All Right (Gravitaton fanfic)
This piece needs to have its scrawny neck wrung. Multiple times. I wrote the original draft back in February, if that says anything. I'm not sure how to add what I think I need to add, either.
Gravitation fic, alternate reality/history, multiple (mostly implied) pairings.
“So take the blue and take the black
And take all the colors
Of heartbreak back
And throw them in the sea
And say you love me…”
- “Golden,” A Girl Called Eddy
Sunlight streams through the windows of the New York apartment, staining the walls with a soft golden tint. The morning silence is almost oppressive, months and weeks and days of lies and hope and fresh paint compacted into what they’ve rationalized by calling “now.” Yuki rests his head against the glass doors of the balcony, a cup of coffee in one hand as he observes the sunrise without seeing anything but his own reflection.
“Hey…” the voice behind him is sweet, sleepy, and he refuses to respond as he takes another sip of the bitter liquid. It burns his throat, but he savors the pain and tenses slightly when he feels arms encircle him, his lover’s head pressed against his shoulder.
“I’m glad that you’re still here.” The boy pauses, careful, considering. Finally, he says, “It’s too early to go out drinking.”
Yuki clenches his hands around the mug, watching them melt away in the glass. “Since when did I give you permission to say what I can and cannot do?” he asks. The body against his recoils slightly, and he tries to soften his words. “Besides, it was part of the deal that I made with Tohma for you, wasn’t it?”
“…Yeah.” His voice is getting deeper with every passing month, Yuki reflects, taking a final swallow and feeling the head nestled against his neck. He has such pretty golden eyes, especially when they reflect the sun.
“Eiri?” He drops his free hand down to touch the boy’s hip, caressing and soothing him in the early morning light.
“Hm?”
“I’m glad that you didn’t go back to the Japan,” he says simply, lifting off the corner off the scab and then letting go. They don’t talk about it much - the memories are embarrassing and painful, searing and frightening. Yuki loves the feeling of control that it gives him when he makes Eiri bleed, but he knows that too much will drive him away for good.
Yuki doesn’t question why Eiri missed. He already knows that he doesn’t want to know. It wasn’t because of love - they were past that point already.
He doesn’t know why Tohma has let Eiri come back - something about Mika and NG and music and Eiri’s becoming legal. He wonders what Eiri did, said, to make Tohma agree.
Then again, he’s never actually asked, and he knows that he’s never going to ask, because he knows that Tohma’s not a forgiving person. He knows that Tohma’s just waiting for a reason to arrange some sort of accident that will keep him away from Eiri forever.
He knows that Tohma’s sorry that Eiri missed, and sometimes he thinks that the other man’s just jealous.
“I’m glad too.” The sentence is short, more restrained than usual. Eiri lets go of him, taking the cup from his other hand before walking towards the kitchen. Yuki’s kitchen, although they’ll never say it, wrapped in a guise of togetherness.
Yuki doesn’t wince when he sees the handprint on the side of Eiri’s neck, half-hidden by his shirt and hair. It’s almost perfect, bruises spreading like a river of ink under his pale skin. He only hopes that it’ll be gone by the time that someone comes to check up on them - someone always comes to check up on them. That was part of the deal, too.
The mark has to be gone, or Tohma will not be the only one who arranges accidents.
He is vaguely glad that Eiri seems to like it rough, even if it isn’t about pleasure at all.
Yuki follows the boy into the next room, setting at the table as Eiri begins to make breakfast. “You’re beautiful,” he says slowly, carefully modulating his voice into a light slur. “You make me want to drink.”
The boy slows but doesn’t turn around. Yuki is impressed. Eiri always seems to know what Yuki means - means to say, means to do, means not to do and then does anyway.
“Yeah,” Eiri repeats himself before going back to the task at hand, the graceful movement of his back revealing none of his emotions. Yuki knows that he’s disposed of all of the alcohol in the apartment, but they can deal with that later. Until then, that’s what secret flasks and bars are for.
He tried to love Eiri, truly he did, but fairytales don’t come true. And now that Eiri’s growing up, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this reality, either.
They eat silently, each not meeting the other’s eyes. “What are you thinking about?” Yuki asks, watching as Eiri pushes food around his plate.
“Japan,” he begins slowly. “My father’s ill. Mika and Tohma both want me to go back for awhile, set things right with the old bastard.”
It is rare that Eiri shows this much emotion anymore, and Yuki is surprised at his honesty. “Ayaka?” he questions.
“Probably. I thought that he had pushed her off to Tatsuha - but they’re stubborn, all of them.” There’s a fire in Eiri’s eyes that Yuki sees out of the bedroom once in a blue moon, and it fascinates him. “The bastard just won’t accept that I’m never going to go back to stay.”
Yuki nods, thinking it over. “And you’re going to humor everyone and go anyway?”
“I have to,” Eiri replies, playing with his fork. “Tohma has connections. He’s threatening to block the Japanese printing of my latest book.” He begins to laugh. “The fangirls would kill him, though, if my editor didn’t. That doesn’t seem to faze him, though.”
Yuki joins in with his laughter, and the apartment suddenly embodies the sun instead of merely reflecting it. He wonders briefly if this is kind of relationship that they could have had, once, but pushes the thought away. Maybes are even scarcer than second chances, and much more dangerous.
When they’re calm again, he asks, “What about me, Eiri?” His eyes are the ones that burn now, challenging Eiri to defy him.
Eiri doesn’t take the challenge and even smiles in the afterglow. He touches Yuki’s hand before replying. “You’re coming with me, although you’ll have to -“ he pauses, his eyes worried, “I mean, we’re not - I don’t like men. However, I don’t trust you enough to leave you here on your own, either.” It’s a blunt statement, heartfelt and tinged with fear and another emotion that Yuki cannot name.
The quickest to love are the easiest to ensnare, and everyone can see the pattern. Yuki sees it and twists it to his advantage, as does Tohma. They are two spiders twisting in a web of their own design, the only ones who are guaranteed safe passage through the hells that they have created.
“Of course not,” Yuki says smoothly, bitter only because it is true.
***
Tohma is waiting for them at the airport with a limo, all empty smiles and superficial words. His eyes are sweet when he greets Eiri, but his mask is back in place when he glares coolly at the boy’s companion. When they shake hands, Yuki realizes that Tohma is wearing gloves, and he knows that they’re for him.
Should murder be required before they arrive at the hotel, there will be no blood on Seguchi Tohma’s hands.
Tohma is a priss, but his ability to hate is legendary, and he’d stopped liking Yuki years ago. As far as Yuki is concerned, the feeling is neutral.
He forces himself to listen to Eiri’s excited chatter as the car rolls out of the garage, secure now that he is in Tohma’s presence. He wonders why Eiri doesn’t stay with the other man if he knows that he is safe with him. However, he knows that, even if Eiri desired it, Yuki wouldn’t let him go.
Yuki keeps his senses alert even after silence falls, wondering what will happen when Eiri realizes that Tohma is not a god and Tohma realizes that Yuki’s deal has been forged with lies.
The third man shifts in his seat and folds his hands in his pink-suited lap. “I hope that you do understand, Kitazawa-san, that it isn’t possible for you to stay in the family complex.” His dead smile cuts through Yuki like a razor, whispering that Tohma knows what he is.
Yuki hates Tohma for that smile because it makes him feel like they’re one of a kind.
“I’ve already made reservations for you at a nearby hotel. Of course, you’ll be introduced to everyone,” he says, more for Eiri’s sake than anyone else’s. “But Uegusi-san was quite clear that he desires to be surrounded only by family during this difficult time.”
“Of course,” Yuki replies pleasantly, smiling at Eiri reassuringly. “Anything to make this visit go as smoothly as possible.” Privately, he wonders if the hotel has a bar. Eiri’s raised eyebrow tells him that he knows what Yuki is thinking, and that he doesn’t approve. Yuki doesn’t know why he needs Eiri’s approval anyway, but he thinks that Tohma would be too careful to make a mistake like that - unless he’s even more twisted than he had thought.
When Tohma is involved, anything is possible, and Yuki pretends not to notice when the other man’s hand lingers on Eiri’s shoulder for a little too long.
***
Eiri’s right - it is a plot to get him together with Ayaka, a plot that openly fails miserably. Only his father refuses to see it, and the drama that he creates is enough to actually make himself ill and delay their departure for the States.
“I don’t know why he thinks that I’m suddenly going to be the perfect son, like my brother,” Eiri rants one evening, pacing up and down in Yuki’s hotel room. His protections are slipping down, helped by the constant presence of Tohma, and Yuki is obsessed with watching him fall apart like this.
“Perfect son?” he repeats. “Isn’t Tatsuha a popstar-obsessed womanizer?”
“Yes and yes,” his lover admits, dropping down to sit beside Yuki on the bed. The other man strokes his hair comfortingly as they twist around to face each other. He hopes that Eiri won’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “Maybe ‘perfect’ isn’t the right word, but he loves Japan and the temple. He’s a good priest, and I can’t imagine him leaving.”
Yuki raises an eyebrow as he runs his hands over the buttons on Eiri’s shirt. “Even for love?”
“Even for love,” Eiri agrees.
Yuki has to wonder if Eiri knows what love is, but they don’t talk about things like that.
The boy continues talking. “Only one more day, and then we can go home. I think that Mika is going to take up my case with the old bastard and try to convince him to stop making a fool of himself.” He grins. “I think that Tatsuha and Ayaka will look great together, don’t you?”
“You’re vain,” Yuki half-teases, wrapping his arms around Eiri and pulling him in for a kiss. The even stronger than usual bite behind it surprises Yuki; it is almost enough to make him wish that Tohma is around more. There is something about Tohma that brings Eiri back to life, that makes him secure in his own skin.
“Hey!” Eiri takes a moment to get the joke, but his eyes widen as he does. He starts to say more, but Yuki puts a hand on his neck and tightens it slightly.
In the moments before sex, Yuki thinks that their guise of normalcy is almost perfect.
As they lie together on the bed, he is glad that most of the visible bruises are gone, although he scorns that he cannot put them back tonight.
***
As the plane rises to cruising altitude, Yuki leans over to see what Eiri is reading. “A magazine about bands?” he asks incredulously, taking it and flipping blankly through the pages.
Eiri nods, already disappearing back into himself. “Tohma gave it to me. He thought that I might be interested in reading about Bad Luck and ASK - NG’s - his - latest conquests. He thought that I could base a novel off of it - love on the road. That’s been done to death, but…” His eyes stare out of the window at the clouds, and it seems that the further away that he gets from Japan, the more that he fades.
A picture has caught Yuki’s eye and he pauses at a photo of a boy in a ridiculously skimpy outfit, his pink hair and violet eyes reflecting the lights of the stage. He’s smiling openly, holding his microphone like it’s a part of him. Behind him stands a black-haired man, slightly older, with dropping eyes and a vicious glare.
Eiri glances at the magazine again. “You’re staring, Yuki,” he criticizes, and then says, “The droopy-eyed one has the same vibe that you and Tohma give off when you’re angry.”
Yuki forces himself to smile, wrapping an arm just a little to tightly around Eiri’s shoulders as he closes the magazine. He doesn’t say anything, but he hopes that Eiri falls asleep soon so that he can order a glass - or two, or an entire bottle - of wine.
The boy with the purple eyes has the same smile as Eiri, and it scares the shit out of him. He leans back and hopes that the miles pass by quickly and that Japan will return to being just a dreamland.
Later, when he’s back and safe in New York, he will burn the magazine and pretend that he’s always been blind and that everything is - that everything has always been - all right.
Comments/critques/advice? They will be greatly appreciated <3 .
Gravitation fic, alternate reality/history, multiple (mostly implied) pairings.
“So take the blue and take the black
And take all the colors
Of heartbreak back
And throw them in the sea
And say you love me…”
- “Golden,” A Girl Called Eddy
Sunlight streams through the windows of the New York apartment, staining the walls with a soft golden tint. The morning silence is almost oppressive, months and weeks and days of lies and hope and fresh paint compacted into what they’ve rationalized by calling “now.” Yuki rests his head against the glass doors of the balcony, a cup of coffee in one hand as he observes the sunrise without seeing anything but his own reflection.
“Hey…” the voice behind him is sweet, sleepy, and he refuses to respond as he takes another sip of the bitter liquid. It burns his throat, but he savors the pain and tenses slightly when he feels arms encircle him, his lover’s head pressed against his shoulder.
“I’m glad that you’re still here.” The boy pauses, careful, considering. Finally, he says, “It’s too early to go out drinking.”
Yuki clenches his hands around the mug, watching them melt away in the glass. “Since when did I give you permission to say what I can and cannot do?” he asks. The body against his recoils slightly, and he tries to soften his words. “Besides, it was part of the deal that I made with Tohma for you, wasn’t it?”
“…Yeah.” His voice is getting deeper with every passing month, Yuki reflects, taking a final swallow and feeling the head nestled against his neck. He has such pretty golden eyes, especially when they reflect the sun.
“Eiri?” He drops his free hand down to touch the boy’s hip, caressing and soothing him in the early morning light.
“Hm?”
“I’m glad that you didn’t go back to the Japan,” he says simply, lifting off the corner off the scab and then letting go. They don’t talk about it much - the memories are embarrassing and painful, searing and frightening. Yuki loves the feeling of control that it gives him when he makes Eiri bleed, but he knows that too much will drive him away for good.
Yuki doesn’t question why Eiri missed. He already knows that he doesn’t want to know. It wasn’t because of love - they were past that point already.
He doesn’t know why Tohma has let Eiri come back - something about Mika and NG and music and Eiri’s becoming legal. He wonders what Eiri did, said, to make Tohma agree.
Then again, he’s never actually asked, and he knows that he’s never going to ask, because he knows that Tohma’s not a forgiving person. He knows that Tohma’s just waiting for a reason to arrange some sort of accident that will keep him away from Eiri forever.
He knows that Tohma’s sorry that Eiri missed, and sometimes he thinks that the other man’s just jealous.
“I’m glad too.” The sentence is short, more restrained than usual. Eiri lets go of him, taking the cup from his other hand before walking towards the kitchen. Yuki’s kitchen, although they’ll never say it, wrapped in a guise of togetherness.
Yuki doesn’t wince when he sees the handprint on the side of Eiri’s neck, half-hidden by his shirt and hair. It’s almost perfect, bruises spreading like a river of ink under his pale skin. He only hopes that it’ll be gone by the time that someone comes to check up on them - someone always comes to check up on them. That was part of the deal, too.
The mark has to be gone, or Tohma will not be the only one who arranges accidents.
He is vaguely glad that Eiri seems to like it rough, even if it isn’t about pleasure at all.
Yuki follows the boy into the next room, setting at the table as Eiri begins to make breakfast. “You’re beautiful,” he says slowly, carefully modulating his voice into a light slur. “You make me want to drink.”
The boy slows but doesn’t turn around. Yuki is impressed. Eiri always seems to know what Yuki means - means to say, means to do, means not to do and then does anyway.
“Yeah,” Eiri repeats himself before going back to the task at hand, the graceful movement of his back revealing none of his emotions. Yuki knows that he’s disposed of all of the alcohol in the apartment, but they can deal with that later. Until then, that’s what secret flasks and bars are for.
He tried to love Eiri, truly he did, but fairytales don’t come true. And now that Eiri’s growing up, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this reality, either.
They eat silently, each not meeting the other’s eyes. “What are you thinking about?” Yuki asks, watching as Eiri pushes food around his plate.
“Japan,” he begins slowly. “My father’s ill. Mika and Tohma both want me to go back for awhile, set things right with the old bastard.”
It is rare that Eiri shows this much emotion anymore, and Yuki is surprised at his honesty. “Ayaka?” he questions.
“Probably. I thought that he had pushed her off to Tatsuha - but they’re stubborn, all of them.” There’s a fire in Eiri’s eyes that Yuki sees out of the bedroom once in a blue moon, and it fascinates him. “The bastard just won’t accept that I’m never going to go back to stay.”
Yuki nods, thinking it over. “And you’re going to humor everyone and go anyway?”
“I have to,” Eiri replies, playing with his fork. “Tohma has connections. He’s threatening to block the Japanese printing of my latest book.” He begins to laugh. “The fangirls would kill him, though, if my editor didn’t. That doesn’t seem to faze him, though.”
Yuki joins in with his laughter, and the apartment suddenly embodies the sun instead of merely reflecting it. He wonders briefly if this is kind of relationship that they could have had, once, but pushes the thought away. Maybes are even scarcer than second chances, and much more dangerous.
When they’re calm again, he asks, “What about me, Eiri?” His eyes are the ones that burn now, challenging Eiri to defy him.
Eiri doesn’t take the challenge and even smiles in the afterglow. He touches Yuki’s hand before replying. “You’re coming with me, although you’ll have to -“ he pauses, his eyes worried, “I mean, we’re not - I don’t like men. However, I don’t trust you enough to leave you here on your own, either.” It’s a blunt statement, heartfelt and tinged with fear and another emotion that Yuki cannot name.
The quickest to love are the easiest to ensnare, and everyone can see the pattern. Yuki sees it and twists it to his advantage, as does Tohma. They are two spiders twisting in a web of their own design, the only ones who are guaranteed safe passage through the hells that they have created.
“Of course not,” Yuki says smoothly, bitter only because it is true.
***
Tohma is waiting for them at the airport with a limo, all empty smiles and superficial words. His eyes are sweet when he greets Eiri, but his mask is back in place when he glares coolly at the boy’s companion. When they shake hands, Yuki realizes that Tohma is wearing gloves, and he knows that they’re for him.
Should murder be required before they arrive at the hotel, there will be no blood on Seguchi Tohma’s hands.
Tohma is a priss, but his ability to hate is legendary, and he’d stopped liking Yuki years ago. As far as Yuki is concerned, the feeling is neutral.
He forces himself to listen to Eiri’s excited chatter as the car rolls out of the garage, secure now that he is in Tohma’s presence. He wonders why Eiri doesn’t stay with the other man if he knows that he is safe with him. However, he knows that, even if Eiri desired it, Yuki wouldn’t let him go.
Yuki keeps his senses alert even after silence falls, wondering what will happen when Eiri realizes that Tohma is not a god and Tohma realizes that Yuki’s deal has been forged with lies.
The third man shifts in his seat and folds his hands in his pink-suited lap. “I hope that you do understand, Kitazawa-san, that it isn’t possible for you to stay in the family complex.” His dead smile cuts through Yuki like a razor, whispering that Tohma knows what he is.
Yuki hates Tohma for that smile because it makes him feel like they’re one of a kind.
“I’ve already made reservations for you at a nearby hotel. Of course, you’ll be introduced to everyone,” he says, more for Eiri’s sake than anyone else’s. “But Uegusi-san was quite clear that he desires to be surrounded only by family during this difficult time.”
“Of course,” Yuki replies pleasantly, smiling at Eiri reassuringly. “Anything to make this visit go as smoothly as possible.” Privately, he wonders if the hotel has a bar. Eiri’s raised eyebrow tells him that he knows what Yuki is thinking, and that he doesn’t approve. Yuki doesn’t know why he needs Eiri’s approval anyway, but he thinks that Tohma would be too careful to make a mistake like that - unless he’s even more twisted than he had thought.
When Tohma is involved, anything is possible, and Yuki pretends not to notice when the other man’s hand lingers on Eiri’s shoulder for a little too long.
***
Eiri’s right - it is a plot to get him together with Ayaka, a plot that openly fails miserably. Only his father refuses to see it, and the drama that he creates is enough to actually make himself ill and delay their departure for the States.
“I don’t know why he thinks that I’m suddenly going to be the perfect son, like my brother,” Eiri rants one evening, pacing up and down in Yuki’s hotel room. His protections are slipping down, helped by the constant presence of Tohma, and Yuki is obsessed with watching him fall apart like this.
“Perfect son?” he repeats. “Isn’t Tatsuha a popstar-obsessed womanizer?”
“Yes and yes,” his lover admits, dropping down to sit beside Yuki on the bed. The other man strokes his hair comfortingly as they twist around to face each other. He hopes that Eiri won’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “Maybe ‘perfect’ isn’t the right word, but he loves Japan and the temple. He’s a good priest, and I can’t imagine him leaving.”
Yuki raises an eyebrow as he runs his hands over the buttons on Eiri’s shirt. “Even for love?”
“Even for love,” Eiri agrees.
Yuki has to wonder if Eiri knows what love is, but they don’t talk about things like that.
The boy continues talking. “Only one more day, and then we can go home. I think that Mika is going to take up my case with the old bastard and try to convince him to stop making a fool of himself.” He grins. “I think that Tatsuha and Ayaka will look great together, don’t you?”
“You’re vain,” Yuki half-teases, wrapping his arms around Eiri and pulling him in for a kiss. The even stronger than usual bite behind it surprises Yuki; it is almost enough to make him wish that Tohma is around more. There is something about Tohma that brings Eiri back to life, that makes him secure in his own skin.
“Hey!” Eiri takes a moment to get the joke, but his eyes widen as he does. He starts to say more, but Yuki puts a hand on his neck and tightens it slightly.
In the moments before sex, Yuki thinks that their guise of normalcy is almost perfect.
As they lie together on the bed, he is glad that most of the visible bruises are gone, although he scorns that he cannot put them back tonight.
***
As the plane rises to cruising altitude, Yuki leans over to see what Eiri is reading. “A magazine about bands?” he asks incredulously, taking it and flipping blankly through the pages.
Eiri nods, already disappearing back into himself. “Tohma gave it to me. He thought that I might be interested in reading about Bad Luck and ASK - NG’s - his - latest conquests. He thought that I could base a novel off of it - love on the road. That’s been done to death, but…” His eyes stare out of the window at the clouds, and it seems that the further away that he gets from Japan, the more that he fades.
A picture has caught Yuki’s eye and he pauses at a photo of a boy in a ridiculously skimpy outfit, his pink hair and violet eyes reflecting the lights of the stage. He’s smiling openly, holding his microphone like it’s a part of him. Behind him stands a black-haired man, slightly older, with dropping eyes and a vicious glare.
Eiri glances at the magazine again. “You’re staring, Yuki,” he criticizes, and then says, “The droopy-eyed one has the same vibe that you and Tohma give off when you’re angry.”
Yuki forces himself to smile, wrapping an arm just a little to tightly around Eiri’s shoulders as he closes the magazine. He doesn’t say anything, but he hopes that Eiri falls asleep soon so that he can order a glass - or two, or an entire bottle - of wine.
The boy with the purple eyes has the same smile as Eiri, and it scares the shit out of him. He leans back and hopes that the miles pass by quickly and that Japan will return to being just a dreamland.
Later, when he’s back and safe in New York, he will burn the magazine and pretend that he’s always been blind and that everything is - that everything has always been - all right.
Comments/critques/advice? They will be greatly appreciated <3 .