Trust
By Nix
Disclaimers: I don't own Gravitation
The worst kind of lonely is wishing to reach out, to touch, not being able to cross some invisible line in one's own head.
The therapist stared quietly at Yuki. "And why can't you do this thing?"
Yuki didn't want any more medications. He didn't want something that he couldn't explain. He wanted. He wanted something he couldn't explain. "Why should I do this thing?"
"Because it is truly what you wish to do," she said softly, the sound of her pen flowing over the paper almost louder than her words. "You know whom you wish to trust."
"I'll ruin him," Eiri whispered, studying the bland white ceiling for all he was worth. "He's too valuable to me."
"Eiri," his therapist said, changing the tone of their session, transgressing some boundary that he'd put in place between them long ago. "Eiri, you went to New York and you nearly chose not to live. Now you are here, but you can't go home. Home is too dark and to familiar with grief. You are brave, Eiri. Go to him and ask him to call you by your name. Ask him to go with you into this new place of understanding. As Aretha did in your last book. You want to make that journey on your own, do you not?"
"Shuichi is an idiot." Yuki said coldly, but it felt as if he were trying to drown himself, crushing his own heart as he said it.
"We have agreed not to lie to each other. Do you really feel your lover is an idiot?"
"No." Yuki closed his eyes. "I'm going to have a panic attack right now though. We need to cut this session short."
His therapist nodded. "Are you going to do it then?"
The panic attack grabbed Yuki then, tingles up the back of his neck, breath that wouldn't come. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the couch and gripped it with both hands. If he wasn't careful, he'd forget how to breath all the way. "I can't live like this!"
"Do you want me to write you another prescription, Yuki-san?"
"No." He swallowed, closed his eyes and imagined that picture of them, of Shuichi so full of life, bouncing like a maniac behind him, imagined Shuichi's voice and words and he combed his hair back, great messy blond history. It was hair that he always wrote about, in his novels, people with beautiful hair and beautiful eyes, and beautiful tragic lives that always came out happy by 'The End'. He wasn't like that. Every day he woke up and it still hurt. What he'd done was like a vampire, sucking away any life he might have.
It was Shuichi pouring life into him, like the sun pouring energy into some damn plant that had been locked in the closet. The sunlight was there. Life was there. He just had to open the god damn closet door!
"How do I open the door? You're so smart. How do I get out of the closet," he asked her, not expecting her to answer or have any idea what he was talking about.
She'd been his therapist for a long time though, and many other clients before there was a Yuki Eiri. "Forgive yourself, Uesugi Eiri. Trust in at least one person."
"Forgive?" He looked up, only then realizing that he'd bowed his head. "Forgive? Uesugi Eiri is dead."
"No, he's not. He comes to see me every week at just this time. Trust and forgiveness, Eiri. Give someone your name."
It was bullshit and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't live like this. "That's it? That's all you've got to say after all the money I've paid you?"
She smiled, eyes too plain to be in a romance novel, and yet there was something in them that woke something in him, that cracked that door just a little. "Try it."
He stood up then, running thoughtful fingers over the stubble on his cheek. It had been two days since he'd been home. He hadn't even called Shuichi, but he knew that his lover would be estatic to see him, would rush him and wrap him in his arms. Quite suddenly, he wanted that, wanted Shuichi's embrace, his sunlight. "Next week," Yuki said.
Once in his car, Yuki pulled out his phone, dialed the number for Shuichi's mobile phone with his thumb. It rang and rang and the light turned green and it rang on more. Each ring was like the light from the crack of the door getting smaller, dimmer. Finally he closed and threw it against the passenger door. Trust? What was trust? He brought his sunglasses forward and hit the gas.
Middle of the day, he hit the on ramp and sailed towards the coast. He didn't know where he to go, or why, just not here, not alone, not with lies. The panic attack was coming back and he wished it would just kill him, just . something.
Police lights slowed him though and he pulled over, running senarios through his head. 'Popular Novelist Shot in Police Misunderstanding' 'Formerly Popular Novelist Arrested for Excessive Speeding Tickets.' When the police officer got to his window, he smiled at him and handed him his driver's license.
Then the phone started ringing.
"You can answer that, Yuki-san," the man said, pleasantly smiling before continuing with his ticket.
He didn't want to answer it though. Still he leaned over and picked the thing up. He didn't want to police officer to think he was as upset as he was. 'Novelist Confined in Mental Hospital' was not going to be a headline any time soon. "Moshi Moshi."
"YUKI! Where are you? Oh Yuki! I saw your number and I called right back! Suguru had my phone and he didn't answer it! Yuki! Where are you? I miss you so much!"
Yuki held the phone from his hear a bit and the police officer was trying not to laugh. "Yuki-san, my wife reads your books and my son has posters with your partner all over his bed room. I have to give you the ticket, but I didn't write it for 102, only for 85. Would you please give me your autograph?"
"YUKI? A hundred and 102?!"
Yuki groaned, but in that groan.. he found the door to the closet open, light filling his space. He found maybe not forgiveness, but a reason to value himself and a trust in his pink haired partner. He held up a finger to the police officer. "Shuichi, take a week from work, go to the coast with me?"
"Yeah, sure Yuki, anything you want. Pick me up at NG?" Confusion, but acceptance hung in Shuichi's voice and whatever was with Shuichi's phone, Yuki could hear Suguru groaning about needed to rehearse in the back ground.
"I will be there. I want to talk to you, tell you everything," he said, still holding his finger up to the get the police officer to wait. Silently he added, to Shuichi, 'I want to tell you my real name, because I trust you.'
After he closed the connection with Shuichi, he gave the police officer two autographs and shoved the speeding ticket in the glove box with the other two. He'd pay them, soon even. Today though, he was going to pay for the sunlight with a little trust.
The worst kind of lonely is wishing to reach out, to touch, not being able to cross some invisible line in one's own head.
The therapist stared quietly at Yuki. "And why can't you do this thing?"
Yuki didn't want any more medications. He didn't want something that he couldn't explain. He wanted. He wanted something he couldn't explain. "Why should I do this thing?"
"Because it is truly what you wish to do," she said softly, the sound of her pen flowing over the paper almost louder than her words. "You know whom you wish to trust."
"I'll ruin him," Eiri whispered, studying the bland white ceiling for all he was worth. "He's too valuable to me."
"Eiri," his therapist said, changing the tone of their session, transgressing some boundary that he'd put in place between them long ago. "Eiri, you went to New York and you nearly chose not to live. Now you are here, but you can't go home. Home is too dark and to familiar with grief. You are brave, Eiri. Go to him and ask him to call you by your name. Ask him to go with you into this new place of understanding. As Aretha did in your last book. You want to make that journey on your own, do you not?"
"Shuichi is an idiot." Yuki said coldly, but it felt as if he were trying to drown himself, crushing his own heart as he said it.
"We have agreed not to lie to each other. Do you really feel your lover is an idiot?"
"No." Yuki closed his eyes. "I'm going to have a panic attack right now though. We need to cut this session short."
His therapist nodded. "Are you going to do it then?"
The panic attack grabbed Yuki then, tingles up the back of his neck, breath that wouldn't come. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the couch and gripped it with both hands. If he wasn't careful, he'd forget how to breath all the way. "I can't live like this!"
"Do you want me to write you another prescription, Yuki-san?"
"No." He swallowed, closed his eyes and imagined that picture of them, of Shuichi so full of life, bouncing like a maniac behind him, imagined Shuichi's voice and words and he combed his hair back, great messy blond history. It was hair that he always wrote about, in his novels, people with beautiful hair and beautiful eyes, and beautiful tragic lives that always came out happy by 'The End'. He wasn't like that. Every day he woke up and it still hurt. What he'd done was like a vampire, sucking away any life he might have.
It was Shuichi pouring life into him, like the sun pouring energy into some damn plant that had been locked in the closet. The sunlight was there. Life was there. He just had to open the god damn closet door!
"How do I open the door? You're so smart. How do I get out of the closet," he asked her, not expecting her to answer or have any idea what he was talking about.
She'd been his therapist for a long time though, and many other clients before there was a Yuki Eiri. "Forgive yourself, Uesugi Eiri. Trust in at least one person."
"Forgive?" He looked up, only then realizing that he'd bowed his head. "Forgive? Uesugi Eiri is dead."
"No, he's not. He comes to see me every week at just this time. Trust and forgiveness, Eiri. Give someone your name."
It was bullshit and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't live like this. "That's it? That's all you've got to say after all the money I've paid you?"
She smiled, eyes too plain to be in a romance novel, and yet there was something in them that woke something in him, that cracked that door just a little. "Try it."
He stood up then, running thoughtful fingers over the stubble on his cheek. It had been two days since he'd been home. He hadn't even called Shuichi, but he knew that his lover would be estatic to see him, would rush him and wrap him in his arms. Quite suddenly, he wanted that, wanted Shuichi's embrace, his sunlight. "Next week," Yuki said.
Once in his car, Yuki pulled out his phone, dialed the number for Shuichi's mobile phone with his thumb. It rang and rang and the light turned green and it rang on more. Each ring was like the light from the crack of the door getting smaller, dimmer. Finally he closed and threw it against the passenger door. Trust? What was trust? He brought his sunglasses forward and hit the gas.
Middle of the day, he hit the on ramp and sailed towards the coast. He didn't know where he to go, or why, just not here, not alone, not with lies. The panic attack was coming back and he wished it would just kill him, just . something.
Police lights slowed him though and he pulled over, running senarios through his head. 'Popular Novelist Shot in Police Misunderstanding' 'Formerly Popular Novelist Arrested for Excessive Speeding Tickets.' When the police officer got to his window, he smiled at him and handed him his driver's license.
Then the phone started ringing.
"You can answer that, Yuki-san," the man said, pleasantly smiling before continuing with his ticket.
He didn't want to answer it though. Still he leaned over and picked the thing up. He didn't want to police officer to think he was as upset as he was. 'Novelist Confined in Mental Hospital' was not going to be a headline any time soon. "Moshi Moshi."
"YUKI! Where are you? Oh Yuki! I saw your number and I called right back! Suguru had my phone and he didn't answer it! Yuki! Where are you? I miss you so much!"
Yuki held the phone from his hear a bit and the police officer was trying not to laugh. "Yuki-san, my wife reads your books and my son has posters with your partner all over his bed room. I have to give you the ticket, but I didn't write it for 102, only for 85. Would you please give me your autograph?"
"YUKI? A hundred and 102?!"
Yuki groaned, but in that groan.. he found the door to the closet open, light filling his space. He found maybe not forgiveness, but a reason to value himself and a trust in his pink haired partner. He held up a finger to the police officer. "Shuichi, take a week from work, go to the coast with me?"
"Yeah, sure Yuki, anything you want. Pick me up at NG?" Confusion, but acceptance hung in Shuichi's voice and whatever was with Shuichi's phone, Yuki could hear Suguru groaning about needed to rehearse in the back ground.
"I will be there. I want to talk to you, tell you everything," he said, still holding his finger up to the get the police officer to wait. Silently he added, to Shuichi, 'I want to tell you my real name, because I trust you.'
After he closed the connection with Shuichi, he gave the police officer two autographs and shoved the speeding ticket in the glove box with the other two. He'd pay them, soon even. Today though, he was going to pay for the sunlight with a little trust.