Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.

Prompt: "I want you to know." Should he tell Yuki about it, or not? (Does NOT tie into Beloved Snow)

Thank you to: Secret Hidden Within Me. I don't think this is quite what you had mind, but your idea gave me this idea! So thank you. :)

Rating: M for strong implications of past rape, and dark thoughts.

Snuff

You caught me off-guard with those words. You've never cared before, or at least you've never showed it, if you have.

You want to know, or think you do. I want you to know, I know I do.

And I imagine how it would go.

'I asked them to stop.'

I would say those words, and even though you asked for them – are expecting them – you would freeze regardless, fingers hovering above the keyboard where you were typing yet another perfect love story. You'd be stunned into silence, because for the past three months you've been trying to get me to say something, you've gotten nothing. My voice would be timid, because let's face it, I'm not exactly the epitome of bravery lately, and I still get nervous when you glare at me. My words will cut through the tension that had quickly built up at your request, and your eyes will narrow slightly, just shy of that glare I fear. And you'll turn, and eye me warily, because as much as I fear your glares, you fear whatever I'm about to say. I don't know how I know that, I just do.

You'll stare at me, studying me, wondering if I'm going to actually talk about it, wondering if you actually want to know. And since I know what you're thinking, and know what I'm thinking, I'll bow my head low enough to escape both you and the whispers that still echo in my ears. My nose will graze the page in my notebook littered with untruthful lyrics, and I'll inhale the smell of ink, with tense shoulders and trembling knees. And I'll feel your stare.

You'll know what I'm saying – you would, even if you hadn't asked. And maybe this time, like every other time you bring it up, your fists will clench in anger I don't know the source of. Your mouth will stay shut, because last time you tried to interrupt me, I left the apartment and didn't come back until one that morning. I still remember your look that night. I think you do, too. And neither of us want a repeat of that, so, incredibly, I'll continue speaking.

'They had me pretty banged up, you know. I had a little to drink, enough to knock me off my game.' I'll try to put that light spin on it, just because I won't be able to stand the way your head has lowered slightly, or the shadow of guilt that will darken your eyes from that beautiful gold to the brown I've learned to hate the sight of. And I'll laugh a little, too, because you've mentioned once or twice that you haven't heard it in a while. But I'll know it sounded wrong, so I'll continue before your eyes get worse. 'I would have been able to handle them otherwise – a couple of thugs, so what? No worse than the guys that were harassing Ayaka that night. They weren't exactly the nicest looking guys.'

And it would go downhill from there; my composure, my lightness. Because I still remember them, all of them. They were all smiles when I saw them, all bright and happy, and so was I, because I can't hold my liquor. I'll remember how nice he was as he held my shoulders to keep me on my feet. How soothing his voice was when I complained about being dizzy, how gentle his hands were, how cool, on my heated face. How much it hurt when he knocked me to the ground.

But you would still waiting. So I'd still be talking, even if I couldn't hold it together as much.

'One minute we were laughing, and the next I was on the ground. He…he wasn't touching me, not really. Not yet. He let … let the other guys go first. Because they asked. You'd think that they would … would want to go one at a time. But they didn't. And they laughed, and laughed. And said my whimpers were beautiful and that my skin tasted like honey. They touched me everywhere, with their hands … with their mouths. And they bit me, like you like to. Only … only it hurt. It all hurt.'

Yeah. It hurt.

'And he watched the whole time, smiling at me. He would wipe away my tears as they fell, telling me not to cry even as I screamed with each painful movement. I threatened to expose them, to tell Touma, the police, anyone. And then he … he pulled out … he brought out that damn camera. That stupid camera! And he told me what he'd do, as he took the pictures.'

I wouldn't remind you of the threats, of how he used you to get to me, because I hate the way you shrink every time Hiro brings it up. But you'd know what I'm talking about, as usual.

'I … I asked them to stop.' I'd repeat that, because I want you to know that. I want you to understand that I fought, begged, for them to release me. To not hurt you. 'I told them that I would stop singing, would stop writing, would quit Bad Luck. If only they stopped. If they let you alone.'

'But … but then the pictures were done. And he … he decided … it was his … I asked him to stop, Yuki. I swear I did.'

"You're shaking, Brat."

Your voice pulls me from my imagination – you're frowning now, not glaring. But you're still sitting there, and your eyes are still that spectacular gold that I can't get enough of. I haven't told you anything; the entire conversation stayed in my thoughts.

"I-I'm fine," I reply, and shift enough that I'm tucked as far as I can be into the side of the couch. Safe, hidden. Held. Your eyes narrow further.

"Tell me?" You request again, and it's softer this time. You really want to know, want to understand what happened that night. Want to confirm your worst fears, maybe, or justify the plans you've been making to hunt them down and kill them. You want to know, you know you do. But …

"Please, Yuki," I whisper, closing my notebook and leaving the lyrics for another time. Another time when … I grab the remote and flip on the television. "Please don't ask me again. I can't."

And like every other time, your eyes darken, and your head lowers. And then you return to your perfect romance novel, where lovers don't keep secrets from each other. And our discussion waits for another fatal day.

Forgive me, please, Yuki, but I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to kill them. I don't want you to hurt yourself because of my choice.

I don't want you to know.

Once again, not where I was planning this piece to go. What can you do? :)

Let me know what you thought!