Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Doing You a Favor ❯ Chapter 1

I think you like to be the victim, just to spite people who love you. They aren't perfect, can't fix your life, and you hate them for it. And you call Shuichi a brat?

 

It takes one to know one.

 

You think you're so deep, posing at your window like a tragic lost boy. You aren't lost. You know exactly where you are, what you are. The sick thing is how you look down at people who don't buy into your little game; like we're too stupid to understand you.

 

Well fuck off, asshole. I get you. You're a poser. That crap might come off as cool to Shuichi, it might string Aeka along, but it is a fucking joke, to me. A joke you play on other people.

 

I listen to Aeka and Shuichi go on and on about how much they love you, how brilliant and great you are. How sad it is that you can't love- but oh, how you want to. Do you? Do you really? I think people do what works for them. It seems to me that you've got quite the little racket. You want to be fucked up. Because if you were fixed, you wouldn't be all that interesting, anymore.

 

You're not so fucking deep, Yuki Eiri. You only think you are. Isn't that always the way? The biggest fools are the ones who don't know what they are.

 

Someone needs to kick your ass. That's your problem. Like I tell Shuichi, all the time: Guys who haven't had their asses kicked turn into bitches. He whines about how you were hurt. Like that's your excuse for hurting everyone else. It won't wash with me. I'm sick of being the one who listens when you won't, of being the one who cares when you don't, of being the man you won't be.

 

I wrned you, didn't I? I told you. I'd come back if you didn't straighten up. And you didn't listen, did you? You just kept on plaing this game. Making Shuichi chase you down to America, making him act a fool. And you were enjoying every second of your posing.

 

You worried him sick. Do you even care?

 

I spent that whole time on the phone with Aeka, listening to her cry her eyes out over some poser, while my best friend played out his stupid Knight in Shining Armor fantasy with you.

 

I hope you had a good time. I hope you made it count. Because that was the last time.

 

You see my motorcycle? I know you do. Because I can see you at that fucking window. Yeah, you do. That's right. i'm here for you, asshole. You know what for. Turn out that light That's right. Come down that fancy elevator. I'm here to bring it.

 

All the crying. All the misery and bullshit you dish out... I'm here for you, asshole.

 

I don't even have to ring the bell.

 

"I've been expecting this," you say. You just slump at the door. Like you expect sympathy. Good thing you've got enough pride to give me a dirty look. "I know what you want. But you'll tell me anyway." You take that fucking cigarette out of your mouth, and wave me on. Like I need any more encouragement.

 

"I'm doing you a favor, asshole."

 

"Oh?"

 

"I'm here to teach you."

 

"Really?" You sneer. I crack my knuckles. You finally stand up straight, when you hear that. "And what, exactly, could you teach me?"

 

"How to be a man." And I clock you, right in the mouth.