Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Gravity Falls:Reaching the Stars ❯ Chapter 1

Author: JadeHeart
Fandom: Gravitation (anime only)
Warnings: reference to gang rape, graphic sex, bad language
Author's Notes: This story follows on from my other `Gravity Falls: Crashing to Earth' in a way. However, it has a very different tone to `Crashing to Earth' and each are a separate story in their own right.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this, they belong to the creators of `Gravitation'.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Yuki didn't know what was going on.

 

He had reached out to Shuichi, grabbing his arm forcefully, pulling him toward him as he usually did, his actions automatic, with little thought behind them. But instead of the instant submissiveness he was used to, instead of the feel of two thin arms wrapping around his waist eagerly. Instead of the compliant body moulding to his - he felt a resistance. Instead of moving forward, he felt Shuichi pull back. Away from him.

 

He had immediately released the boy and brushed him aside, shrugging away his stammered apologies and excuses, angry at the signs of refusal. He had stormed into his office, saying he had work to do, almost slamming the door behind him.

 

He sat staring at his laptop, the screen blank. He had been sitting like that for some time. Three cigarette butts littered the ash tray next to him, another between his fingers almost burnt down. He gritted his teeth and fumed in frustration. What was wrong with the brat?! He growled to himself, stubbing the butt down violently, and crushing it. He reached for his packet and realised it was empty. Damn!

 

He opened the drawer of his desk. The brat had been a pain for ages. First he had stayed with Hiro for a while, which had irked Yuki and he didn't know why. He hadn't really thought about why Shuichi hadn't returned to his place, why he had decided to stay over at Hiro's. He had actually welcomed the peace and quiet. The pesky kid would turn up eventually - he unfortunately always did.

 

Then he had found out from Hiro of the beating Shuichi had got at the hands of Taki. Well, he had put a stop to that. It was over with, finished, and Taki wouldn't be hurting Shuichi ever again.

 

Shuichi had then returned not long after, just as Yuki had predicted, and his quiet peacefulness was soon shattered by the exuberant enthusiasm that boiled constantly out of the boy. He was exhausting to have around. He drove Yuki to complete distraction most times! But he was also young, good looking and sometimes very, very cute, and Yuki didn't mind indulging in that now and again. And it had been a while since he had.

 

However, suddenly Shuichi seemed so extremely busy, working late each night, often coming home well after Yuki had gone to bed, quite often leaving at first light. Yuki would generally find Shuichi already up and dressed from where he had been sleeping on the lounge when he rose for breakfast. He would generally get nothing more than a cheery `good morning and bye!', with a cheeky smile, occasionally, a passing peck on the cheek, as the slight figure disappeared out the door. And the frustration inside Yuki had continued to grow, to boil….to seethe.

 

So tonight he had made his move, showing Shuichi in no uncertain terms that he was not to be put off this time and Shuichi….pulled away.

 

What the hell was wrong with the kid?! Yuki thought, hand scrabbling through the clutter in the drawer, searching for his cigarettes. He was sure he had another packet in here. Usually the brat clung to him like a bloody limpet! He usually likes all the touchy-feely stuff!

 

His fingers closed around something other than a cigarette packet, something small and round. He pulled it out. Lying on his open palm was a roll of film, the roll of film that he had taken from Taki. He must have just tossed it into the drawer when he had emptied the pockets of his coat, not even giving it a passing thought. He had completely forgotten it was there.

 

He frowned as he looked at that innocent object. Just what had Taki really thought he could accomplish with photos of Shuichi being beat up? Yuki really wasn't that concerned about it, and he didn't think too many other people would have been either. It seemed a rather pointless exercise.

 

A worm of a thought began to squirm in the back of his mind, in an area of his thoughts that he generally kept tightly locked down. Thoughts linked to the past; the past he wanted nothing more than to forget.

 

He closed his fist around the film, gripping it tight enough to feel the end digging into his flesh, deep enough to almost cut. He abruptly pushed his chair back and stood, opening the study door and walked out.

 

Shuichi lay huddled on the lounge, knees drawn up, arms locked around them, chin resting there. His eyes were fixed on the TV and Yuki could see he was watching one of his many beloved tapes of Nittle Grasper. Although the pose was familiar, there still seemed something wrong with it. With him.

 

Yuki pulled on his coat, thrusting his hand into the pocket to drop the film in. As he pulled on his shoes, he spoke to the still figure, “I'm going out for a bit.” and turned to the door. He half expected Shuichi to questioned him, complain that he wasn't saying where he was going, or why, and couldn't he, Shuichi, come with him?

 

But there was none of that. Just a quiet, “Okay,”. That was unnerving, and Yuki couldn't help but slam the door on his leaving.

 

He walked down the street, coat flapping around his legs in the wind, collar turned up against the cold. It was late, nearly midnight. He continued to walk for two blocks to reach his destination. Here was a 24 hour shop, not unusual in itself, but this one also had the facilities to develop film whilst you waited. He handed over the roll and went to get himself some cigarettes, buying a second packet as a spare for his study. He wandered outside and lit up, leaning back against the wall, cigarette between his lips, hands thrust in his pockets. He could still feel that worm turning in his brain, and as the time ticked on and his cigarette burnt down, it was joined by another worm, this time churning in his stomach. He watched nothing, paying no mind to his surroundings, merely smoking.

 

Finally he looked at his watch. Should be done, he thought, and dropped the butt he was still holding to the ground to join the others littered around his feet. He turned and re-entered the shop. The packet was pushed across the counter to him and he merely picked it up, thrusting it into his deep coat pockets. Silently he paid and left. He walked along slowly, hand resting over the packet, feeling the paper crinkling under his fingers as he moved. He stopped outside his door, making no move to insert his key and enter.

 

He felt the darkness of the night pressing in around him, starting to feel like he was suffocating. He realised he was breathing fast, too fast, his heart beginning to pound. With hands that slightly shook he withdrew the packet, opening it, reaching in and pulling the coloured glossy prints out. They fanned in his large hand and his eyes fixed on the images branded there.

 

He felt his chest constrict, his guts knot. He felt like his head was going to explode. He couldn't stop himself as he looked at each photo, one at a time, seeing the scene played out before him in still life. He mind began to scream as he eyes fixed on that one familiar face. A face distorted with pain, with tears as he had never seen before, with despair, horror, agony. Expressions that had no place on that face, and Yuki would never have believed could ever have been on that face. Expressions that Yuki never wanted to have ever seen on that face, for he had never wanted that face to have known those feelings. He knew those feelings, his face had expressed them - many years ago. But this young face should never have been touched by any of this.

 

His hands were trembling, with pain, with hurt, and with a deep, dark, foreboding anger; an anger full of blackness and death. An anger he had felt once before, and was stilled only when it had been washed away with blood.

 

He stood there in the night, his door light pooling around him, as his whole body shook. He continued to stare at the pictures; they were seared into the back of his eyes, into his mind. His vision was fading in and out, black spots dancing before him, the images growing hazy.

 

Then something fell. Something wet, a droplet, falling to land on the photo. It landed on the face the photo had captured, and slid downwards. Startled, Yuki realised that it was a tear. He was crying. He could feel other tears now, unshed ones clinging to his lashes, a cold trail down his cheek where others had fallen.

 

He turned and slumped back against the door, head leaning backwards as he gazed unseeing upwards, hands hanging limply by his side, one still clutching the horrific pictures. He felt another tear escape from the corner of his eye and slip downwards.

 

He understood now. Understood what was wrong with Shuichi. How had he been so blind?! All the signs had been there for him to see, and who better to have been able to pick up on those signals but someone who had been there himself? He should have seen!

 

He felt anger again, not the black killing rage, but just anger. Anger at himself, anger at Shuichi, anger at Hiro. Hiro obviously knew. That was why Shuichi had stayed with him, had gone to him after what Taki had done. Hiro hadn't said anything to him, and Yuki was angry about that. The bastard should have told me! Shuichi was with me! Shuichi should have come immediately to him, not to Hiro. Why did the kid do that? Go to his best mate instead of Yuki, after all his protestations of love? Damn kid! He should have come to /him/!

 

But, said a small voice in the back of his mind, cutting through the anger, what had he ever done to show Shuichi that he would have been able to accept what had happened to the boy. That he would have been able to comfort the hurts, both physical and emotional. Nothing - never. All he had ever shown the boy was how sarcastic, how cold, how uncaring he was. And he had told the boy on more than one occasion that he was nothing more than a convenience at this time. No wonder Shuichi hadn't come to him.

 

What did amaze him was that Shuichi returned at all. After what he had gone through, why did he still then come back to be with Yuki? No wonder Shuichi had made certain he was `too busy' for anything, always rushing off. Spending time with Yuki, but making certain it was never too long, or could become something more than just some moments together.

 

No wonder tonight, when Yuki had grabbed him, he had pulled away. Yuki was surprised the kid hadn't run away screaming. That one action of his would have brought all those buried memories crashing to the surface. Yuki understood that only too well.

 

He raised the photos, looking at them again, this time mentally distancing himself from the stark reality they represented. He could picture it all only too well. Shuichi hadn't just been raped. He had been raped multiple times. Three men - three men that took the boy's innocence, abused his body so much that blood coated it. The photos looked like they themselves were bleeding. There was a lot of blood, Yuki thought absently, a lot. He had been really badly hurt. It was a miracle he had made it to Hiro's at all. Stubborn little bugger, he thought, he wouldn't have given up that easily. He never did.

 

And he had let it all happen to protect Yuki. That much Hiro had told him, though now that he knew the full truth of what had occurred, that statement meant a lot, lot more. Shuichi took all of that, went through all of that - for him. How could the kid think Yuki was worth all that? Why was Yuki worth so much to him?!

 

Hiro would have had a job and a half looking after Shuichi during those first few days. He was a good friend to the kid. Probably the best he could have. No wonder Hiro had been so furious. He really had been ready to take Yuki on, no holds barred. Now Yuki couldn't help but wonder that just perhaps Hiro would have won their little tussle. Because he would have had a lot of rage to unleash at seeing the abuse Shuichi had suffered. Seeing it, and understanding it.

 

He reached the last of the photos. Even through the paper, the small naked body captured in it reeked of despair and pain.

 

Yuki felt his heart clench. What could he do now? Shuichi hadn't wanted him to know, hadn't said anything to him, even now. Should he confront him with this now? He couldn't show him these photos that would be just cruel and do far more damage. So what?

 

Shuichi seemed to want to still be with Yuki, he had after all returned home, but he was frightened of the physical contact. Yuki had been Shuichi's first, and he admitted that he was sometimes probably not overly gentle during sex, but Shuichi had still seemed to get pleasure from it.

 

Now…now it was completely different. Shuichi had been raped by three men, taken in the same way that Yuki had taken him. In his abused mind, the actions would be linked and, Yuki's guts churned as bile rose at this thought, so would the people. He didn't want Shuichi to think of him as the same as those men. He didn't want Shuichi to be as scarred through his life as he was. How could he bring Shuichi back? How could he help Shuichi relearn the pleasure that could be felt from this act, forget the pain and horror? How could he give Shuichi enough pleasurable experiences to wash away and bury this one horrible one?

 

He thrust the photos back into his pocket, ran a hand over his face, wiping away the traces of the tears, and turned to the door.