A/N: My obsession for Gravitation has returned!! (hence the change of my Pen name. - - - I used to be known as InuYashaMoon- - - now known as Nittle Grasper Predilection. Couldn't help my sudden urge to change things a bit, muwahahahahaha.)

Right off the bat... this is my first 'Gravitation' fanfic. So readers, please be kind? ;; And because I simply live for drama and angst and tragedy, that is the direction this story is taking place. The events that will occur– it'll be my first time attempting such situations, and I hope I achieve them well enough for satisfaction.

Anyway! Enough of my yapping and onto the story!!

© Maki Murakami

© My story idea... you steal it.. I will hunt you down, flay you of your flesh, tear you limb from limb using a fork and feed your remains to my vicious demonic dog in my backyard. ::grins:: So don't steal it!

Warning– Rated R

Contains: Violence, strong language, extreme drama, suicidal situations possible, sexual situations, rape, adult situations– read at your own risk.

Track 1- Confusion: Misunderstandings

"NA! Yuki!! It's not what you think!.

Yuki!!

It's not what it looks like!

Yuki!!

It's not what you think!!"

- - - - - - - - - -

"Shit!" The angered blonde rose from the comforting sheets of his bed in a rapid motion, causing his already messy tresses to appear even worse. Each golden strand stuck this way and that, pieces looming over his stormy eyes. A trembling hand lifted to his head, gently rubbing his throbbing temples. He wasn't too happy, needless to say.

Those angered, cat-like golden orbs flickered wildly, radiating the bad mood he seemed to be in. The romance novelist snorted bitterly.

"NA! Yuki! It's not what you think!"

"Not what I think he says?" He questioned to himself softly in that soft yet cold tone of voice he had so easily adapted to. Removing his fingers from the side of his head, Yuki had the sudden urge to smoke a cigarette; and he did just that. Popping the nasty stick in between his luscious lips, lighting it with a sigh, he slipped away from the warmth of his bed.

"Not what I think..." The tall, slender man stood before a set of sliding glass doors, the transparent object granting his golden orbs permission to view the busy night life of Tokyo. Wisps of smoke rose above his head as he continued to puff away on his cigarette. Smoking soothed him so much, it brought his disturbed soul peace and serenity.

Though, if you gazed deeply into his cat-like orbs right now, you'll find a passive expression, oh yes. But you'll also be greeted with something else, an unusual emotion for the romance novelist to be displaying.

"Damn that annoying brat."

He muffled softly, the half way burnt stick falling from the grasp of his lips and crashing softly onto the ground. His ears had picked up a faint, painful, crying sound. Right away he recognized the voice. After hearing Shuichi cry so much the time he has been with him, how could he not recognize the voice?

"Why is he here? What the hell gives him the idea that I'll allow him to stay here?!" The anger aroused within Yuki, growing deeper and more bitter.

Burying his hands within the pockets of his loose fitting pants, he shuffled along annoyingly throughout the halls of his large home. The sound of his socks muffled quietly along the wooden boards that filled nearly every room.

Once he reached the room Shuichi had 'claimed' his own, the romance novelist came to a sudden halt. His hand had reached for the door knob, but stopped dead in it's tracks. The limb trembled somewhat, the sound of the singer's voice echoing inside his head.

His cries, his painful and agonizing cries. Not once had Yuki heard such a horrible sound. It was unlike Shuichi– bearing so much anguish within his voice. But why? Why was he crying in such a way? He was the one who caused the pain. He was the one who had hurt Yuki. If so, why did he cry with such an hurtful voice?

Just as he was fixing to turn away, he heard his name called. Practically paralyzed, Yuki could not move as he listened further to the boy's words.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Y-Yuki... why.. why did this happen? Why did you have to show up at the recording studio? Damn it!! Why did you come?!" The pink haired boy slammed his fist against the boards of the floor, tears flying this way and that. His face was stained with streams of tears– and also, blood. Streaks of dry blood decorated his flesh, including his arms and legs.

His form was trembling immensely, his legs curled up into a small ball. Shuichi's heart pounded fiercely within his breast as he continued to mumble unknowingly hurtful words into the empty air.

"If you didn't come... then you wouldn't have seen that. You wouldn't have seen it Yuki..." His fist clenched tightly, so compressed that his nails drew blood. This of course caused the boy to wince. If only, if only his dear lover knew the truth of what had happened today, then things would be different. But Yuki didn't know, and which his high class of stubborn, what chances does Shuichi have of getting the blonde's attention? Slim to none– and slim just walked out the door.

"No.." A sickening feeling aroused in the young singer's gut. The simple thoughts of his dear lover hurt killed him, tore him to pieces inside.

The nausea was too great to handle. Rising to his shaky limbs, Shuichi placed a cupped hand over his mouth before stumbling towards the trash can.

When he stood back, he coughed somewhat into his hand. To his surprised eyes, a few drops of fresh was drizzled along his creamy skin.

"Y-Yuki..."

- - - - - - - - - -

"If only I didn't come. If only I wasn't there... that's all he has to say? If I didn't come.. I wouldn't have seen that." Yuki semi-mimicked, his legs walking him slowly back to his room. Once in the wide, open space, he shut the door behind him and made sure he locked it.

The romance novelist sat on the cold floor, his back pressed loosely against the wall. One leg was propped up into the air, his elbow resting against his knee as he provided support for his head. The other simply rested upon the ground, bent slightly towards his body.

That empty, almost lifeless expression caressed his handsome features. Another cigarette inserted in between those voluptuous lips of his.

Yuki's fingers were lost within the mess of his golden tresses, his head leaning against the support of his hand. It was a perfect position for the shitty mood he had fallen prey of.

"Damn it all. Damn that fucking brat. Damn everything."

A deeply grieving sigh left his slightly parted lips. Those cat-like orbs focused towards the suddenly very interesting ground. Each detail amongst the boards grabbed his attention, drifting his mind away from the incident that had occurred earlier that day.

"I need a break. I need to be alone... I want Shuichi gone."

A/N: Merely the beginning... yes, I know not much has occurred, and you're probably curious as to know what's going on between Yuki and Shuichi. Stick around for the next chapter and you'll witness everything. Things will gradually began to unfold, and the drama and angst will hit heavily.

Track 2: Recollections

See you soon.

NGP