Drifting Souls
a Gravitation fic by
Mitsukai
'Souls are strange beings. The move where they will and are yet confined within the contours of the body. Greeks thought the body the temple of the soul, where it dwelt freely. During the middle ages, it was thought that the body was the prison of the soul. It is hard to tell which is correct, in this day in age, though it seems to be elements of both. Yet when bouncing around on the pinball board of life and existence, certain souls find and attract others. There is no pattern in these kindred souls, perhaps they belong to man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, human and animal; each attraction and bonding is a special thing. In strange instances when a group of souls are brought together by one...
It is called Gravitation.'
_____________________________________________
Chapter VI - Prescription Drugs
And Their Non-Prescription Brethren...
______________________________________________
Five hours ago, Yuki Eiri had been with his doctor. Five hours hence, he was sitting on a park bench in the dark, staring at the cityscape below. The lights of Tokyo stared back at him, glaring unnaturally, blotting out the stars closest to the horizon. It was as if the sun was perpetually rising, and yet dawn never came.
It was rather ironic.
Every day in the morning, the unquenchable Shuichi jolted him awake with some sort of inane blather. Yet, no matter how many times he woke to his lover's cheerful face, he still lived his life in darkness.
This could be one of the reasons he was put on a stronger medication each time he went to visit the doctor. Being next to Shuichi had made him realize exactly how deep into the shadows of the night he was. The wine- haired boy had no doubt returned from whatever he had been doing all day by now, and might as well be working himself into a froth with worry about him. Worry and concern which he didn't deserve. Golden eyes closed, as if the weight of his mood had pulled his eyelids down, and he sighed, reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarretes that he normally kept handy.
Damn.
There weren't any there.
That plan shattered into small shards, Yuki contented himself with watching the eternal sunrise of Tokyo over the fences, thinking about other things than his growing want of a small, paper covered, filtered cyllinder. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think about was Shuichi.
That made him want a cigarrette more badly then he had before. Now that he was certain that none existed in his immidiate viscinity, he sat up; then lured his legs into supporting the rest of his lithe form. Walking forward, he leaned against the fence seperating him from the rest of the gaily lit Toyko.
Without looking at his watch, he hazarded that it was around two in the morning now. A cold wind swept past him, running icy fingers through his sun-kissed hair, which even now was dancing in the winds passing. Yuki sighed out into the chill air, watching uninterested as the warmth of his breath crystalized into a thin mist of vapour before dissapating.
He found himself turning away from the lights of the city layed out before him, and back into the velvet darkness of the path that was always welcome, for it coated the now constant throbbing of his headache with some protection that allowed him to shove the annoying feeling away. Walking along the path, his cellphone began to ring, and he almost hissed with annoyance as the grating sound beat against his head. Instead, his hand reached into his pocket to pull the offending object out. It was better to silence the ringing for now, he could always hang up after a few seconds of 'conversation' if he liked. Yuki no longer felt obliged to talk to anyone if he wasn't interested enough, and due to reasons of his own, he was no longer interested in much of anything besides meeting deadline after deadline; which reminded him that he had not gotten any work done today.
He pressed the button, and raised the phone to his ear, not giving any inclination that he was listening as he walked along.
"Eiri." came the voice. Another offensive sound, he was not in the mood to be chastised by his sister for his relationship with Shuichi, or hearing anything else she might happen to say. He didn't respond, and Mika, who was used to the attitude of her otouto, proceeded to talk. "Tatsuha is at your house?" It was less of a question than a statement. She obviously knew this was so, and was calling him up for confirmation. Yuki did not dignify her with an answer, yet she continued. "I heard that there was a younger woman at your house, what are you doing with a-..." He turned off the phone, and dropped it back into his pocket.
So the cellist was still there. He puffed out a bit of breath, and decided that he had better go back to the house and tell her to go back to her hotel room; his house was crowded enough with Shuichi living there. The younger boy's frame was small, yet he took up much more emotional space than anyone the writer knew. He killed a small smile before it even got close to ghosting his lips; he wasn't going home to see Shuichi, but to kick his brother and that girl out.
However, contrary to his own statements, Yuki stepped just a little lighter as his feet treaded the path that would take him back to his place.
______________________________________________
Hikari stirred her rapidly cooling tea with a small spoon, and watched intently as the tea leaves on the bottom wafted around gently with the current she was making. Shuichi, she knew, was still curled on one half of the couch, with Tatsuha lying prone on the other half. Therefore, when the door opened with a soft click, she was the first to notice. Shuichi was right behind her, and Tatsuha had not even registered for the race.
The door opened with a soft creak, and a shoe scuffed quietly against the paneled floor. Shuichi immediately raised his head, amethyst eyes suddenly searching in the darkness for the person he knew instinctively was there. He slid off the couch and walked slowly to the center of the room where he could see directly down the unlit hallway. At the sight of the golden eyes in the dark, his mood lifted exponentially.
"Yuki!" the wine-haired singer cried, sprinting down the hallway and flinging himself at the long-absent man, who's involuntary reaction was to step aside quickly. Shuichi crashed into the door, which had not been completely closed, and stumbled out into the hall. This did not deter him at all, and he leaped back in, forgetting to shut the door behind him. He then proceeded to glomp the correct brother, who staggered back a few paces as the weight of his lover was suddenly his duty to support. "Yuki's not angry at me for missing dinner!" Shuichi cried joyously, as if Yuki's good graces were the most important thing in the world.
Yuki blinked once, and stared down at the wine-haired bundle of energy that had suddenly been forced into his grasp, and the bundle looked up, his eyes suddenly becoming glassy and reserved.
"You are angry at me?" he asked pathetically, searching the taller man for some bit of information that would prove otherwise. Yuki blinked again, and without a word turned to go into the next room, where he might be able to get some work done, finally. He could almost see the younger boy deflating under the weight of his rejection, and so offered a final, almost inaudible phrase as he turned to go in.
"Of course not, brat." Shuichi's expression picked itself off the floor, and pasted itself back onto his face. He made as if to go after him into the room, but the door, as if hearing Shuichi's thought, closed with a derisive noise. He signed, and turned back towards the kitchen, where the cellist was looking at him with interest, a stone cold cup of tea in her hands. Having forgotten about her up until now, as he was embarassed to think, he moved into the kitchen and took a seat scross the table from her. Sensing that the conversation was not going to pick up off the floor as easily as Shuichi's expression, Hikari set the teacup down, and began to stand up. Suddenly stifling a yawn afer realizing exactly how late it was, she was halfway out the door before he stopped her.
"Machimasu, Yamashika-san." She sighed, and turned around. After this day, he was still being formal towards her. "Anou, it's really late." he said, pointing out on the clock on the wall that it was almost two thirty in the morning. "It would be rude of me to ask you to go back to your hotel at this time of night." Her eyebrow raised of its own accord, as she wondered if she was right in assuming that he was implying that she stay the night here. Shuichi noticed the slight facial twitch, and scratched his head in embarassment. "Would you like to sleep here tonight? I'm sure Yuki wouldn't mind," His face brightened slightly. "I could sleep on the floor, and you could take my spot on the couch!"
Hikari chuckled, and tugged a little on the tips of her sable hair that had somehow found its way over her shoulder.
"That would be rude of me, Shindou-san. I don't want to take up any more of your time and space than I already have... besides, that other person is still on the couch." she motioned towards Tatsuha, who, upon collapsing, had fallen asleep. He shook his head rather violently, pink strands of hair suddenly all over the place.
"It's a big couch, you won't be in the way, I promise!" he said, rather pleadingly. Hikari's resolve, which had already shown its weakness for the vocalist's puppy-esque expressions, dissapated, and she nodded slightly.
"Aa, I will stay then." she sighed, as she turned away slightly. If Shuichi had truly been a dog, his tail would have knocked over several pieces of furniture at that point. He grinned with success, but when the cellist didn't echo his expression, he tilted his head questioningly. She had taken on a serious quality, but that too proved itself to be only a mask when she turned back. "On one condition," she said, making it seem as if she had been the one renting out a space in her room. "You must stop calling me 'Yamashika-san.' Now that I have wormed my way in here enough to be allowed to sleep on the couch you must call me Hikari, ne?" He nodded with a smile in lieu of a phrase of agreement, as she left the kitchen for the half occupied couch to curl up.
"Hai, Hikari-chan." He waved a goodnight as she sat on the couch, pulling off her boots and curling up, using her arm as a pillow, and her discarded trenchcoat as a makeshift blanket. She had undoubetedly decided that asking for a pillow or blanket would have been more intrusive than she had already been, and had made do with what she had. "Oyasumi." He said finally. She nodded from the couch.
"Oyasumi, Shindou-san." He paused, and furrowed his brow, looking accusingly at the hypocrytical woman.
"If I'm going to call you Hikari, you should call me Shuichi!" He called righteously, and without waiting for an answer from the amused cellist who was occupying his spot on the couch, he stalked into the hall and rested his fingers lightly on the doorknob that would let him into the room where Yuki was undoubetedly typing away, not wanting to be disturbed.
______________________________________________
Shuichi took a deep breath, and then turned the knob, letting himself into the room. Yuki was indeed typing, though whether or not he wanted to be disturbed still remained to be seen. He was not graced with a glance from from the golden eyes of the man he had come in to see, but he came in anyway.
"I asked Yamashika-san..." he began, then shook his head slightly as he remembered, "Chigau, Hikari-chan," he remedied, "if she'd like to stay here for the night, because it's so late." Shuichi said, hoping beyond hope that Yuki wouldn't be cross with him. The object of his attention didn't flinch a bit as he turned to look up at the wine-haired boy.
"Hm." Yuki uttered eloquently, before turning back to his chapter, where the main character's girlfriend had just been taken. He had been thinking of a suitable way of the kidnappers to inform the main character when Shuichi had come in and interrupted his train of thought. Now, as the train pulled out of the station again, he wondered if he should have left a piece of the girl behind on the table as a weight to hold the note down, but then decided against it; too morbid.
"She's sleeping on the couch." Shuichi continued, and got an eyebrown raised at him for his troubles.
"Where do you propose to sleep?" queried Yuki, taking off his glasses for the moment, and leaving them on the table with a careless hand, using the thumb and middle finger of the other to run across his closed eyelids and pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache, which had been aggravated by the time of staring at the irksome white background of the screen, returning with a vengance
"On the floor." answered Shuichi, who was sitting on the floor by the desk. The wine-haired singer crawled across the floor, and rested his head on Yuki's knee, sighing as he did so. Unconciously, the writer's free hand came down ro rest on the younger boy's head, silently admiring the way his lover's unnaturally coloured hair slid easily between his fingers. Shuichi stifled a yawn from his comfortable position, and his eyes slowly closed until he could only half see out of them.
Yuki soon realized that he had not accomplished any of the things he had come home to do The cellist and his brother, who he had meant to kick out, were both sleeping on the sofa; and he hadn't gotten any good writing done.
Looking down at Shuichi, he then had another realization; at least he had accomplished one of his tasks.
Pretty soon, all variables considered, the comfortable position became a mite too comfortable, and exausted from his long day, Shuichi was lost to the waking world. Upon feeling the boy's body relax, Yuki sighed. 'On the floor indeed.' he thought wryly, unwilling to wake the peaceful Shuichi from his slumber. He reached out a hand, and turned off the laptop screen, his eyes passing across the bottle of pills for his headache. He began to reach for them, and then stopped, golden eyes looking down at the boy who's head was stationed quite comfortably on his knee.
Yuki pulled his hand back, and sat back in the chair. He could feel his leg falling asleep, but didn't care much. In spite of his earlier nap, he found himself getting a little tired, especially upon watching Shuichi fall asleep. He tilted his head back, resting it against the thankfully padded chair, and closed his eyes.
Shindou Shuichi snored a little on his knee...
Yuki Eiri didn't need his headache medicine.
______________________________________________
Notes: ^_^; I think the chapter was aptly named-and subtitled, though it didn't really come into play until the end. Thanks to everyone who gave such informative reviews! I always feel so encouraged and ready to write after receiving them. I guess you could continue Nakano-san's philosophy. A carrot for a horse, a live concert for a Shuichi, and a review for a Hikari!
Remember...
All the characters are copyright of Maki Murakami, as is the series as a whole (please don't sue me, I'm so poor I have to use flames to eat. ;.;), except for Kari-chan, who is mine. You're welcome to use her (Who would want to?) if you'd like *cough* just tell me beforehand, because I want to read whatever happens to have her in it.
The moral of the story is, there are no morals
a Gravitation fic by
Mitsukai
'Souls are strange beings. The move where they will and are yet confined within the contours of the body. Greeks thought the body the temple of the soul, where it dwelt freely. During the middle ages, it was thought that the body was the prison of the soul. It is hard to tell which is correct, in this day in age, though it seems to be elements of both. Yet when bouncing around on the pinball board of life and existence, certain souls find and attract others. There is no pattern in these kindred souls, perhaps they belong to man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, human and animal; each attraction and bonding is a special thing. In strange instances when a group of souls are brought together by one...
It is called Gravitation.'
_____________________________________________
Chapter VI - Prescription Drugs
And Their Non-Prescription Brethren...
______________________________________________
Five hours ago, Yuki Eiri had been with his doctor. Five hours hence, he was sitting on a park bench in the dark, staring at the cityscape below. The lights of Tokyo stared back at him, glaring unnaturally, blotting out the stars closest to the horizon. It was as if the sun was perpetually rising, and yet dawn never came.
It was rather ironic.
Every day in the morning, the unquenchable Shuichi jolted him awake with some sort of inane blather. Yet, no matter how many times he woke to his lover's cheerful face, he still lived his life in darkness.
This could be one of the reasons he was put on a stronger medication each time he went to visit the doctor. Being next to Shuichi had made him realize exactly how deep into the shadows of the night he was. The wine- haired boy had no doubt returned from whatever he had been doing all day by now, and might as well be working himself into a froth with worry about him. Worry and concern which he didn't deserve. Golden eyes closed, as if the weight of his mood had pulled his eyelids down, and he sighed, reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarretes that he normally kept handy.
Damn.
There weren't any there.
That plan shattered into small shards, Yuki contented himself with watching the eternal sunrise of Tokyo over the fences, thinking about other things than his growing want of a small, paper covered, filtered cyllinder. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think about was Shuichi.
That made him want a cigarrette more badly then he had before. Now that he was certain that none existed in his immidiate viscinity, he sat up; then lured his legs into supporting the rest of his lithe form. Walking forward, he leaned against the fence seperating him from the rest of the gaily lit Toyko.
Without looking at his watch, he hazarded that it was around two in the morning now. A cold wind swept past him, running icy fingers through his sun-kissed hair, which even now was dancing in the winds passing. Yuki sighed out into the chill air, watching uninterested as the warmth of his breath crystalized into a thin mist of vapour before dissapating.
He found himself turning away from the lights of the city layed out before him, and back into the velvet darkness of the path that was always welcome, for it coated the now constant throbbing of his headache with some protection that allowed him to shove the annoying feeling away. Walking along the path, his cellphone began to ring, and he almost hissed with annoyance as the grating sound beat against his head. Instead, his hand reached into his pocket to pull the offending object out. It was better to silence the ringing for now, he could always hang up after a few seconds of 'conversation' if he liked. Yuki no longer felt obliged to talk to anyone if he wasn't interested enough, and due to reasons of his own, he was no longer interested in much of anything besides meeting deadline after deadline; which reminded him that he had not gotten any work done today.
He pressed the button, and raised the phone to his ear, not giving any inclination that he was listening as he walked along.
"Eiri." came the voice. Another offensive sound, he was not in the mood to be chastised by his sister for his relationship with Shuichi, or hearing anything else she might happen to say. He didn't respond, and Mika, who was used to the attitude of her otouto, proceeded to talk. "Tatsuha is at your house?" It was less of a question than a statement. She obviously knew this was so, and was calling him up for confirmation. Yuki did not dignify her with an answer, yet she continued. "I heard that there was a younger woman at your house, what are you doing with a-..." He turned off the phone, and dropped it back into his pocket.
So the cellist was still there. He puffed out a bit of breath, and decided that he had better go back to the house and tell her to go back to her hotel room; his house was crowded enough with Shuichi living there. The younger boy's frame was small, yet he took up much more emotional space than anyone the writer knew. He killed a small smile before it even got close to ghosting his lips; he wasn't going home to see Shuichi, but to kick his brother and that girl out.
However, contrary to his own statements, Yuki stepped just a little lighter as his feet treaded the path that would take him back to his place.
______________________________________________
Hikari stirred her rapidly cooling tea with a small spoon, and watched intently as the tea leaves on the bottom wafted around gently with the current she was making. Shuichi, she knew, was still curled on one half of the couch, with Tatsuha lying prone on the other half. Therefore, when the door opened with a soft click, she was the first to notice. Shuichi was right behind her, and Tatsuha had not even registered for the race.
The door opened with a soft creak, and a shoe scuffed quietly against the paneled floor. Shuichi immediately raised his head, amethyst eyes suddenly searching in the darkness for the person he knew instinctively was there. He slid off the couch and walked slowly to the center of the room where he could see directly down the unlit hallway. At the sight of the golden eyes in the dark, his mood lifted exponentially.
"Yuki!" the wine-haired singer cried, sprinting down the hallway and flinging himself at the long-absent man, who's involuntary reaction was to step aside quickly. Shuichi crashed into the door, which had not been completely closed, and stumbled out into the hall. This did not deter him at all, and he leaped back in, forgetting to shut the door behind him. He then proceeded to glomp the correct brother, who staggered back a few paces as the weight of his lover was suddenly his duty to support. "Yuki's not angry at me for missing dinner!" Shuichi cried joyously, as if Yuki's good graces were the most important thing in the world.
Yuki blinked once, and stared down at the wine-haired bundle of energy that had suddenly been forced into his grasp, and the bundle looked up, his eyes suddenly becoming glassy and reserved.
"You are angry at me?" he asked pathetically, searching the taller man for some bit of information that would prove otherwise. Yuki blinked again, and without a word turned to go into the next room, where he might be able to get some work done, finally. He could almost see the younger boy deflating under the weight of his rejection, and so offered a final, almost inaudible phrase as he turned to go in.
"Of course not, brat." Shuichi's expression picked itself off the floor, and pasted itself back onto his face. He made as if to go after him into the room, but the door, as if hearing Shuichi's thought, closed with a derisive noise. He signed, and turned back towards the kitchen, where the cellist was looking at him with interest, a stone cold cup of tea in her hands. Having forgotten about her up until now, as he was embarassed to think, he moved into the kitchen and took a seat scross the table from her. Sensing that the conversation was not going to pick up off the floor as easily as Shuichi's expression, Hikari set the teacup down, and began to stand up. Suddenly stifling a yawn afer realizing exactly how late it was, she was halfway out the door before he stopped her.
"Machimasu, Yamashika-san." She sighed, and turned around. After this day, he was still being formal towards her. "Anou, it's really late." he said, pointing out on the clock on the wall that it was almost two thirty in the morning. "It would be rude of me to ask you to go back to your hotel at this time of night." Her eyebrow raised of its own accord, as she wondered if she was right in assuming that he was implying that she stay the night here. Shuichi noticed the slight facial twitch, and scratched his head in embarassment. "Would you like to sleep here tonight? I'm sure Yuki wouldn't mind," His face brightened slightly. "I could sleep on the floor, and you could take my spot on the couch!"
Hikari chuckled, and tugged a little on the tips of her sable hair that had somehow found its way over her shoulder.
"That would be rude of me, Shindou-san. I don't want to take up any more of your time and space than I already have... besides, that other person is still on the couch." she motioned towards Tatsuha, who, upon collapsing, had fallen asleep. He shook his head rather violently, pink strands of hair suddenly all over the place.
"It's a big couch, you won't be in the way, I promise!" he said, rather pleadingly. Hikari's resolve, which had already shown its weakness for the vocalist's puppy-esque expressions, dissapated, and she nodded slightly.
"Aa, I will stay then." she sighed, as she turned away slightly. If Shuichi had truly been a dog, his tail would have knocked over several pieces of furniture at that point. He grinned with success, but when the cellist didn't echo his expression, he tilted his head questioningly. She had taken on a serious quality, but that too proved itself to be only a mask when she turned back. "On one condition," she said, making it seem as if she had been the one renting out a space in her room. "You must stop calling me 'Yamashika-san.' Now that I have wormed my way in here enough to be allowed to sleep on the couch you must call me Hikari, ne?" He nodded with a smile in lieu of a phrase of agreement, as she left the kitchen for the half occupied couch to curl up.
"Hai, Hikari-chan." He waved a goodnight as she sat on the couch, pulling off her boots and curling up, using her arm as a pillow, and her discarded trenchcoat as a makeshift blanket. She had undoubetedly decided that asking for a pillow or blanket would have been more intrusive than she had already been, and had made do with what she had. "Oyasumi." He said finally. She nodded from the couch.
"Oyasumi, Shindou-san." He paused, and furrowed his brow, looking accusingly at the hypocrytical woman.
"If I'm going to call you Hikari, you should call me Shuichi!" He called righteously, and without waiting for an answer from the amused cellist who was occupying his spot on the couch, he stalked into the hall and rested his fingers lightly on the doorknob that would let him into the room where Yuki was undoubetedly typing away, not wanting to be disturbed.
______________________________________________
Shuichi took a deep breath, and then turned the knob, letting himself into the room. Yuki was indeed typing, though whether or not he wanted to be disturbed still remained to be seen. He was not graced with a glance from from the golden eyes of the man he had come in to see, but he came in anyway.
"I asked Yamashika-san..." he began, then shook his head slightly as he remembered, "Chigau, Hikari-chan," he remedied, "if she'd like to stay here for the night, because it's so late." Shuichi said, hoping beyond hope that Yuki wouldn't be cross with him. The object of his attention didn't flinch a bit as he turned to look up at the wine-haired boy.
"Hm." Yuki uttered eloquently, before turning back to his chapter, where the main character's girlfriend had just been taken. He had been thinking of a suitable way of the kidnappers to inform the main character when Shuichi had come in and interrupted his train of thought. Now, as the train pulled out of the station again, he wondered if he should have left a piece of the girl behind on the table as a weight to hold the note down, but then decided against it; too morbid.
"She's sleeping on the couch." Shuichi continued, and got an eyebrown raised at him for his troubles.
"Where do you propose to sleep?" queried Yuki, taking off his glasses for the moment, and leaving them on the table with a careless hand, using the thumb and middle finger of the other to run across his closed eyelids and pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache, which had been aggravated by the time of staring at the irksome white background of the screen, returning with a vengance
"On the floor." answered Shuichi, who was sitting on the floor by the desk. The wine-haired singer crawled across the floor, and rested his head on Yuki's knee, sighing as he did so. Unconciously, the writer's free hand came down ro rest on the younger boy's head, silently admiring the way his lover's unnaturally coloured hair slid easily between his fingers. Shuichi stifled a yawn from his comfortable position, and his eyes slowly closed until he could only half see out of them.
Yuki soon realized that he had not accomplished any of the things he had come home to do The cellist and his brother, who he had meant to kick out, were both sleeping on the sofa; and he hadn't gotten any good writing done.
Looking down at Shuichi, he then had another realization; at least he had accomplished one of his tasks.
Pretty soon, all variables considered, the comfortable position became a mite too comfortable, and exausted from his long day, Shuichi was lost to the waking world. Upon feeling the boy's body relax, Yuki sighed. 'On the floor indeed.' he thought wryly, unwilling to wake the peaceful Shuichi from his slumber. He reached out a hand, and turned off the laptop screen, his eyes passing across the bottle of pills for his headache. He began to reach for them, and then stopped, golden eyes looking down at the boy who's head was stationed quite comfortably on his knee.
Yuki pulled his hand back, and sat back in the chair. He could feel his leg falling asleep, but didn't care much. In spite of his earlier nap, he found himself getting a little tired, especially upon watching Shuichi fall asleep. He tilted his head back, resting it against the thankfully padded chair, and closed his eyes.
Shindou Shuichi snored a little on his knee...
Yuki Eiri didn't need his headache medicine.
______________________________________________
Notes: ^_^; I think the chapter was aptly named-and subtitled, though it didn't really come into play until the end. Thanks to everyone who gave such informative reviews! I always feel so encouraged and ready to write after receiving them. I guess you could continue Nakano-san's philosophy. A carrot for a horse, a live concert for a Shuichi, and a review for a Hikari!
Remember...
All the characters are copyright of Maki Murakami, as is the series as a whole (please don't sue me, I'm so poor I have to use flames to eat. ;.;), except for Kari-chan, who is mine. You're welcome to use her (Who would want to?) if you'd like *cough* just tell me beforehand, because I want to read whatever happens to have her in it.
The moral of the story is, there are no morals
