1. I was much too far out all my life, not waving but drowning.
They all said he was dead inside.
No, indeed, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Still, it certainly wasn't a misinterpretation he intended to fix. Emotionless, cold, hard; when they thought you didn't care it was easier to convince yourself that you really didn't.
It was highly unfortunate, then, the day the pink haired moron bounded into his life. Eiri put on the air of one long-suffering, and in fact it was not possible to tolerate Shuuichi without suspending all natural impatience. For all his show, however, Eiri knew Shuuichi had to be the more patient of the two, without a doubt was the more forgiving.
Sometimes Eiri wondered why Shuuichi put up with him.
Here I am, cold-hearted bastard, as advertised.
Eiri never realized how clearly Shuuichi saw through the cracks in his armor; couldn't, wouldn't acknowledge how much he felt. Eventually he stopped caring why Shuuichi stuck around and allowed himself to be glad that the little idiot chose to stay.
And so, despite zero change in his exterior demeanor, Yuki Eiri lost his reputation as frosty, unapproachable, alone-but-not-lonely solitary wolf.
This did not explain why Tohma was at his door, asking if Eiri would help his cousin Suguru with "matters of the heart" (Tohma always did have a knack for obnoxiously trite phrasing). Suguru looked decidedly disgruntled, and, Eiri thought, justifiably so.
"I realize that you aren't exactly a leading expert in the field of romance, Tohma, but surely you must remember that I write sap, not practice it."
Eiri decided that he hated Tohma and his unflappable grin. So brusque a manner should have been off-putting to anyone, but Tohma pressed on as though Eiri had gladly volunteered his services.
"Oh, I knew you'd understand his plight, Eiri. You two aren't really so different--" This was, of course, completely untrue, Eiri mused as he tuned out Tohma's self-important prattle. Fujisaki resembled his cousin, but to lesser extremes of manipulative and controlling. For this reason, Eiri wanted nothing to do with Fujisaki; one Tohma was enough. On the other hand, his interference could spare the world the development of another Tohma. Eiri knew his decision was made. "…-ka insisted that my brand of counsel would be unhealthy, but I couldn't very well leave my cousin to his own sad devices, could I? Who else would I turn to to guide young Suguru here--"
"Fine." Eiri didn't so much answer as growl. "If it gets you out of my doorway, I'll take on your project." The green haired boy at Tohma's side bristled visibly, but he remained silent. Tohma's smile turned up a notch, clearly projecting that he knew exactly which buttons to push to get his way. Not for the first time, Eiri felt as though he'd been had.
That Tohma nanced off alone, leaving Eiri with one very surly Fujisaki, was a fitting ending to the beginning of what Eiri knew would be a disastrous day.
tsuzuku...
a/n:
-Gravitation is Murakami Maki's. Consider yourselves disclaimed.
-Chapter title courtesy of Stevie Smith's poem, Not Waving But Drowning, which has long been a favorite of mine
-Apologies to anyone who actually likes Seguchi Tohma. He's not a very likeable character, though I think his ego may be a bit overblown here.
-For whatever reason, it seems that all my writing happens at four in the a.m. I'm attempting a multi-chaptered thing because my sister complains that oneshots are not good enough. Yoroshiku ne. Ganbattemashou.