-out horny. There were no sweet nothings, loving touches, or even cuddling. A rip-roaring bang and then back to work.

Shuichi had become so envious of those deadlines that Yuki devoted his life to meeting.

Still, as he took the elevator, walked down the hall and slowly entered the apartment, he felt that tinge of worry in the core of his nerves. There was yet another fight brewing. There always was.

That wouldn't stop him tonight, though. He kicked off his shoes, went to the kitchen, and put a pot of water on the stove. Macaroni would have to do for tonight, it was too late to make anything else.

Shuichi dropped his bag on the counter and turned away to lean his back against it. He sighed unhappily and let his head fall back, banging slightly against the handle of the cabinet. He could hear the water on the stove go to a boil, his distressed breathing, and the faint tapping of keys down the hall. His fingertips involuntarily began to pound on the counter top, at first trying to keep up with Yuki's writing pace, but then giving up and just making a random beat that could someday become a song.

The peaceful quiet of this home was so serene – sickeningly, disturbing, mind-numbingly serene.

Shuichi put the noodles into the pot and headed down the hall, time to say "hi" to Yuki, might as well. The fight was inevitable, right?

He popped his head into Yuki's study. Then second-guessed himself when he saw Yuki so concentrated on the laptop. Such a beautiful face, Yuki's, when he was really deep in a writing spell. Shuichi stepped all the way in and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms to keep his hands from fidgeting, which Yuki despised.

"I'm home," Shuichi said.

"I heard," Yuki responded, not looking up.

"I'm making macaroni," Shuichi said. He was about to offer Yuki some, but he stopped himself. He couldn't just give everything to his lover. If Yuki wanted some, then he would have to ask for it. He waited for a moment.

Waited.

Waited.

Yuki never asked for any.

"If you want some, then come get it." Shuichi said with an aggression that warned he wasn't in the mood to be messed with, but that same gentle tone that meant he was always in the mood to be messed with, if it meant time with Yuki.

"Hn," Yuki grumbled, still not looking up from the illuminated screen.

The room really did reek of cigarette smoke.

"Okay, then," Shuichi said awkwardly. His hands had fallen to his sides and he was fidgeting against his upper thighs. He headed out the door, but paused a moment to get one last look at Yuki for the night. Before he got a chance to leave, the sound of fizzles carried down the hallway followed by a much louder one that mixed with the noise of spilling water.

It caught both men's attention.

"I'll go get that," Shuichi squealed frantically and bolted down the hallway. He knew right away that the water in the pot had boiled ever, and he had hurried out because he did not want to see the glare he knew Yuki would be shooting at him.

"That is the last time you use my kitchen," Yuki hollered from his study, "you can't even handle the easiest of meals, brat."

Shuichi paid no mind. He got a towel from the drawer and tenderly soaked up the water, wringing it out in the sink and going back for more. After cleaning up, he finished making the macaroni and took it in a bowl (along with a box of pocky) to the living room and sat on the floor. He watched a special on Nittle Grasper.

Feeling adventurous, he took each stick of strawberry pocky, dipped it ruthlessly in the bowl of cheesy noodles and ate it as that.

After awhile his butt lost feeling from the hard carpet, he lifted himself up onto the couch and watched Ryuichi discuss his fame and fortune in an interview. Shuichi was content for a bit, he didn't notice Yuki walk in.

Without saying a word, he sat down next to Shuichi. They had a silent conversation.

I'm sorry, was what Yuki wanted to say, I haven't talk to you, really talked to you, in a few days and at this point I don't know what to say for myself. Instead of blurting this, he cleared his throat and snuggled a little deeper into the cushion.

After a few minutes, Shuichi finally replied by reluctantly lying his head on Yuki's shoulder. The man was warm and his shirt sleeve was incredibly fuzzy.

"Are you watching Nittle Grasper show off again?" Yuki said bitterly. I really do love you. So much.

"What of it?!" Shuichi defended, he grinned slightly. I guess he means well, he can't help it. He loves me, I'm sure.

The past was forgiven between the two for an hour while they watched the rest of the program.

"Yuki?" Shuichi asked cautiously.

"Huh?"

"Do you love me?"

Yuki sighed and picked up the remote, he focused on flipping through the channels. "Love is bothersome."

"So are you saying you don't?" Shuichi timidly prodded. It hurt. It hurt deeply.

"Why do you always have to do this?!" Yuki growled, shrugging Shuichi off his shoulder. He meant that. He didn't need to say that he loved Shuichi to love Shuichi. The brat was just such a...brat! Why couldn't they spend one night together without this pointless, deep conversation.

Shuichi had not grown as much self-control as he had originally thought of himself. His eyes brimmed with tears. "You always avoid the question!" He whined.

"Go to hell," Yuki mumbled, he was bored of this same old fight and he was ready to dismiss.

Shuichi stood up and ran his hands through his hair, making a frustrated noise. He stomped his foot and huffed out, "God! I'm just your fucking toy. Wanna screw? Shuichi is here to save the day! That is all I am." He stormed down the hallway, grumbling more hideous accusations at himself.

Yuki frowned as his eyes followed Shuichi into the bedroom. He knew how this would work. Shuichi would come out in thirty minutes and try to make it up to Yuki.

They say that when playing tug-of-war with a dog, you can never let it win because that will raise the dog's ego too much and make it believe it is the alpha male and that it has control over its owner.

For reasons similar to this, Yuki would have to kick Shuichi out that night. Shuichi would go to Hiro's and he would be back by that time tomorrow. It was all apart of the routine. Yuki hated that routine, but he was now in too far to show weakness.

"Damn nonsense." Yuki breathed out.

However, the night did not unravel like that.

In fifty minutes, Shuichi trudged back from the bedroom with two large, packed bags. He went to the kitchen and pulled his credit card off of the top of the fridge. Yuki didn't even know that he had one.

"I'm leaving," Shuichi stated simply. "I have everything I need."

Yuki got up and followed Shuichi like a shadow as he retrieved all of this other things.

"Going to Hiro's?" Yuki spat, "See you tomorrow."

"There won't be a tomorrow." Shuichi said crossly, yet too quietly to really really really mean it.

Yuki's heart skipped a beat. He could see Shuichi visibly shaking.

"I'm not coming back." Shuichi continued. He would be strong this time. As unsure as he really was in his head, he kept his voice sharp.

When all the stuff was in Shuichi's possession, he left out the front door. Yuki grabbed his arm and spun him around, "Wait." He sounded calm, but then whimpered out, almost in a desperate attempt, "What do you want from me?" His voice was too small.

Shuichi tried to look him in the eyes, but for a change, Yuki didn't try to out-stare him. Instead, he turned his head away.

Shuichi's eyes glistened with more tears at this as he answered, "Just you." He reassured with the slightest smile, trying to brighten the dreary situation. It didn't help either of them, so with that, Shuichi sped down the hall and headed to Hiro's house. He didn't look back and this time, he really didn't come back.

Yuki stood in the doorway for a long time. He let out an uneven breath and went back in, slamming the door behind him. He needed a damn cigarette.

So what did you think? There are more chapters to be done as soon as I can. As I said, all critisism is welcome. Even if you didn't like it and found it to be pretentious or whatever, I could really use the help. Thanks for reading!