Who Needs the Memories?
By Nix Winter www.onepinkrose.com
Disclaimers: I don't own Yuki, or Gravitation.
Warnings: This might migrate to being an original at some point.
The problem was Yuki did love Shuichi. It made him do stupid things, like showing up at NG Records. One hand on the wheel, another on the bottle, he glared at the stupid cars that had such trouble getting out of his way. He was a dangerous man! Didn't they know that? Another drink of his beer, hold it in his mouth, because sobs he wouldn't allow had closed off his throat, then swallow, force it down, force it in. Stretch and burn, and god, he needed another drink.
That first beer last just about long enough for him to hit the free way and need to throw the car into fifth. Ugly, evil monster that he was, he still took great pleasure in the straight away that left this part of the city. His sweet Ferrari made 110 before he needed to slow down. There was another beer in this car somewhere, he thought, fishing under the seat, one hand on the wheel.
Damn pillars! As he swerved to miss the overpass, the second beer rolled into his hands. The street lights were not all sparkly because there were tears in his eyes. Yuki Eiri didn't cry. Not since, not for a long time.
With his thumb, he turned, shoved the bottle cap off. A third of this bottle went down in no time. God. Where was he going? He wasn't ever going home. Shuichi's brother, twin, stunt double, whatever had humiliated him, and Shuichi had gone off like a prima donna with insulted feelings. What had he been thinking that he could start his life over with the pink haired singer? He was a stupid writer of romantic fictions, that's all.
He'd get himself a new apartment! Shuichi would be better off that way. Maybe he'd hook up with his guitar player. Yuki's hand shook as he did in another half of the beer. Shuichi didn't really love him. The boy was just playing drama queen to make his records sell. It was all part of an act. Why was there a red light in front of him? Where was he?
Red lights can be very interesting. Maybe it was an omen. With a block to go before the red light and his car doing 120, he watched the cars on the other street, going about their lives, simple normal lives. Love and fights and curling up at night, normal beautiful lives. Not like him. A blond Japanese. No one had ever wanted him around. God, he wanted a cigarette. Some part of him welcomed the red light. He was finishing the beer when he hit it. He thought of wanting a cigarette, as time slowed and his still logical mind calculated how fast he was going, how fast the delivery truck could put on it's breaks. He thought of Shuichi smiling, such beautiful and innocent eyes. 'I wanted to love you,' he whispered to the singer he could see so clearly in his mind, who wasn't sitting there with him.
Metal bent. His car spun. First the steering wheel, then back against the seat, then forward into a rain of windshield glass that broke like little clear cereal chunks, raining down on blond hair that should never have been, mixing with red. Golden eyes blinked through the blood, watching as the passenger side of the car bent inwards. It was over. Relief. He'd never kill again. He'd never hurt Shuichi. For just a second, he wished he'd stayed at Ryuichi's birthday party. He wished he'd been able to sing for the singer, sit with Touma, smile at his sister, wished he hadn't been so horrible that no one could ever want him. God, he wanted a cigarette. And there was nothing, just black comfort and peace. Sometimes it's good to be unconscious.
By Nix Winter www.onepinkrose.com
Disclaimers: I don't own Yuki, or Gravitation.
Warnings: This might migrate to being an original at some point.
The problem was Yuki did love Shuichi. It made him do stupid things, like showing up at NG Records. One hand on the wheel, another on the bottle, he glared at the stupid cars that had such trouble getting out of his way. He was a dangerous man! Didn't they know that? Another drink of his beer, hold it in his mouth, because sobs he wouldn't allow had closed off his throat, then swallow, force it down, force it in. Stretch and burn, and god, he needed another drink.
That first beer last just about long enough for him to hit the free way and need to throw the car into fifth. Ugly, evil monster that he was, he still took great pleasure in the straight away that left this part of the city. His sweet Ferrari made 110 before he needed to slow down. There was another beer in this car somewhere, he thought, fishing under the seat, one hand on the wheel.
Damn pillars! As he swerved to miss the overpass, the second beer rolled into his hands. The street lights were not all sparkly because there were tears in his eyes. Yuki Eiri didn't cry. Not since, not for a long time.
With his thumb, he turned, shoved the bottle cap off. A third of this bottle went down in no time. God. Where was he going? He wasn't ever going home. Shuichi's brother, twin, stunt double, whatever had humiliated him, and Shuichi had gone off like a prima donna with insulted feelings. What had he been thinking that he could start his life over with the pink haired singer? He was a stupid writer of romantic fictions, that's all.
He'd get himself a new apartment! Shuichi would be better off that way. Maybe he'd hook up with his guitar player. Yuki's hand shook as he did in another half of the beer. Shuichi didn't really love him. The boy was just playing drama queen to make his records sell. It was all part of an act. Why was there a red light in front of him? Where was he?
Red lights can be very interesting. Maybe it was an omen. With a block to go before the red light and his car doing 120, he watched the cars on the other street, going about their lives, simple normal lives. Love and fights and curling up at night, normal beautiful lives. Not like him. A blond Japanese. No one had ever wanted him around. God, he wanted a cigarette. Some part of him welcomed the red light. He was finishing the beer when he hit it. He thought of wanting a cigarette, as time slowed and his still logical mind calculated how fast he was going, how fast the delivery truck could put on it's breaks. He thought of Shuichi smiling, such beautiful and innocent eyes. 'I wanted to love you,' he whispered to the singer he could see so clearly in his mind, who wasn't sitting there with him.
Metal bent. His car spun. First the steering wheel, then back against the seat, then forward into a rain of windshield glass that broke like little clear cereal chunks, raining down on blond hair that should never have been, mixing with red. Golden eyes blinked through the blood, watching as the passenger side of the car bent inwards. It was over. Relief. He'd never kill again. He'd never hurt Shuichi. For just a second, he wished he'd stayed at Ryuichi's birthday party. He wished he'd been able to sing for the singer, sit with Touma, smile at his sister, wished he hadn't been so horrible that no one could ever want him. God, he wanted a cigarette. And there was nothing, just black comfort and peace. Sometimes it's good to be unconscious.