This story was previously deleted do to some mix up in communication with a friend of mine and I took it as an opportunity to revise and re-edit this story. I'm sorry for any problems and such it may have caused. If you have any questions or comments please contact me at yarou. Alright, here it is. Again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or any of it's charcter's. (This will be my one and only disclaimer)
Description: AU Shuichi, a small child of eight has had to face more in his young age than we probably have faced in ten years of ours. His childhood seems to be riddled with death, hatred, and lies built upon deceit. Misunderstandings in the past make for certain events in the future and later on in Shuichi's adolescence he's sent off to boarding school. In this place his whole world is flipped upside down and with it, his whole life is changed.
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Broken Porcelain
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In a room only lit by the soft shine of the moon that poured in from the open windows, there laid a child on the ground, seemingly broken. A doll lay sprawled next to the pale boy; its face cracked, eyes wide and unblinking as it stared lifelessly up at the ceiling; its ruffled blue dress and long blond hair fluttering slightly in the cold breeze.
Screams and yells echoed through the door, only to wrap the child's body in a tight envelope, encasing him in a world where there was only a black abyss and screamed cries. It seemed that he has to be kept here, the yells left to devour his every thought until he had nothing left but those haunting voices to keep him company.
His parents fought downstairs; about what, he didn't know, and all of it made him feel small and useless. He felt so weak. He could do nothing but stare at the wall of his room in some hopes of drowning that sound out, all of the screaming, all of the crying.
His ghostly violet eyes looked over at the broken doll to the right of him and then over at the door to his left; with great difficulty he lifted himself up and looked down at the porcelain doll that lay unmoving at his feet and after a moment he scooped it up; his dark burgendy hair falling into his face; and with a small hand he brushed the stray hair back, no aggravation in the gesture.
Once he had the lifeless toy secured within his arms he walked to the door, and just before his hand touched the doorknob he stopped; his fingers hovering just above it. Words beat through the door and reached his ears; his eyes wide as his grip loosened on the doll.
"That is not my child! That thing is the spawn of the devil!" He heard his mother rasp out and sobbed slightly as he heard her move around in the other room.
"I don't care!" his father yelled, "I don't even know if he's mine because you're such a slut! So you'll have to take him; custody's yours! I don't want it!" He heard something smash, and his mother cried louder before she started to shout things to his father.
"I don't want it; that is not my child... it isn't, it can't be!" his mother wailed as she threw things against the wall and shattered them into a thousand tiny pieces.
His whole body shook as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.
He was the devil? How? What did he do wrong? Why didn't his parents want him...? He thought that they loved him and now... and now they fought over who would have to take him; neither wanted him; they didn't want anything to do with him.
As his body shook with harder sobs the doll fell from his grip, half of its face breaking; the pieces sounded like glass as they hit the bare marble floors. The sound seemed deafening as he watched parts of its face scatter across the floor. Instantly he stopped breathing; his only thoughts leading to the conclusion that they had heard, but they carried on as though they had perceived nothing.
"You take him! I don't want that thing ever living alone with me! Who knows if he'll do it again! And a shame is all that he is, and a disgrace is what you are, so you take him! And by the gods I swear if you don't I'll leave him on the side of the road so he can fend for himself. There is no way in Hell that I'll take that!" his mother screamed, heaving slightly as she finished her rant.
"Oh really, you would do that to something that came out of you. Who's the devil now, sweetheart? You or your child?" his father hissed. The mother screamed in outrage, and instantly after that he heard a loud smack soon followed by a muffled thump that resounded throughout the house.
"Don't you ever lay your hand on me. " his father hissed before another loud thump came and a slight, muffled gurgle followed.
Finding some courage he peaked through the open door and looked out only to freeze at the sight that met him.
His mother laid sprawled out on the ground, clutching her stomach; blood starting to drip from her mouth. His father stood above her, hands clenched and jaw set.
"Y-you monster." she weakly rasped as she coughed up some more blood and groaned.
"I am no more a monster than that thing you gave birth to in the next room you whore." The little boy flinched at his words, hurt more by them than any physical wound ever could.
He bent down and picked back up his broken doll; the pieces of the face missing in several places, but one eye and part of her lips and nose remained.
He gently touched the face and hugged it to his chest as if he believed he held the most precious thing in the world before he stepped out of his room and made his way cautiously to the study his parents could be heard at as they continued to argue.
His father heard something and as he looked over he saw the small boy meekly walking towards them. His eyes narrowed to thin snake-like slits and he clenched his hands into tighter fists. His mother looked up and quickly tried to stand but only fell back down again and clutched onto herself in pain.
"What..." his father started, "are you doing out here?" The little boy remained silent, never stopping as he walked farther into the room. "I asked you a question, boy; I expect an answer." Still no reply came from the quivering child as he gazed at his momothers ragged form.
The tears had long since stopped falling, but the sight before him sent new ones stinging at his eyes. "M-Mother?" he stuttered out. He started to walk closer, but her hoarse voice stopped him.
"D-don't come nea-near me..." His footsteps ceased, but his gaze stayed fixated on her; his eyes wide and tear filled. His father didn't like being ignored, and within a few steps he stood in front of the small boy, and he grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, nails digging painfully into his shoulders.
"Look at me..." he gripped him tightly. "Look at me!" he shouted and shook the boy harder causing him to drop the broken doll in his hands. It fell to the ground, its face cracking but no pieces fell from it.
His father watched, his eyes glowing like the fires of hell as he growled, "Only queers play with dolls. Are you a queer?" The cruelty dripped from his voice like venom and stung the small boys ears until he thought that they would bleed.
"Answer me when I speak to you!" he bellowed and back handed him across the face, the sheer force of the blow enough to leave a bright red mark on the child's face; which was already starting to bruise.
The impact of the hit would have knocked the small boy off his feet if not for his father's grip on his arm that kept him rooted to his place.
The boy shook slightly and tried to turn away from his father, tried to escape, but he knew that his father had him trapped.
His mother groaned slightly and said something, but he couldn't hear; his ears rang painfully, and his vision ebbed away to black; the hit having set all his nerves on fire and his head tingled with pain.
Though the soft murmuring of his mother sounded as though she whispered for his father to stop she made no move to get up and help him. His father let go suddenly and he fell to the ground; his hand immediately going up to clutch his hurt cheek.
"Go back to your room." His father spoke tiredly, as if he just had a long day at work. When the boy made no move to leave his father growled and walked to where he lay, roughly grabbed his arm and dragging him to his room.
Once his father had thrown him onto the cold ground of his room he proceeded to slam and lock the door, ensuring he wouldn't be able to come back out again. He lay shivering on the floor, his arms wrapped around him as his only comfort. Soon the clouds that filled the lightless skies blocked the glow of comfort from the moon, only to be replaced with an empty darkness as the silence thickened and grew in the cold, bleak night. Soft violet eyes glowed in the dark and glistened with new tears before they closed, only to open when the light from a new moon rose and shined on his tear stained face.
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Broken Porcelain
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So that's the end of the first chapter. Reviews and/or flames (but I prefer critisizm) are welcome. Thank you for reading.
