(possible trigger warning: mention of rape in preamble, brief description of rape. Read with caution)
HEY HI READER-
sorry that was loud...anyway here's an angsty/sad thing I wrote because I love torturing shuichi...muahahahaha! I headcanon him with depression and anxiety (to enhance the suffering *more evil laughter*) and also trauma from Aizawa's rape cuz they kinda brushed over it in the manga AND the anime which kinda made me sad. SO, to make UP for their lack of Shuichi's trauma, I will amplify it! MUAHAHAHA!
So in summary, this is gonna be about his relationship and mental health struggles which are heavily related to his trauma and self-image issues after being raped (as well as his pre-existing life and mental struggles.)
Gah, I'm so mean. Sorry, Shuichi, you deserve a nicer writer than me. Anyway, the characters don't belong to me, neither does the premise of gravitation. Here's the one-shot! Enjoy!
Shuichi woke up begrudgingly, as he always had in his life, but even more so as of late. This was the hardest part of the day: getting up. It was like a heavy, ominous cloud of dread just loomed over him every morning, unexplained, just there to hinder his everyday life and make everything more difficult. Yuki didn't care if he got up or not, so he wasn't much of an aid in the situation. So much for him declaring Shuichi his "lover." This morning was worse than most, though.
He woke up in the middle of the night with a painful stomach ache. He'd tried fighting through it and getting back to sleep, but to no avail. He tried walking around the house, to maybe calm down his body, but that didn't stop it either. So he lied in bed awake, exhausted and absolutely miserable, tossing and turning until 4 am.
He couldn't take it anymore; his insides felt like they were all twisted up in knots and his stomach felt ready to burst. He rushed to the bathroom as quietly as possible and managed to hold it in until he reached the toilet, staying on his knees there for a while, with intervals of throwing up, trying not to cry, holding himself in pain and more throwing up.
It was at about five that Yuki got up to use the bathroom, only to find his- well, maybe "lover" was a bit strong of a word...perhaps "obnoxious sex partner who you regularly degrade and dismiss" was more appropriate- curled up on the floor in front of the toilet holding himself. From where he was standing, it looked like he was just sleeping there. What's he even doing? he thought, as usual irrate and dumfounded by his strange behaviour. Whatever. He needed to pee.
"Move," he practically commanded, moodiness emanating from his very presence. He always sounded a little harsher in the morning, not having the energy to try and sound pleasant. It was just in his nature.
Shuichi scooted away from the toilet, still lying on the floor, and faced the opposite direction as to give his cold lover privacy, only to end up throwing up on the floor. He coughed and choked on the bitterness that forced its way out of his throat unwillingly. Well, today's sure been great so far, he thought.
Yuki noticed the noise, and kneeled down next to him after washing his hands. So he's awake...and sick, too, he thought, feeling bad. He took in the sight of this man lying before him, with messy, fluffy pink hair and such a slender frame (suddenly he noticed just how thin he looked right now) that shuddered in pain. He felt something go soft inside, and instead of pushing it away, he acted on it. He put a gentle hand on the small, ailing boy's back, rubbing small circles lightly. He almost ached at this sight.
Almost.
He tried to think of something comforting to say, but he couldn't stand the thought of saying something so mushy out loud: it was...just...no. The two sides of him fought until this came out:
"There you go, that's it." Yuki internally facepalmed. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He was too embarrassed to try again so he just listened to Shuichi coughing up what still remained of his stomach's contents and silently prayed for death.
"Y'know, you could help me get back to the toilet, that'd be great," said Shuichi, his voice raspy and almost unrecognizable. Yuki was taken aback. Since when was Shuichi so demanding and straightforward? Well, he used to be, earlier in their "relationship" if you could even call it that (sometimes he really wasn't sure what they were anymore, nor what he wanted them to be. It was frustrating), always being demanding and straight-up with him; lately he'd been more accommodating to Yuki, doing anything not to bother him (It was almost like...he actually cared...). He lifted a pale-faced Shuichi up uncomfortably, feeling awkward about the whole situation rather than worrying about Shuichi. He wasn't used to being the one to comfort or take care of people, so he had no idea what the heck he was doing. He plopped him down a little harder than intended which resulted in an "ow" and then Shuichi leaned over the toilet bowl to continue to throw up.
It was a good while before he stopped. Yuki kind of just stood there. He wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to leave; the noises were gross as all hell and he didn't give a shit about this kid and he didn't even want to keep standing here stupidly, but something inside him was making him stay. Something buried so deep down inside of him, where no one could find it, that he didn't even know it was there; that's what made it so lethal.
After a while, Shuichi stopped, propping himself up against the sink to rest for a second. He had one hand on the side of the sink, the other resting on his offending stomach as shuddering breaths wracked his small and weakened frame (in this position, Yuki could really see just how thin he looked. Maybe it was just the light?). Yuki finally did something; he kneeled down, looking Shuichi in the eyes with his neutral expression (which ironically looked like he wanted to kill Shuichi) and asked: "Are you okay?"
The kid looked so out of it until that question; his puke covered mouth turned into a smile and he started to snort a little. "Am I okay?" He let out an even heartier laugh, obviously finding this sudden question amusing. Yuki felt himself twinge; he started to blush in embarrassment and looked away. "Never mind, I shouldn't have asked," he said through gritted teeth, regretting having tried to act less cold. Shuichi's laughter only progressed, getting louder and more out-of-control, like he'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. Before he knew it, Shuichi was practically cackling while on his hands and knees, smacking the ground with one hand. Yuki couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was what he said really that funny? Is this kid on laughing gas? What the hell is going on here? He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified or confused, but before he could make up his mind, Shuichi looked up and spoke between nearly suffocating laughs.
"It's so... funny how... people ask... that... question when they... aren't even... gonna like the real answer." He sputtered and laughed again, less hearty and full of a sound than before; it was more hollow. More empty.
"I can't say how I really feel, because I don't want to...you know. Open up a can of worms, like the Americans say. And obviously it'd be awkward to say something like 'No, not really, I'm on the verge of tears right now as a matter of fact and I think about killing myself at least daily because it'd be a lot better than this state of hell I'm living in, but thanks for asking!' So I just lie. It gets harder...so much...harder, every day to just keep lying, and lying, and….lying." He said this last word more softly.
"It's hilarious; of course I'm not fucking okay. Have I ever been really? I guess not; it's just that it's been worse lately. So much...worse..."
He took in a sharp breath, his mind lingering on what had caused this recent "breakdown". It was Taki; when he-
No. He couldn't say it. Couldn't think it. Saying it would make this all too real; he couldn't take it. The word felt like a curse. Even without hearing it, the meaning of it reverberated in his skull, making his head go fuzzy again; he faded out of himself, started seeing the memory come into focus vaguely in front of him. He saw concrete walls, the sneering, grinning faces, felt the throbbing thrusts into him—
"Shuichi?" He snapped back to reality. He put his head in his hands, muttering into his knees.
"I'm not okay, I'm a fucking wreck, in fact; I'm always anxious, my stomach always hurts, I cry over stupid things, literally everything I do makes me feel awful and I can't go a day without feeling like the world is just falling apart. It's so frustrating. I'm just so—just—fucking tired. Of pretending. Of being strong. It's every single fucking day. It's so tiring. I don't want to have to be strong anymore. I just want to be weak...for once."
His eyes close as he gives in and collapses into Yuki's lap. Then, through the haze of morning despair, it sinks in; he just let his guard down. He took off the mask. He let the darkness slip through the cracks in his heart.
"Yuki….I'm sorry. I didn't...mean to say that. Please, just— ignore what I just said. I don't...want you to worry." He managed to crack open his weighted eyes (though they felt oh so heavy) and look up, giving Yuki a weak, empty ghost of a smile. "I'll be okay." His voice sounded sweet, but so soft. So weary.
So...broken.
His head fell back down into Yuki's lap as he moaned in pain. "It hurts...my stomach…" he says, curling up tightly in a ball as the clouds of dread loomed nearer now, with the preconceived anxiety of work impending. "Man, I'm so late...Seguchi-san is gonna kill me…" Yuki patted his head, responding.
"It's a saturday, baka. You don't have to worry about work." Shuichi felt the smallest bit of relief, though not enough to notice through all the stormclouds in his head and the toxic waste bubbling inside his stomach, threatening to resurface.
He helped stand Shuichi up so he could wash his mouth. When Shuichi was done, he turned around slowly, sluggishly.
"Yuki?" he said, his voice sounding hoarse and muffled.
"What is it?" Yuki said, putting up his defenses again. Damn. At least he managed to resist adding 'brat' or 'baka' at the end.
"Could you...carry...me back to...?" he mumbled the last part.
"Speak louder, brat." His tone hardened against his control. Crap, he called him that again. Shuichi cleared his throat dramatically (he probably didn't mean for it to be dramatic; it's just that to Yuki everything he did seemed particularly, unnecessarily flamboyant. To be honest, he secretly kind of liked that about him), suddenly getting a tickle in his throat and coughing a bit.
"I said could you...could you…" He looked at the floor, giving a weird sort of nervous grin. Yuki sighed extra loudly and impatiently, which made Shuichi speak again, more frazzled this time. "I mean…! Could you….carry me to bed?" he said, glancing up shyly through his abnormally pretty eyelashes; even with his sunken eyes and hollowing face, he still managed to look stunning.
"You're probably fine," he replied, "you can walk." Shuichi felt another lurch in his stomach at the rejection, almost jolting at the sudden pain. Same as always, he thought, exasperated. He gulped back a little bit of vomit.
"Oh. Okay." He let a tear fall, walking slowly and shakily out of the bathroom like a newborn fawn, his arm on the wall for support. He started to slump against the wall after only a few steps. Yuki immediately lunged forward to catch him, trying to be swift but gentle. Shuichi was now in his arms and looking up at him again through a clouded, distant gaze, and Yuki felt himself smirk.
"Baka," he said, feeling some new kind of way. Quickly he wiped the grin of his face and looked down at the floor in embarrassment. "You don't have to pretend to collapse to get me to carry you." He picked him up, feeling a quite a significant weight difference from the last time he carried Shuichi like this, which was quite a while, now that he thought about it.
He's lost weight...a lot of it, he thought.
So I wasn't just imagining things...
He set him down and pulled the covers over Shuichi very meticulously, suddenly hyperaware about Shuichi's shockingly fragile state, worried he'd hurt him somehow with how frail and sick he had become right before his eyes. And he didn't even notice...
Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him eat that much lately. He usually says he already ate before getting home, or that he's just not hungry. I should've known; he's been lying.
As Shuichi started to cry out softly, moaning in distress, Yuki almost started feeling kind of concerned. Then he remembered the things Shuichi said in the bathroom. They weren't right. They couldn't possibly be right. They didn't sound like something the man would say, not at all. Yuki was still in denial himself about any of what he said being real in the moment, rather just subconsciously ruling out all of it; it felt like some kind of sick daydream It was only now that the things Shuichi said were registering in his mind; his words were so...painful. To say (he assumed), and even to hear, echoing in his head now. He sounded so frustrated. So upset. So worn down. Somehow all at once. It made Yuki feel...something. Something hard in his chest turning raw, stirring up his insides. Something out of place. Something wrong.
No, scratch that; he felt just fine. There was no possible way something as stupid as this, let alone about this kid who he doesn't give a shit about AT ALL in ANY way, shape, or form, could make him worried or upset or hurt. No. No way. Not possible.
Was it?
He stopped himself in his tracks. This was it. This was the problem. His automatic denial, like a wall, blocking out any possible emotion he may be feeling, pushing it deep under his subconscious, where it would certainly be impossible to reach.
Impossible.
But did he really want to reach it?
He turned over all the possible implications and meaning behind his lo- nope, not going to use the L word, no way- brat's hollow yet overflowing words as he nervously brushed Shuichi's messy bangs out of his face (not that they were really in his face, Yuki just felt the sudden need to touch him. He was starting to feel like he'd fade into nothing if he didn't). Shuichi, with his eyes closed, jumped at the touch, unaware that Yuki was still beside him. Yuki sighed.
"Sorry for scaring you." Shuichi immediately jumped into excusing him.
"No, it's okay! Really, it's totally-!"
"Jeez, you're such a spaz, even when you're sick," Yuki huffed, not thinking before he spoke. He felt immediately a little bad- no, to be honest, awful- seeing Shuichi's face fall as he tried to hold back more tears that had only just managed to subside. Yuki reached out a hand to cradle the aching man's cheek, wiping his sparkling tears away with his thumb.
"Hey, hey, I didn't mean it," Yuki said. His voice was softer; gentler than before.
Shuichi felt a hiccup get caught in his throat, and suddenly the floodgates broke and he was sobbing. Just like that, the feeble facade of strength he'd so desperately tried to put up to save himself from breaking came crashing down under the weight of...everything, really. It was all just coming out of him at once. It felt like he was suffocating. The pressure in his chest was so intense it hurt. It all felt so bad before, but now his feelings were just being thrown right over the edge by Yuki's sudden tenderness. Shuichi wanted so, so desperately to believe that this was a sign, that things were going to change, but he knew deep down inside, where his doubts stir up a witch's potion of anxiety, that that wasn't the truth. It never would be; not with someone as ugly, annoying, pathetic, and worthless as him. It had happened all too many times before; he had let himself get caught up in a daydream every time Yuki was remotely nice to him, only for his sudden cruelty to snap Shuichi back to reality twice as hard. He didn't know if his weak heart could handle that happening again.
He pushed Yuki away gently, pulling the hand off his face. He gulped. He couldn't look Yuki in the eyes, not right now, while he was so vulnerable to falling back into his lies. even if they were true, which even still, he grasped onto just the smallest glint of hope they would be, at this point he was so worn and torn from the abuse- the destructive, combined force of his lover and his own mind. Yuki was a cold, hard man, through and through. There was so much to love about him, but on top of everything going on inside his head, it hurt so much to be with him, almost as much as it hurt to be taken away from him. Being with him was like a constant open wound being sliced back open after just scabbing over: the back and forth, always being in doubt of how he really feels or what he's trying to communicate, never knowing what or if he's done something wrong and the constant pain of rejection despite knowing deep down that Shuichi loved him, that there was so much more to him than his cold demeanor. He loved him, but he didn't want to live like this, always feeling worthless and dejected. He loved him so much, but the emotional strain was wearing him so thin; he could only go so far.
His whole body started shaking, trying desperately not to burst out sobbing and become vulnerable. Holding it back made him sick to his stomach again as he put a hand over his mouth. Yuki quickly ran to grab a trash can, making it just a little too late; luckily it was mostly just empty fluid this time, so it'd be easier cleanup. Shuichi didn't throw up for long. Afterwards, he couldn't stop the tears from coming out, straining his vocal cords, choking him. Yuki held the shuddering man tight to his chest, which Shuichi allowed, no longer able to resist the comfort he so, so desperately craved and needed right now. He didn't care in that moment that Yuki would hurt him later; he was just sick and tired and needed someone to cling onto.
Yuki's chest was big and warm, his arms surrounding Shuichi like a blanket, protecting him. They were like that for a good while, until they lied down, still clung together. Shuichi's harrowing cries died down eventually, and Yuki just held him, never wanting to let go. It felt like he was Shuichi's glue; like if he did, Shuichi would crack into a million pieces and never be the same; shattered so easily, like precious porcelain. He had to protect him. He wanted to change, he really did, but it was so hard. And terrifying. All of this was. Shuichi had broken down every barrier he had built up, and that terrified him. But he made him feel almost...whole again: worthy of something, a feeling that had long gone unfelt.
He knew that Shuichi would never hurt him...but deep down he truly didn't know, not for sure (could he ever be sure of anything anymore? he thought to himself). He hated himself and agreed with himself at the same time for feeling this way. How could he have so much doubt in this man? Wasn't that doubt a clear sign that he didn't deserve Shuichi? That their relationship, if it ever made it to a point were they could even call it that, would crumble under the weight of his insecurities? But then again, the cynical side of himself knew he couldn't let his guard down, not even to someone as seemingly well-intentioned and weak as Shuichi. It was all a constant migraine, a raging argument against instinct and desire going on inside him, alongside the picture of Shuichi's face that sickeningly reminded him of someone he used to know.
"Yuki..." Shuichi said, his voice soft and ragged around the edges, still worn out from crying. He breathed in, his chest full of knives. Did he really want to say it? That he wasn't going to trust Yuki anymore? That he thought they should break up? He looked into Yuki's golden, striking eyes, gazing back into his so lovingly, and he had to hold back a whimper. No, he couldn't do it. Not now, with Yuki playing nice. It would hurt too much, and he was in too much pain already and far too needy to tell him. So, he indulged in Yuki's sickening kindness, ignoring the fact that he should be running away. He was too weak right now.
"Just hold me," he continued, feeling another sob cut straight though his windpipe and block his throat, ready to come out. He could barely manage to speak without crying. "Hold me tighter. Please." That last word came out a broken whisper, on the verge of tears again. Yuki wrapped his arms tight around shuichi, grabbing his precious head and burying it in the warmth and security of his chest. He kissed Shuichi tenderly on the top of his head, lingering there for a while, trying so desperately to transcend his true intentions into that kiss. Shuichi felt better, but the pit in his stomach wouldn't go away completely.
Soooooo that's all! I'm so sorry, I kept trying to wrap this up but no matter how many times I go back, I can't seem to come up with a real ending. If you have any ideas for an ending, tell me and I might edit them in. Anyway, that's all: thank you so much and please, please, PLEASE don't forget to review! I'm actually really proud of this one, but any critcism and advice is gladly welcome, just don't be a jerk about it. Compliments are too! And I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything in a million years: I have soooooo many fanfic ideas and little things ive written but for the life of me I can NEVER FINISH THEM! GAH! Why is writing so haaaaard?! Sorry I'm being whiny, I'm just really upset that I haven't posted a lot. I'll try to get my act together and finish one of the million one shots and shit that I have started.
P.S. And may I say whoo-WHEE was that shit sad as hell!
P.P.S. If you have any ideas for future one shots or fics, please feel free to leave them in a review.
P.P.P.S. I know this syas one shot but I'm thinking of continuing this. Would you guys like that? Please tell me
