Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on Maki Murakami's exquisite story "Gravitation." I take no profit other than enjoyment.
A/N: This is an AH...Alternate History, rather than a true AU. It branches from the anime canon to explore one answer to the question: What if Shu didn't opt to go to Hiro at the end of Track Six?
It's not in any way related to my "Yushu" future history for the boys.
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Nowhere To Go
by Vindaloo
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Chapter 2
The Way We Were
"Leave them off, would you, Yuki?" It was a soft, rather watery request from the bed behind him.
Eiri paused, his hand on the dimmer switch beside the door.
Damn. He thought they'd gotten past that modesty crap a good two weeks ago. He loved (though he'd never admit it) watching Shuuichi's face when he came. It was almost, almost as good as the feeling of that tight little body milking an orgasm from him.
Well, he'd just have to make do with the waxing moon's light filtering in through the windows.
He turned back to the bed, found the way blocked by a slim silhouette, sans towel. It was a mystery how, despite the bare skin, there was nothing seductive about him. Incredibly sexy, yes, but not seductive. Shindou Shuuichi reserved that façade for the stage; it was a game he played with the audience.
Or perhaps not a façade. It was one of the most profound mysteries of his personal pint-sized annoyance, that dichotomy of the onstage siren and the charmingly stubborn naïveté of the real article. Shuuichi offered himself to his audience, handed out love and revealed himself to the world in a way few people had it in them to do, and there was nothing contrived in that giving. It was heartfelt and total.
It was bravery on a scale Yuki Eiri couldn't conceive.
It was terrifying.
So brave on stage, off stage, he could be equally terrifying in his vulnerability, and it was Shuuichi at his most vulnerable facing him now.
Shy, uncertain...as mysteriously innocent as he'd been that first night they'd spent together.
"I didn't think you'd come." Shuuichi's voice, drifting up through the shaggy hair, was barely audible.
"Come?" Eiri repeated, startled and confused as hell.
"To the concert. You surprised me. I—I almost lost it, you know. If it hadn't been for Sakuma-san..."
Suddenly, Eiri understood. I wanted to be that Shuuichi...
Shuuichi, the night of his first real gig. The night he saw Yuki Eiri in the audience and froze. The night Sakuma Ryuichi, lead singer for Nittle Grasper and Shuuichi's idol, had been watching, incognito, from the crowd. Ryu had sensed the younger vocalist's need and responded. Ryu had bridged the awkward moment, singing until Shuuichi rebounded with that totality of performance that had fascinated Eiri at once and forever.
Not that he'd ever told Shuuichi that. Not that night, not any time since.
So much they'd left unsaid that night. They'd been strangers, for all the attraction had been damned near irresistible, from the moment they'd met in the park. That attraction, that fascination, had dragged him from his apartment and to that damned concert of the kid's.
That attraction had made the idiot singer follow him home after the concert, had put the innocent brat squarely into the jaded bastard's territory, and they'd both been caught before they knew what had hit them.
That attraction had been irresistible that night and it still was. Even now, the effort not to lay hands on that slim body had him trembling.
Just for twenty minutes?
The pathetic truth was, the hard part was pretending he did hate him.
"How could I not come after such an articulate challenge?" he responded at last, joining Shuuichi's wistful fantasy. Twenty minutes. What could it hurt? He lifted a hand to cup that sweet face, brushing the damp cheek with his thumb.
There'd been tears in his eyes that night, too.
Musical laughter, sweet and shy, so very different from the maniacal, confident stage laugh.
"You're such a liar. You came to laugh at me."
Laugh at him? Laugh at the pathetic excuse for lyrics that had blown into his face the night they met? Funny, of all the possibilities, laughter had never even remotely touched his mind that night.
"See right through me, don't you?" he countered lightly.
"And you...look right through me." Shuuichi's breath caught. Sad, now. A wrenching return to the present. As if he'd realized his slip, those eyes, liquid pools in the moonlight, blinked up at him, and the whisper turned dreamy. "I...fell in love with you that first night in the park, you know. It just took me a while to figure it out."
Fell in love with the man who made him cry. The man who trashed his precious song. Funny, he'd fallen in love with the idiot who jumped out in front of his car and damned near killed them both, just to throw that critique in his face. Who'd then written a new song, in utter defiance of his assessment and challenged him to come to the concert and hear it for himself.
The new song itself had been only slightly better than the first, but oh, what a difference the form of delivery had made.
Bravery on a scale he'd never understand.
Two small hands wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Instead, he lifted Shuuichi up and carried him back to the bed, lips finding lips. The small hands shifted to his shirt, working the buttons free, brushing the soft fabric off his shoulders as he set Shu down on the bed. His slacks quickly followed, Shuuichi for once as eager as Eiri.
Eiri attacked that responsive body, bringing it to life as only he could, as only he ever had. Shuuichi had been a virgin when they met, innocent in every sense of the word, and he'd shaped the younger man into his perfect bedmate.
Not that it had taken much molding. They'd been perfectly matched from the first time.
Shu's cries of mixed pain and pleasure filled the room. He always objected, always tried to convince Eiri he was being too rough, but from the start, the moment Eiri pulled back, the little hypocrite would be screaming harder-faster-harder-faster!
The truth was, the kid was a sensory-addict. He loved extremes and the extreme of sexual pleasure was pain. He'd been careful never to actually hurt the little idiot—mainly because hurting Shuuichi would hurt him far more. The brat was tight, his dancer's butt was exceedingly strong, and he was (if he did say so himself) quite nicely endowed. Lube and prep were fucking mandatory.
But somehow, this time, the little sensory-sponge was different. In the past, Shuuichi had been passive, for all he'd be actively writhing and clinging and kissing whatever came within reach of his lively mouth, but this time...
This time, Shuuichi slipped free of Eiri's control. His sensitive hands and mouth began exploring, as they never had before, as if...
As if he were saying hello and goodbye, to each and every part of the body that had taken his innocence. For the first time, Eiri realized what he'd done, casting the kid out so abruptly. He'd denied him the chance for (Buddha save him from the worst -ism of pop-psyche culture) closure on that single-most significant moment in a hopeless romantic's life.
And Shuuichi was nothing if not hopelessly romantic.
And so Eiri found himself lying back and letting it happen, relinquishing control. Wallowing. Lost in the sensations those sensitive hands and warm mouth evoked.
Trusting...
As he hadn't since...
He shuddered and pulled Shu up, roughly, away from his groin where that sweet, exceedingly talented mouth had been rousing more than flesh, pushed him flat and attacked his mouth and lower, reestablishing who the fuck was the leader in this relationship.
Driving...that other man...and his exceedingly talented mouth and dominating hands back into the past. Where he fucking well belonged.
A moment of resistance, and Shuuichi, his Shuuichi, passive and hungry, was back.
Relief flooded him as his universe settled back into its proper order, and he set about reminding Shuuichi exactly why he was the leader in their shared bed. Yet somehow, despite all his efforts, despite the fact that Shuuichi screamed when he came, his ass contracting as it would to send Eiri predictably over the orgasmic edge, even as he slipped free and wrapped his arms around the kid for one final post-coital doze...something was still...very wrong.
✴
Morning light shafted through the room.
Eiri groaned and twisted, trying to escape the heaven-cast torment, found his path blocked by a slim, naked body. A slim, naked, male body.
Damn.
The brat knew better. What the hell...
Then he remembered. It wasn't a normal night. Shuuichi hadn't invaded the bedroom, he'd been brought in, and Eiri hadn't shoved him back to the couch afterward. Hell, Eiri didn't even remember falling asleep, it had happened so smoothly and naturally.
And he, Eiri, had had no nightmares. For the first time in years, his bed had remained free of Kitizawa Yuki for an entire night.
Damn.
He stretched, carefully, not ready to face an early-morning Shuuichi, a Shuuichi who had yet to try to beg his way back into the house. Eiri wasn't certain he'd have the backbone to refuse, if Shu hit him with the plea at this particular moment. He didn't remember ever waking up quite so...at peace with the world.
Damn.
But he had to resist. As good as Shindou Shuuichi might—and that was a large might—be for him, he was disaster waiting to happen for Shindou Shuuichi.
He and his fucking insidious, murderous past. He couldn't, wouldn't risk destroying Shuuichi as he'd destroyed...him.
Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy this rare moment. Didn't mean he couldn't prop himself on one elbow and appreciate the view.
One last time.
Damn.
As much as he hated to admit it, Shuuichi wasn't the only one who needed closure on this shared chapter in their lives.
He liked the fucking little runt. He liked the way Shuuichi's laughter filled a room. He liked— Dammit, he liked the way the kid sang in the shower, liked it when he cut his fingers in the kitchen and came crying for bandaids (because the idiot loved the ritual of sitting on Eiri's lap while Eiri repaired the damage) and didn't even mind the adrenaline rush when the moron managed to set the fire alarm off.
But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. The world knew, now, and the world would make sure to destroy them along with those fleeting memories.
And that, he thought, easing the sheet from the slim shoulder, was a fucking poor excuse. It wasn't the world he had to protect Shu from, it was himself.
He wasn't a stupid man. He felt Shuuichi maneuvering past the guards he'd placed between himself and the world years ago, knew that for all he might rationally endeavor to control his actions, his self-protective instincts, that side that didn't believe Shu's protestations of love, that side that expected every moment to have that professed love turned against him, were going to continue to control him. The more successful Shu was at infiltrating, the more aggressive those instincts would become, and eventually, Shu would truly be hurt.
And if the protective side was right, if Shu was simply using him somehow, when that eventual betrayal came, Shu might not survive.
In either case, hurting Shuuichi, Eiri realized now, truly hurting him, would destroy whatever soul had survived Uesugi Eiri's last betrayal.
A deep scratch marred the perfection of the smooth-skinned back. Eiri frowned, recalling the blood-stained towel, wondering what had happened and how much damage the clumsy baka had done to himself. He really shouldn't have let the brat distract him last night.
He slowly moved the sheet, trying not to disturb the softly snoring Shuuichi, inspecting each square inch of skin thus revealed.
Bruises. Several smallish scratches.
The sheet cleared the round curve of his butt, and Eiri froze. What...?
The skin was...raw. Butt, thighs... Suddenly he understood. The scrubbing brush in the shower. The stains. Shu hadn't been cleaning porcelain, he'd been cleaning...himself.
"What the fuck?" Eiri said aloud, before he thought, and the slumbering Shuuichi started, then curled tighter around his pillow, burying his face while exposing more abused flesh, even to a raw and extremely painful-looking entrance, an intimate hole he'd so casually invaded the night before.
No wonder Shuuichi had wanted the lights left off.
Suddenly, a whole lot made a horrible kind of sense.
"Dammit, who did this?" Eiri demanded, grabbing the slim arm and hauling the dazed brat up out of the pillow and around to face him. "Why didn't you say something?"
Fear mingled equally with confusion.
"Y–yuki?" Small hands lifted to rub at his eyes, so like, so very like a child. Those large, unfocused eyes squinted in the light, looked around, and as awareness slowly dawned, began to fill with silent tears. "I'm sorry, Yuki," he whispered, "I thought...I thought it would be okay. I thought... But I couldn't let them hurt you. Couldn't just give up on us." One of those hands reached to Eiri's face, tracing his cheek like the brush of a feather, then disappeared. "But we were already over, weren't we?"
Shuuichi inched his way off the bed, and limped toward the door.
"Dammit, Shuuichi, what happened?" Eiri thrust himself out of the bed, froze as steady violet eyes lifted to meet his anger head on.
"The twenty minutes are up, Yuki. You don't have to pretend any longer."
"Pretend? Pretend? You think I'm pretending to be pissed?"
The body flinched, but the violet eyes held firm. "Y–you've every right to be a–angry, a–and I'm really, really sorry, but it sh–should end now. It should be over. I–I don't know what else I can do. With–with me out of the picture, it should all blow over."
"Shuuichi, dammit, you're not making sense. Did you quit Bad Luck to end the rumors? To protect me? That's insane. Seguchi can take care of that. I don't give a fuck about those stupid tabloids. I want to know what happened the other night. I want to know how you got those bruises. Dammit, did someone...did someone..." But he couldn't get the word out. It caught in his throat.
Shuuichi stared at him a moment, as if waiting for him to finish, but the words just wouldn't come out, and the last shred of hope died from that beautiful little face: "It—it's none of your business, Yuki." Quietly said, without a hint of censure. "Not any more." The pink head dropped. "It's time for me to go." Shuuichi turned back for the door, paused, one hand to the frame. "I do love you, Yuki Eiri. I'll ...always... love you."
He closed the door softly behind him.
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"Moshi, moshi," Nakano Hiroshi's voice, low and calm, could slow a racing heart, even over a phone. And yet, Nakano Hiroshi's promise to make Eiri regret hurting his best friend was the one threat Eiri had ever taken seriously.
A good friend; a dangerous enemy.
"Nakano?" Eiri said abruptly. "Yuki."
"Shit." A sigh, then: "Do I need to come pick him up?"
The man was, without question, psychic. "Yeah. Fast. I'll handle Touma."
"I'm on my way."
"Don't...don't push him, Nakano."
"What's going on?"
"Just...get your ass over here, will you?"
"Yeah."
The line went dead. Eiri heard the shower going, and dialed Seguchi's office. When his brother-in-law answered, he said: "Touma, don't ask. I blew it. I've asked Nakano to come get him. Don't let that crazy American do something stupid. Tell him to get Nakano here, then vanish. Shuuichi...he's ready to bolt. I..." Dammit, his voice was breaking. He knew, in his gut, he knew. And his breath grew short as panic threatened.
"Eiri, do you need me to come over?"
"Dammit, this isn't about me! Shuuichi's the one who...who..."
"Eiri, I'm coming over."
"I only need one thing, Seguchi. And that's to know Shuuichi's safe." He hung up. Safe . . . And alive.
Suddenly, there was only one way to set his roiling brain at rest. The shower was still going. Suddenly, he didn't care about the kid's needs, the kid's modesty. Only knowing Shuuichi was alive and not lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood mattered.
He knocked on the bathroom door. "Shuuichi?"
No answer.
He banged on the door, his mind a morass of hideous memories. His own rape when he was only sixteen. The horrible feeling that he'd never be clean again. The constant urge to slit his wrists, an urge only Touma's constant presence had prevented. "Dammit, you moron, answer me!"
Still nothing.
The door was locked, but that meant nothing to a determined shoulder. The frame shattered, the door swung free—
On an empty, steam-filled room.
TBC
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Next: Catch Me Before I Fall.
Reviews: Thanks to all who did! I will say, only the first part of this story arc has been written. I thought it was the end but as I rewrite for posting, another segment is taking shape, so please, if you have reactions or questions, take a minute to put them into a review. It might help the next segment to happen faster.
Abi: My first review on this story! YAY! Thank you. I'll try. :D Torring: Big Shu hugs! The anime and the manga both did have something of a "magic happens here" for Shu's recovery after the rape, witness all the fanfic written on the topic. :D I think I have, like, three versions so far (:D:D:D) None of which are strictly canon. Maybe I should try one that is. Hmmm...
Moon: Wow. Thank you very much for the review. You raise some excellent points. (A) I'm glad you like my interpretation of the boys. I find them fascinating to work with and tip my hat to Maki Murakami for creating characters with such scope that they move easily and naturally from slapstick humor to intense drama. (B) I've worked in the graphic format and it's really hard to put in delicate psychological innuendo, particularly when the character in question is as taciturn regarding personal issues as Yuki is (not to mention, who knows what we're missing in the translation!) It's even more difficult in the anime, which has an enormous restriction on length. Viewpoint prose is ever so much more informative, since you get to put in the thoughts behind the blank stares. (C) Angst. Hmmm...you know, I hadn't really thought about my feelings on that topic until you mentioned it. Angst is, by definition, a feeling of generalized anxiety or dread. I ...don't think I really do that. I like emotional tension, but I try to keep that tension focused, i.e. I try not to let the characters wallow in trivialities. I try to keep the source of the anxiety focused on the plot element that created it. That way it doesn't infect the rest of the relationship, dragging the problems on ad infinitum. And ultimately, I believe in the chemistry between the two characters and their fundamental need to make the relationship work, which is the basis for the Gravitation universe, so it generally has an optimistic...feel, I suppose. Does that make any sense? (D) I really try to assume the reader hasn't seen or read the anime: thank you for noticing that.
Enzeru: :D Thank you! I'll try. It's a bit different tone from my other stories, in that it's earlier in the relationship. DD666: Thank you. It's not particularly long...at least this section. Goddess: Heh heh...Doesn't he always? He's made of rubber, you know. ;-) Gabrielle and Bubble: I have to admit, I was sniffling myself when I wrote that line about pretending for X minutes. Every once in a while, a character pulls one on you, and that line came totally out of left field. Celeste: Don't dread. This is fairly short. :D Ray: Heh heh. I do write a relatively sane Yuki. For one thing, he seems that way because frequently you're in his viewpoint, and from his POV, there's always a perfectly valid reason for what he does and says. He's not a deliberately cruel man...if he were, there'd be no story worth telling. He's also smart and can rationalize anything he's inclined to do. That said, I hope the Yuki in this story will be at least a bit spicier (and a bit less balanced) than the Yushu Yuki...he's several years younger and the relationship with Shu is still very volatile. Also...I'll be honest, it's kind of fun to choose situations where Yuki's better side wins out over the bastard, if only to have him slip up. Anyway...hope you enjoy! Mouse: Oh...dear. I must admit, I wrote the rough draft of this story before reading the manga and the anime gave us nothing about Shu's family life. I fear fans of poor papa-Shindou are going to throw virtual tomatoes at me next chapter.
emalathe, Noriko, catti-dono, Saint Germaine, Goddess, far-east-steps, and anybody I forgot to mention....thank you all for reviewing. Hope it continues to please!
—Vin—