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.'



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Chapter VIII - Hubris and Até

As Well As the Nemesis That Invariably Follows Both

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Shindou Shuichi emerged from the NG building several hours after he had planned to leave. Wincing, he reached a hand up to the back of his neck and massaged it gently, the muscles tense from hours upon hours of typing lyrics over and over until they were satisfactory in the hawk-like, ice blue eyes of his manager, K. When they had been read over silently, and were met with a wide grin instead of the foreboding chak of a gun being readied, he was free to go. Unfortunately, it was now the middle of the night.

The wind blew peevishly, and with that one breath a fine ice gathered along the minute hairs on his back of his neck, causing them to stand on end in protest. The vocalist shivered unconciously. He should have worn a heavier jacket than his delightfully bright orange windbreaker today. Then again, he hadn't had any idea it would take this long. Forcing his wine coloured head into the wind, he stomped purposefully in the general direction of Yuki's residence, hoping that there would be no cause for him to look up.

Winter was slowly and invariable coming, he decided, as another blast of wind ruffled through his baby-fine hair, causing his scalp to prickle in annoyance, no doubt wondering why Shuichi was out in this weather instead of curled up at home on the couch. It was a good question, yet as of now unanswerable, for the vocalist himself didn't know.

He put a bit more energy into his steps, pressing forward through the crossly gusting wind. While his body stepped automatically, too numbed by the sudden frost that seeped malevolently through the thin fabric of his windbreaker to do much else, his thoughts wandered to different, warmer places. 'I wonder,' he thought, 'if Yuki'll remember what he said earlier.' The slow flush that creeped up into his face warmed his cheeks slightly; they tingled with little pin and needle pricks as the cold fought valiently for its place. Finally the cold surrendered, and Shuichi pressed his palms to his cheeks, leeching a little of the warm army into his hands to battle the little frost dragons that were incessantly nipping at his fingers.

Finally, when even the heat of his face had fought a losing battle, he made it back to the dubious shelter of the apartment. His nibbled fingers fumbled for the icy, metal key in his pocket, and found it with only a bit of trouble. It grated against the edges of the lock, as the cold-clumsy Shuichi attempted to insert it correctly. He grumbled, and finally drove it home, turning the icy thing and letting himself into the warmer hallway of the apartment complex. He sighed, and stood still for a moment, taking the key from the door, and cringing as its now foreign temperature contacted his slowly warming appendage. Slipping it into his pocket, he rubbed his hand futily on the slippery surface of his jacket, and made his way to the elevator.

Shuichi stepped out a few floors up, waiting for the doors to close before shuffling to the door of the apartment, where another key was fumbled out of his pocket, and inserted successfully into the lock, whereupon it was turned, and granted him access to the apartment.

The door creaked as he let himself in, and the pink-haired boy looked around silently, before closing the door behind him, and venturing farther in.

"Yuki...?" He called quietly, peering into the kitchen. The light was on, but no one seemed to be in residence. "Hikari-chan?" He wondered, padding across the wooden floor to peek into the living area. When nobody answered, he scratched his head, blinking in innocent surprise. "There's nobody here."

The cellist being gone he could understand, she had said she was going back to the hotel to get her things. Why it was taking her so long, he didn't know, but Yuki; Yuki should be here.

Shuichi planted a fist in his hand with a crack of flesh against flesh, and amiably watched it grow.

"I know, maybe Yuki is asleep." he concluded, "I bet he was working all day." So saying, he walked out of the living room, and towards the bedroom, pausing a moment before opening the door.

He was so focused and intent on being quiet so as not to wake his sleeping lover, that he didn't notice the door to the study swing open with a soft sound of wind wisping across the floor, followed by the almost inaudible padding of feet against the same polished wood floor his own feet had just graced.

Shuichi stopped his entrance into the darkened room as he began to feel the presence of someone behind him, with that almost palapable feel of Yuki-ness to it. He spun on his heel, breath escaping him the way it always did when held in the stare of those calculating golden eyes. He stood there for a moment, captured like a wild animal in the golden glow of an oncoming car, before breaking the silence with a short chuckle,

"Aah, gomen Yuki, I thought you were a-..." Whatever else he had meant to say with his lips was silenced. They were his lips no longer, as the writer had taken possession of them with his own, pressing forward in that abrupt, unexplainable manner that he had in so many other things. Dimly, Shuichi could feel the tingling in his cheeks return, this time from his lover's hand sliding up to cup his cheek softly.

Pulling back, Yuki frowned, gently rubbing Shuichi's cheek with the rough pad of his thumb.

"You've been in the cold too long." he stated simply, dropping his hand from the vocalist's cheek, and walking past him into the bedroom.

"Aa, but-..." protested the wine-haired vocalist weakly, raising his hand to the tingling traces on his face.

"Come in here and warm up." interrupted Yuki again, from the velvet darkness of the room beyond.

Shuichi had no reason not to comply.

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The morning came too soon for its own good, and the peacefully sleeping Shuichi was woken by the crisp rustling of the final few leaves on the ground being swirled into miniature cyclones at the discretion of the plaful, albeit frigid, wind. The birds that remained sung sweetly outside the window, and beams of light from the bright, distant, orb of the sun lay softly across the tangled sheets.

Yawning, he sat up, turning to look at the man lying next to him, who was peacefully sleeping on his stomach, the skewed locks of golden hair on his head only serving to give him nore of an attractive vagabond appearance. He smiled quietly, and then hauled himself with a groan out of the bed that was looking more an more comfortable with each passing minute. He didn't dare stay though. Last time he overslept, he woke up breathing a pillow instead of the oxygen that his lungs could feasibly process.

Gathering the various articles of clothing that he could identify as his, he snuck quietly from the room, replacing the door with a quiet click, and sneaking quietly off to the closet to procure some new clothing for the day ahead.

Once he was presentable enough for the outside world, he seated himself on the couch; and finally noticed that Hikari still wasn't in residence, when the cellist didn't grumble and kick him experimentally. He furrowed his brow in thought, and decided that she must have stayed in the hotel, because it was too late.

He turned on the televi, and saw that the followup press conference was already underway. To his surprise, the cellist herself was on the program, sitting to the left of her erstwhile owner. Instead of her trenchcoat she wore a high-necked, long sleeved shirt, though the colour was still that unrelieved black she seemed to favour. Shuichi sighed, wondering why anyone would want to wear that sort of colour instead of something more vibrant. Like his clothes, for example. However he had no time to fixate on that, Tokuru-san was harumphing into the microphone, clearing his throat so that his intensely persuasive voice could filter out into the crowd.

"Everyone, I am quite pleased to see that what I had expected to happen has happened!" He chuckled slightly and leaned over, laying a hand 'gently' on Hikari's shoulder. She flinched, and looked away, expression unresponsive. Tokuru's shoulders shook as if he was laughing, and then he turned back to the press. "Yamashika Hikari-san has been... persuaded to come back to SoundSoft Tokyo." Flashbulbs went off, and the now exorbitantly passive woman narrowed her eyes as if she wanted to hiss, but made no objections.

Shuichi was gaping, hadn't she just signed with NG? Of all the nerve. Miffed, he jumped off the couch, intent on telling Yuki what was happening on the televi.

"Yuuuuuki~! You won't believe what just happened!" the energetic song-slinger almost ran down the door in his hurry to relate his newest discovery. Flinging open the offending wooden obstruction he leaped into the room, fist flung into the air.

"Uhfrg." groaned Yuki, obviously enthralled by Shuichi's inane babble.

"Tokuru-san said that Hikari-chan'll be playing for SoundSoft again! Right after she signed with NG last night too!" He huffed indignantly.

The writer sat up slowly, and then fixed Shuichi in his gaze again, becoming slightly amused by the effect it had on the younger man.

"Did he." it wasn't really a question, just a statement. He sat up, his customary white shirt hanging loosely off him. When Shuichi had left earlier in the morning, he had taken the opportunity to scrounge around on the floor for something suitable to wear. He would have gotten up earlier, but for some reason, he had felt about as lazy as a cat, who had spent all day in the sunshine.

However, this last statement was vaguely troubling to him, and so he pried himself out of bed, sure that there would be some noise like a spoon popping out of treacle or some other grotesque sound. When none came he walked past Shuichi to the living area, the younger man following behind in his footsteps like a faithful dog.

The televi was still on, and Hikari had been goaded into speaking now.

"I... have come to the decision, that I made the wrong choice... in leaving SoundSoft." she was saying, glancing at her 'president' out of the corner of her eye every time she started a phrase. He was smiling smugly, and she paused for a moment, wincing as his hand tightened on her shoulder, though his reptillian smile stayed firmly in place. "I... will continue playing for them as the president so nicely... suggested."

The writer stared impassively at the screen as reporters started to shout questions, each barking further and further up the wrong tree, inventing reasons for her relapse that had nothing to do with it at all. In all appearances, she appeared to be smiling thinly, though her eyes were obviously clouded with fatigue, pain, and fear.

"See, Yuki, look!" Shuichi barked, pointing at the screen as if the newly awakened writer couldn't see it. "I told you she went back to SoundSoft. Can you imagine-"

"Be quiet, brat." he intoned, settling back onto the couch. That high-necked shirt she was wearing, perfect for disguising unsightly bruises. The way she winced every time that Tokuru person touched her, her tired face, and her pain filled eyes.

That girl had been beaten into this, he was sure of it.

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She stared impassively into the croud of reporters clamouring for her attention, her mind looping back to the events leading up to this hellish conclusion.

When she awoke in the hotel, she couldn't remember anything. Hanakara Tokuru stood over her prone form, a triumphant smirk on his face. He said something that she couldn't remember, and she had spat at him. He wiped it off, taking the smirk with it, and glowered.



if I can't have you, nobody will.



He had wrapped his pitiless hands about her neck again, squeezing out all the breath that she had managed to restore. And then-

Flash, click.

Those damn bulbs.

"Actually," she began, throwing the blanket of silence across the room, "I have already signed with N-..." That look again. Like cold steel. She was silenced in an instant, the words freezing in her still bruised throat and sticking like thorns in her mouth. The president turned his gaze out to the waiting press, who were hanging on his every word, like monkeys on a vine... or hangmen on a noose...

A sobering thought. Just when one thought one wasn't going to drop, someone else pulled the lever, and your feet were dangling in mid-air.

"I believe my cellist is tired." He cooed, his voice softer and oilier than a down pillow covered in honey. "This ends the press conference. Thank you all for being here with me." He bowed stiffly at the waist, and then shot her another poison-tipped glance, latching onto her wrist as he pulled her forcefully out.

But nobody argued with Hanakara Tokuru-san.

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"Hai, this is Seguchi Tohma... Ah, Eiri-san! How wonderful of you to call me." The president of NG leaned back in his chair, pleased that he had called. One slim hand doodled yet another signiature, his cheek pressed against the phone to hold it in place.

"...Why would I be watching the SoundSoft press conference? Should I have?"

He stopped doodling, emerald eyes widening imperceptibly.

"...I see. Thank you for informing me, Eiri-san." As usual, the writer had hung up without any semblance of a closing statement, leaving the president to think. The cellist was, after all, just another asset to NG, no matter how talented she was. However, Hanakaru and he had had a slight dissagreement at one time, about how one gets musicians to play for one.

If Eiri-san was right, and Tohma had no reason to doubt it, his old... 'friend' was still following the choke and appropriate method, which he wouldn't countenance. Especially when it was one of his signed members.

Picking up the phone, he punched in a few numbers, and let it ring.

Some things, like ASK, had to be removed.

Some things, like Hanakara Tokuru had to be eaten away at.

Seguchi Tohma was not a rat that one can sneeze at.

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Notes: How was it? Awful? I thought so. x.x; Many, many, apologies for the rushed ending, but my writers block bit me bum right at the end.

Anyway, I have a new feature to introduce.

Whenever I weite a chapter that contains the possibility for a lemon, I'll give a little star thing at the end of the notes, like this [`~*~`]. This chapter was the very first!

So the new rule is, since I'm a bit apprehensive about writing lemons, I've decided to put this into effect. If I receive five or more reviews concerning the writing/production of the Yuki/Shuichi lemon for this chapter, I'll write it and post it, with a little thanks(?) note to the first five people to comment on it.

I'm not scrounging for reviews or anything, I feel quite gifted by the ones I've already received (Arigatou!) It just... I need a little carrot to push me to write the scene.

Kisses!

+.Mitsukai.+

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