Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Isn't Enough ❯ Chapter 1

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I know Yuki loves somebody else. He says he loves me, but it just sounds like something he does for sex. Don't get me wrong, I live for the sex. (Well, I know I'd die without it.) It's just... I feel like an available body. Something he uses to pretend he's with someone else.

 

When he touches me, it's like he's looking for something. He touches me everywhere. Yuki's smooth. He uses his whole hand, presses his palms up against my skin. It's so warm, so good. His fingers are like feathers. He moves his hands all over. He rubs himself on me, like an animal. Once, he stood up on the bed, took my leg and ground on it like a pole dancer.

 

He always tells me he loves me, when we begin. He's so good in bed. Then he says I am so bad, when it's over. It's all because I'm such a pushover when it comes to Yuki. I'd... I would do anything for him. There's nothing too sick or weird I wouldn't do. Too bad just wanting to make him happy isn't enough.

 

Yeah, well. At least he knows I love him. Right? I shouldn't be tripping out, since I keep doing it. That's what Hiro says. (Of course, Hiro's not exactly impartial. I mean... he's kind of into me. I think. That's what he says. It's probably true, since he likes to get drunk and kind of mess around with me- I mean used to mess around. We don't do that, anymore. At least, not for the last few weeks.) Well, whatever. Hiro's pretty harsh when he's judging me. And he's always judging me. So, he's not pulling any punches to get into these pants. (It took Cuervo to do that, last time.)

 

Thing is... I am tripping out. Hard. Yuki's mine, damnit. Even if I'm not a great lover, I'm the guy willing to do it for him: Proudly! And, he knows it. Man, I show him every day. I can't even help it- I don't try to show him. It's who I am. I spazz out and scream his name in concert. Like a woman, I act like his wife. I gave up my manhood, damnit.

 

People act like I'm a girl. A girl. I became a girl for him. The least he could do is say 'I love you,' afterwards. Not just before.

 

"Hey, Shuichi?"

 

"Not now, Hiro." We're taking a break, outside the recording studio. But, I'm not in a happy-go-lucky kind of mood. Not like Mr. Sunshine-Guitarist. I don't want to look at him, right now. "I'm busy." I feel like hitting something. The last thing I need is for Hiro to call me a moody girl. So I keep my back turned. I hide behind the citrus soda. Ryuichi's doing a dance in the bushes with Komoguro. I try to pay attention. I should be so excited. After all, Ryuichi's stripped to his pink tidy-whities. He's rubbing pixie stick powder into his nipples. That's supposed to be sexy.

 

Well, compared to Yuki? No, it's not all that sexy. Too bad Yuki loves somebody else. Somebody else I'm going to have to kill. Too bad about murder being a crime. I'm not going to like jail. Unless I can have conjugal visitations with Yuki.

 

"Hey, snap out of it."

 

Ouch. "Don't shove a guy with a drink." Not that he made me spill anything. I just don't want to talk to Hiro, right now. I don't want to talk to anyone, right now. My nerves are shot. I don't want to talk, anymore. I just want to fix this fucked up situation. It's wrong. Yuki's mine. Mine . I staked my claim. He said he was my lover.

 

"Quit pouting."

 

"Hiro..." My fist is tight. Like my stomach. I'm too wound up- I don't want to be this way- and I just have to release this feeling. I have to let go. I have to hit him. "Will you please leave me the fuck alone?"

 

I had to. Just had to. But, I didn't want to. I know he doesn't want to be shitty with me, either. It's just the way things are. Fucked up.

 

Hiro's laid out on the gravel. Pigeons are cooing, like they're asking whether he's okay. He's coughing. Oh, please. I didn't hit him so hard. "Did you really want to see Ryiuchi strip, alone, that bad?" Hiro didn't cough when he spoke, though. Even once.

 

"Faker." I stomp him in the gut. Hell, I ought to leave. Leave Hiro right here, so he can impress that Seguchi asshole some more with his amazing impersonation of an old lady with a broken hip. "Maybe next time you'll leave me alone."

 

Great parting words. You have got to admit: I can make one hell of an exit.