Eaten while writing: chocolate cookies, cheese sandwitches, lots of strawberry youghhhhhhyrt. Yes. Pretend you're interested.

Uhh, here you go. Enjoy.

Love me tender

Chapter two

Yuki Eiri woke up, this time to the dull but persistent bounding against the inside of his skull. And really, to "wake up" wasn't a very fitting expression in this case, it was more like his conciousness was slowly returning to him, more or less reluctantly.

When able ro finally put together some sort of coherent thought he cautiously lifted one eyelid, then the other, and silently thanked god that someone (whoever it had been, he had no idea) had been merciful enough to close the shutters so that his abused eyes were mostly saved from the piercing light of morning sun. The salt of dried tears clung to his eyelashes. He remembered being curled up on the sofa the night before, slowly rocking himself back and forth, but after that his mind was a total blanc.

Although Eiri hadn't been this hungover in ages, his abilities of logic thinking were (amazingly enough) almost intact, and he was getting the idea he'd gotten himself wasted beyond belief. He propped himself on one elbow and bright spots of light bloomed behind his eyes with sharp, stabbing pain through his temples.

Oh joy.

Evidence of last night's activities lay scattered across the floor in the form of dozens of beer cans, a few empty cigarette packs and lots of holes burned on the fitted carpet.

Yuki ran a hand through his messy, platinum fringe, groping for the pack of smokes he kept on the nightstand with the other in the dim light of the bedroom. Finding it and pulling out one he proceeded to look for a lighter, and after a few pointless attempts he just tucked the cigarette behind his ear and dragged himself off to the bathroom.

Yuki squinted his eyes at the cold, white light of the bathroom and leaned closer to the mirror.

He looked a real mess. And really that's what he felt like too, with his blonde hair all tangled up and random strands pointing around in most unlikely angles, eyes red and tingling, and his left cheek bruised and slightly swollen where Tohma had hit him. He gingerly touched the corner of his mouth and immediately flinched at the touch. And the memory.

It hurt just as much.

Yuki splashed his face with cold water in order to fully wake up, and when he closed the tap he heard a quiet sound, not very unlike snoring, coming from behind the shower curtain that was pulled shut.

Snoring?

He pulled on the curtain so hard the whole thing almost came crashing down, and found Shuichi sleeping in the empty bathtub behind it, cheeks streaked with tears and completely naked. Yuki's eyes went wide.

There were bruises all over Shuichi's body, in colors ranging from black to purplish red, and they made a horrible contrast against his ivory skin.

What the hell have I done?

Yuki stumbled out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. On the counter was lying a lighter, and he picked it up, pulled out the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with trembling hands. He took a drag and sat down shakily, burying his face in his hands.

Shuichi was slowly coming to in the bathroom, his body aching like hell and vision bleary. At first he saw nothing but white and actually thought he had died since he most definitely felt like he had, but then the square-shaped tiles were starting to take shape in front of his eyes and he remembered what had happened.

He'd been on his way home from NG studios after a long day and it had already been dark outside. It'd been raining, the kind of drizzle that wasn't enough to form puddles but could soak you through in a few minutes. Light from the streetlamps had reflected on the wet ground. Shuichi's mirror image had followed him in perfect synch with his steps, feet bounding on the wet aspfalt as he'd run.

It'd been well past 10pm, and Shuichi had always been a bit scared of walking outside alone after dark, so he'd decided to hurry. Besides he missed Yuki, but that was nothing new.

"Yuki! I'm home!" he'd shouted as he busted in. There'd been no response, but then, there rarely was.

Shuichi had shrugged off his wet coat and gone to the living room, where Yuki had been sitting on the sofa, holding a can of beer in his hand. The TV had been on and Yuki had held the remote control on his other hand, and though he'd seemed to be watching the screen, his eyes had been somehow glazed over.

Shuichi had found this strange, since usually at this time Yuki was still working, and lately he'd been even busier with his deadlines than usual.

"Yuki?" he'd asked tentatively, but this hadn't caused any kind of reaction in the blonde, so he'd just gone to the the kitchen and fetched himself a soda from the fridge.

When he'd gone back to the the living room and plopped down on the sofa, Yuki had seemed to notice him for the first time. And this had been when Shuichi had realized the reason for Yuki's strange behaviour; he'd just never seen his lover so utterly drunk before.

Yuki's attention had seemed to be fixed on the droplets of water, dripping from Shuichi's wet hair and running down his face, the line of his chin, down his neck and finally disappearing under the loose collar of his shirt.

Although the hunger in Yuki's eyes had been obvious, Shuichi had waited for him to take the initiative. Because he always did. That's just the way it worked with them.

Yuki's cigarette was slowly turning to grey flakes of ash, scattering on the floor at his feet and getting smeared with the tears quietly dropping on them.

He started at the burning sensation as the cigarette put itself out in his hand. Now he remembered.

He'd stared at Shuichi, sitting right beside him.

So beautiful.

His first reaction would have normally been to reach out a hand, and when the thought of what he should have done had reached his brain, he'd realized he didn't want it. But Shuichi had done nothing either, just sat and waited.

So fucking submissive.

Yuki had felt his skin burn where nimble fingers had caressed it, forcefully and more possesively than he'd ever experienced. He'd wanted to feel that touch again, wanted to be possessed by someone.

Owned by someone.

Perhaps it had been the desperation, perhaps the undeniable lust that had made the mental revolver go off in his alcohol hazed brain, propably both. But it had been no Russian roulette he'd been playing, he hadn't been playing at all.

"Love me tender, love me true. Beat me 'till I'm black'n'blue."

Yuki had suddenly thrown himself at Shuichi, rage and desperation shining in his eyes, crushing their lips against each other. Shuichi had given little response, only a pair of deep purple eyes staring back at him, with a little confusion in them, but totally giving himself up to Yuki.

This had only added to his agony turned mad rage by the alcohol, and he'd taken it all out on Shuichi.

Yuki looked down at his hands. They were the hands that had hit Shuichi countless times, punching his face when the screaming had become unbearable, resulting in the screams turning into weak sobs and quiet whimpering. The hands that had lifted Shuichi's light and fragile body from the sofa and thrown it against the wall, twisting his thin wrists into painful angles and leaving red marks around them.

The hands that had violently grabbed Shuichi's limp cock as he'd raped him, the hands that had muffled the screams after beating had stopped having any effect.

Yuki Eiri pulled on a pair of black slacks and a shirt and stormed out of the apartment, unable to think any further.

Tears welled up in Shuichi's eyes as he lay in the bathtub. He hurt outside as much as inside, and when he attempted to stand up his vision started swimming again. His legs refused to bear his weight, so he grabbed a hold of the shower curtain and it collapsed on him.

People at NG weren't too well known for their tolerance of absence during a work day, and it was almost noon, so Hiro had been sent to go and drag Shuichi out of bed regardless of whatever kind of relationship crisis he was possibly (and propably) going through.

Hiro had been lost in thought, but when he reached the door of Yuki's apartment and saw that it had been left open wide, a little sound of worry started nagging at the back of his skull. He didn't bother to ring the doorbell and just rushed in to find the apartment seemingly empty. In the bedroom there was only an empty bed, sheets tangled in a heap, and to tell the truth he thought the whole flat was a real mess.

The bathroom door was ajar, and inside the lights were on. Hiro pushed the door slowly open with a weak creaking sound, and saw Shuichi lying on the floor, naked and long limbs tangled in a srawberry patterned shower curtain.

For a few seconds he was too shocked to move, but when the sight of an injured and unconcious Shuichi fully hit his brain, he stumbled forward and kneeled down. He gently took Shuichi's head between his hands and pushed away the pink fringe.

Shuichi's eyes fluttered half open and his lips parted, forming a silent word.

Yuki

Hiro's eyes went wide for a second, then filled with bitter hate. Shuichi passed out again and Hiro grabbed a towel, wrapped it around Shuichi and lifted his thin body in his arms. Then he walked away carrying him, and headed for his own flat without bothering to close the door after him.

TBC

I don't like shuichi. And I have no idea how he ended up in the bathtub.

Please review

P.S. thanks a bunch. Your document editing system sucks. BAD. >:U