Title: Red

Author: j-chan

Theme: knife (suicide) #47 4/50

Rating: PG

Warnings: implied suicide, angst, shounen ai

Disclaimer: Gravitation and characters mentioned are not property of me, though I wish they were because then Suguru would be in the remixes, damnit!

Summary: Ryuichi contemplates his old age compared to the younger ages of his two lovers.

Red

Yesterday was the third anniversary of the day I asked my two younger lovers to warm my bed with me. The three of us had come a long way since then; fights, break-ups, make-ups, taking our middle lover's virginity, kisses and hugs, tears and smiles, the spoiling of our youngest lover… we were each other's everything. Things had tried to tear us apart, but we clung together as if we were going to die without all three of us in each other's arms.

Now, though, I was coming up to my thirty-seventh birthday while my lovers were barely legal drinking age in America. I realized that I was getting older while they stayed in their youth. It isn't fair to them that things have to slow down because I'm getting older. I know they still love me, but they should have fun in their youth instead of slowly watching me get older and slower as the days pass. Sure, I can still keep up on stage, but I'm lacking in my personal life.

Sighing, I move around the kitchen and try to find what I had been searching for nearly fifteen minutes ago (before I got distracted from my internal ramblings). It should have been in the top drawer, but I'm sure one of my lovers moved it accidentally. Probably the youngest, since he has a tendency of doing just that. I'm about to give up when I glance in the sink, spotting it. I should probably wash it before I use it.

The water streamed down the silver blade as I turned the faucet on. I had always appreciated the look of a clean knife, yet I never knew why. Maybe it was the way the sun liked to sparkle within it? Or maybe the way that every knife was different, no matter what? I think it just reminded me of the way the lights liked to bounce off the small beads of sweat I would produce while on stage.

Shaking the images off my mind, I turned back and stared out of the kitchen window. The yard was so beautiful, done surprisingly by our youngest lover. When not in school or at his father's temple, he liked to plant flowers and nourish the already planted ones to life. He told me one morning that it was his passion, to find beauty and help it grow to the fullest it could be. He would have made a great father if he had settled with a nice woman.

My hands moved without me realizing it. They were used to this pattern anyway; they did it at least three times a week now. Before, it was only once or twice every two weeks, but things change. Everything changes. When I first started, everything made me squeamish, but now I barely bat an eye as the red juice flows down my hands and wrists. It didn't bother me anymore.

I found myself thinking back on the ages of my lovers compared to mine. They were almost the same age, not even half a year apart from another. They could have had a great life together without me in the picture, but they insisted. They insisted I be there, no matter what and I was finding it hard to both deny then and grant their wish.

No matter what any of us wanted, I was getting older. Soon enough I would feel arthritis in my bones and then what would I do? I would no longer be able to touch my lovers without feeling pain. My pain would cause them pain and where would the love be that kept us together? In my mind, I could see everything break. I could see the fights my lovers would have over whose responsibility it would be to look over me next. I could see it and I didn't want it to happen.

I glanced down at the knife again, seeing it almost covered in the slippery substance. My wrists were sticky as well as my fingers, every now and then a bit of red dripping off them. I glanced at the knife and then back down again. Too much… I had cut too much this time. My mind told me that I probably wouldn't have to do this again for a while, but there was another part of me that was upset. I wanted to do this, so why did I cut too much now?

"Ryuichi?"

I didn't turn, even though the voice was shaky and a little worried. "I cut too much," I heard myself murmur. "I didn't mean to, but I did."

My lover called out to our third before walking toward me, a frown on his face. "Ryuichi? It's okay."

I shook his head, turning to show him what I meant. "No, Suguru! I cut too much!"

"Ryuichi, it's-"

"No!"

I saw Tatsuha approach, standing just barely a foot inside the doorway. Jesus, Ryu, put the knife down before you do something stupid."

"I already did! I cut too much!"

I closed my eyes, a little ashamed at my outburst. This would definitely have to be discussed, but I didn't want to right now. I felt one of my lovers –Suguru most likely– take the knife from my hands and put it into the sink. Beside me, I felt Tatsuha take one of my arms and begin to clean it. With them next to me, I began to calm.

"Ryuichi," Suguru started again and I swear I heard amusement coming from him, "it's just a tomato. You can cut up as much as you'd like."

"Of course," Tatsuha agreed. "It isn't like we hate tomatoes or anything."

My lovers … my two young lovers, if only they knew how much they could have had without me.