Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ In Love and Hate ❯ Just the Beginning ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: Kolie

Konnichiwa everyone, Kolie here with my second Gravi fan fic. I hope you all like it because I like it A LOT! It's not a going to be a very happy fan fic, that's for sure, and some serious topics will end up being dealt with here. If you don't like the sound of that, then don't read it, that's all I've got to say. And if you can't tell from the first few paragraphs then I'll explain it to you myself...SHUICHI HAS CHANGED! Yuki left him about four years ago and over that time he changed. He's not the pink-haired, J-pop baka that you all know and love anymore. In this his hair is back to black and he despises love and everything to do with it. Hate me if you want to, but I wanted to make Shuichi out to be what I think he would have turned into if Yuki never gave him the time of day. Rated R for language (angry fic means angry words), many serious topics, and attempted suicide (later chapters). Well, here we go.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation, Maki Murakami does. Despise her? Yes. Hate her? Hell no, she's a genius! I just wish I had powers that would make Yuki and Ryuichi real. retreats into closet to scheme

Just the Beginning

A raven-haired man stood in the middle of the crowded airport terminal, his amethyst eyes searching for the man in the photograph he had been given by Touma Seguchi. He hated crowds, which of course meant that he despised airports, and he would have declined if the request hadn't have been made by Seguchi in the flesh. As much as he hated the bastard, he was, after all, his boss; so now he stood in the terminal in mirrored sunglasses, surrounded by hundreds of Christmas travelers, and thinking up an evil plot of how he would kill his blonde boss when he returned to NG.

The man growled in frustration and kicked a trashcan. “Damn you, Touma!” he muttered and plopped down into one of the uncomfortable, plastic terminal chairs closest to him.

An hour passed and he saw many brunette's with blue eyes walk past him, but none were Mister Erik Ullman. The raven-haired man pulled the picture he had previously received from Seguchi from his pocket and stared at it for five minutes, engraving the man's image into his mind. The brunette's pale face was framed by his shaggy hair and his eyes stood out like icy sapphires. He was tall and in the photograph he was standing with Touma Seguchi himself and Touma's wife, Mika. How Touma knew the man, he didn't know, but he definitely wasn't Ryuichi, of that he was certain. This Erik Ullman's cerulean eyes had an icy undertone to them and Ryuichi's were, and always had been, full of nothing but happiness and love. But still...he knew that man from somewhere and it unnerved him at how he couldn't figure out how. Most likely, he'd seen him in the crowd at a concert during their American tour, but he felt like he had known him personally.

Sighing slightly in anguish, the man put the photo back into his pocket and ran his fingers through his shaggy raven-hair. He remembered when it had once been pink but quickly shook his head to dispel the memory. He didn't like the emotions or extra memories that that one memory always managed to call forth. Just like his pink hair, that part of him was gone now, and there was no need to remember any of it.

Still waiting and losing his patience half an hour later, the man absentmindedly played with the strings on his hoodie and stared off into la-la land. Boredom. A horrible emotion and one that he used to hate with almost all of his being, but now saw as a chance to think and try to write when he hadn't been able to do so in a long time. Anger. An unusual emotion for him and one usually brought forth by something like waiting an hour and a half for someone whose plane should have landed forty-five minutes ago. Definitely not a good mood for him to be in, Mister Ullman better be prepared for an earful when he finally did decide to show up because he was gonna get one.

Another half an hour passed and there was still no sign of Ullman. “Fuck this and fuck you, Touma,” the man said and turned to leave the airport. He was stopped by a few giggling cuties on his way out, asking if he happened to be Shindou of Bad Luck and he turned them down with a shake of the head and one of his award winning smiles. He left with a small smirk as the girls melted before him and found his way out to his car without being stopped again.

Out in the black sports car, the man pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number of the person he wouldn't regret yelling at later, silently fuming when the calm voice answered the phone. “How may I help you, Shindou-san?”

“Don't give me that shit, Touma,” seethed the man. “Your lover boy didn't show which leads me to ask you where in the hell he is.”

Again the calm voice replied and it only succeeded in making Shuichi even more upset. He wanted Touma to be surprised, frantic, angry; anything but calm because that meant that he already knew the news. “Mr. Ullman didn't see you so he hailed a cab and came here on his own. I'm sorry for the inconvenience but I called your cell phone and there was no answer, so-“

“Bullshit, Touma! I had my phone with me the whole time and it didn't ring once.” With that the man hung up on the bastard he had to call his boss and sped home.

At his building, he parked his car in the garage and slowly made his way up to his apartment, quickly noticing the car parked in one of 8B's parking spaces. He shared his floor with only one other flat and he groaned slightly at the idea of having a neighbor. He hadn't lived close to anyone since he left and hated the idea of having a neighbor who could act like he used to. In silence he took the elevator up to the eighth floor and unconsciously took notice of the slightly ajar door down the hall. In his kitchen he threw his keys onto the counter and pulled a beer from the refrigerator before checking the clock. Eleven-thirty. He should have been home an hour ago and would be asleep because he happened to have a tv appearance to show up at by noon.

He needed noise and he felt no remorse for his neighbor if they didn't like rock music. He pulled one of his favorite American albums from the shelf (Seether: Disclaimer II) and blared “Gasoline.” The loud music strangely helped him concentrate and soon forgot about his new neighbor by losing himself in the lyrics.

This really hadn't been his day, okay month if you really wanted to get technical with it. First, Touma had somehow figured out where he disappeared to and showed up unannounced on his doorstep a few days later with his sister. Then, Touma proceeded to update him on his ex-lover's attitude; still pink, still happy, still a baka...not surprising. And piled on top of all that, he knew that he had to return to Japan. No matter how much he hated Touma for showing up, for destroying his life, for...being alive, he hated having to admit that he had to return to his homeland even more. Why did he have to return you ask? He hadn't figured that out himself, but he knew that something was missing from this life in America that he would most likely find in Japan. He had a feeling that he knew what it was, but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself, not yet.

So, upon returning to Japan, the blonde novelist known to the world as Eiri Yuki dyed his hair brown and hid his amber eyes behind sapphire contacts. He'd even gone to the extreme of using an alias around people he didn't know, and so the American writer named Erik Ullman was born.

His arrival had been far from a good one, however, because the punk idiot that he was supposed to meet at the airport didn't show. Either that or he just blended in with the crowd around him. How that thing could blend in, he didn't know. The man in the picture that Touma had given him had shaggy black hair that framed his slightly tanned face which was inset with amethyst eyes. His right eyebrow was pierced and in the photo he was dressed in a black tee shirt and baggy blue jeans. Chains hung from his belt loops which had a studded black belt threaded through them. It looked like the picture had been taken back stage after a concert and the man's raven hair was plastered to his forehead by the sweat that dripped from every pore. He had to admit, the man was attractive, and he had kind of been looking forward to seeing the man in the flesh.

But the man hadn't shown and so Yuki had called a taxi and went to see Touma without him. The calm smile on Touma's face when Yuki stepped into the office hadn't helped to improve the man's mood any, neither did the babying tone he talked in while Yuki struggled with not reaching out and snapping the blonde's neck. He had managed to control himself, however, and left the record company half an hour later without any major incidents.

He climbed into his car (which had been conveniently parked in NG parking garage) and drove to his new apartment. It had been hard for him to sell his old home but too many memories were held within the walls of that happy place. Yeah, happy. He never admitted it (and probably never would) but that pink-haired baka had made him happier than he had probably ever been. Yuki shook his head to remove the memories, but they wouldn't leave. Those memories, like all the others from his past, haunted him in his sleep, but, unlike the happy ways these ended, the nightmares always ended in death and pain. Pain. It was all he had ever given the boy, but he always returned. That was why he had left all those years ago, to escape...to run away.

Yuki slowed and pulled into the apartment building's garage, flicking the last remnants of his cigarette out the window before cutting the engine. Both of apartment 8A's parking spots were empty, thankfully, and he silently hoped that his neighbor wasn't loud and obnoxious.

He took the long way to his apartment and his feet unconsciously lead him to the entrance of his apartment before he had time to tell them otherwise. He looked across the hallway before unlocking to door to see who exactly his neighbor was but no identification was present. A mailbox was beside the door of the home, along with an intercom, com screen, and door bell but no name was to be seen.

Why are you so nosy? What were you expecting? To see hisname there? Are you expecting himto be your neighbor? Get over yourself! He's moved on and could care less about you.

Sighing in agreement, Yuki walked into his new home and flicked on the lights before changing his mind and quickly turning them off. He really didn't care for light right now, so he checked his place out in the dark, careful not to stub his toe on any boxes. Touma had been right and, after checking that everything that had he asked for had been delivered, he went into the bathroom and took out his contacts. They always made his eyes dry and he didn't even need the damn things most of the time anyway, but...they helped to conceal part of him that he was desperately trying to forget.

He put drops into his eyes before leaving the bathroom and collapsing on the couch, putting one arm over his eyes to keep them closed. He was suddenly very tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep for at least an hour without dreams, without having to be reminded of his past even while he slept.

Right on cue, the stereo next door started to blare and his eyes flew open in anger. So much for sleeping, but the idea of finally meeting his neighbor was highly appealing. Cursing under his breath Yuki got up from the couch and crossed his apartment to the hallway. The music out in the hall was louder and, through it all, he could clearly hear his neighbor belting out the English lyrics. The man had a familiar voice and if he hadn't of been listening to rock and singing in English, Yuki could have thought that it was someone he fell in love with four years ago.

People change, Bro, they move on. Just because you still think of him as yours doesn't mean that he is.

Shut the hell up, Tatsuha. I don't care.

Whatever. When you're done lying to yourself give me a call and I'll see how I can help.

Yuki shook the memory out of his head and lifted a hand to knock on the door. From inside the apartment, a voice rang out and the volume of the stereo went down a few decibels before the door opened. Yuki's anger increased a couple notches when he saw that his neighbor was the punk that he was supposed to have met at the airport, but he managed to keep on his best “polite” smile.

“Sorry for bothering you, but I was wondering if you could keep your stereo down. I've had a busy day and am extremely tired, but it's hard to sleep with a radio blaring,” he said through slightly gritted teeth.

“Not my fault,” the man simply stated and crossed his arms over his chest.

At this Yuki lost his temper and, before he could stop himself, he had the man pinned against the wall. “What do you mean, `not my fault'? Yes, it is your fault because if you would have been at the airport instead of getting high, I would have gotten to Touma sooner.”

“Okay, first off, I don't do drugs, you biased bastard; and second, I was at the airport,” the man snarled. “I was at the airport for over two fucking hours waiting for you and you are the one that never showed up.”

“Bullshit,” Yuki said, his face inches away from a man he hadn't seen for four years. Then he made the mistake of looking into the man's eyes. There was only one person that he had ever met that had “real” amethyst eyes and this man wasn't wearing contacts. The large boyish eyes he had grown to know and love were sadder now, full of hate and sorrow, but he could still recognize them anywhere. This man was Shuichi.

People change, Bro.

Tatsuha's voice echoed in Yuki's mind as he brought his lips down to the oblivious young man's between himself and the wall, greed overcoming his senses as the familiar taste filled his mouth.

The man's eyes widened and he pushed Yuki away, a look of disgust on his face. “Get the fuck away from me, you sick bastard!” he yelled and retreated into his home, slamming and locking the door in Yuki's face.

Yuki sighed quietly and felt a warm liquid hit his cheek, not surprised to realize that he was crying, before the left the building for the night.

“That bastard!” Shuichi yelled at the mirror in his bathroom. “Just who in the hell does he think he is? Coming back after four years and thinking that he can do that?”

When Yuki had kissed Shuichi, he had seen the color of the brunette's eyes. They were amber, not blue like they had been in the picture. His eyes.

“Gods dammit!” Shuichi yelled and threw the glass he had been drinking from at the mirror.

Tears started to fall freely down Shuichi's face, and he broke down for the first time in three years. He let the sobs overcome his body as he collapsed onto the cold marble floor, and as the tears left his body so did the warmth. His whole body went cold and numb and he couldn't have moved, even if he wanted to. He reached up to grab onto the corner of the sink to pull himself up but jumped back suddenly. His hand had landed on a piece of shattered glass and the shard dug itself into his palm. Blood ran down his hand and wrist before dripping onto the floor and Shuichi couldn't help but stare at it; amazed at how little it actually hurt and how much better he felt. His tears stopped and he quickly pulled the small shard out, staring at it as the crimson flow became faster before taking the shard down to his arm.

He drew the sharp glass across his arm too many times to count before it fell from his shaking hands. He looked down at his deed, new salty tears mixing with the crimson ones on his arm and floor, to see that his arm was covered in blood. The pain that had previously been absent now returned at full force and he cradled his arm in his lap for a minute before deciding that they should be cleaned and dressed, just in case. The warm water he used to clean them with was a bitch and he debated on using rubbing alcohol before he felt his cuts start to scream at just the thought.

He left the bathroom and considered calling Hiro, thinking that the auburn-haired man should know about Yuki's return and his little “slip up,” but decided against it. First of all, Hiro would come over and kill Yuki with his bare hands, and then beat the shit out of Shuichi for being reduced to his old habits again. So, instead, Shuichi sighed and climbed into bed. He had that television appearance that he had to show up to tomorrow by noon and it wouldn't be good for him to show up late and give Sakano another heart attack, now would it?

Sleep wouldn't come, however, and so he gave up on it and got his guitar. A tab that he had written earlier that week but didn't still didn't have any lyrics to placed itself in the front of his mind, and he started to play it. The words seemed to pour out of his mouth now, and he soon had a whole song written down on the pad of paper lying open in front of him. He sighed as he put his guitar down and picked up the pad of paper, writing the title of the song on the top of the page. Razor's Edge.

TBC...
------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------A/N: Welp, there's chapter one. I hope you all enjoyed! Please R&R and tell me what you thought…