Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Losing Your Mind, Whats Love Got to Do With It? ❯ Chapter 1

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Losing your mind, Whats love got to do with it?

Disclaimer:my story! but i do not own gravitation.

Warnings mature themes and yaoi.
Thank you for reading.


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It was a disturbance. A proverbial thorn in his paw and it drove him screaming silently into the darkness of his mind. He was falling, failing, and extinguishing. He was trapped, confined by his own flaws, and crashing in flames. He was losing it, losing it all. Everything was slipping from his grasp; loose water drops that he couldn't hold on to. This constant fact blared in his ears, causing his fingers to tremble, and slide shakily along the wood. He could not think, could not comprehend, he could not succeed. Why had he become this mess of instability? Why had he transpired to the image of a loser? Throw him upon the ground and let him lie in the dirt. It would all be the same. He would just sit composed in the dark room of his employment and sulk. He would do just what he had been accomplishing for the last month. Minutes seemed to bleed into hours and the reward for such devotion was the blaring of missed notes.

The name Bad Luck now screamed in his face like sticky sarcasm. Taunting him; he was a fool. How was he supposed to know that such a name would return to haunt him. He sighed, his back arching, aching, and straining. He groaned, his teeth bitting into soft flesh. He moaned, everything was a mess. For past five minutes the thumping of wrong notes resonated from his guitar. The instrument was a masterpiece, a B.C Rich White Platinum Warlock. Though, even with such a piece of perfection what he desired could not be reach. He wanted the 3rd string E on the second fret, not the fourth string on the 3rd fret.

Another mistake to toss upon the pile.

How annoying, how diabolical unforgivable. It was an assault upon his mind that he could not play a single song without it being laced with flaws. Fearing what would happen next, he grasped the sides of his head with long fingers. A wave of anger and frustration swallowed him. Another wave struck him, tension streaked with the dull throbbing of a headache. He was siting on the floor of NG Studios trying desperately to finish a god damn song without messing up. Such an impossible act it seemed to him lately. He could not play, could not do want he had been chosen to do. This was his profession and he could not succeed in it.

It was time to rally up the score, to award points to the devil that had written the song. Zero to one, he was losing greatly. How could such a pink hair baka beat him?

Gently, and with more gracefulness than he thought he possessed, he released his hold on his instrument. It slipped to the carpet, its body sliding against cheap fabric. He mimicked its movements, stretching out until his head collided with the wall. A hollow thud followed his actions. The noise was a monster. He suppressed the urge to scream. His headache was an assailant now, trudging through his muscles, and forcing him to bring a callused digit to rub them.

The light produced from the halogen lights was painful. How he wished to become invisible. He began to question, to wonder just what was causing him, Nakano Hiroshi, to corrupt his playing. Was it the head splitting migraines? He had been acquiring them for almost three weeks now. No, that was not the culprit. That was not the answer he was seeking. They were a problem not a reason. They were just a foot note on his mammoth list of problems. In the back of his mind, he knew what was causing his mess. He knew without a doubt what was instituting this, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Shifting his eyes to the side, he cast a wary glance at his forgotten instrument. Why did it seem like he had tossed it away? Grimacing, he watched as it's shape changed. Transforming from its once mystical and siren like form into nothing more than a reoccurring nightmare, a continuous abrasion on his mental status, and an even more irritating lack talent on his part.

Averting his glaze from the Warlock he sought out the round, ticking clock.

“Four and a half hours,” He breathed, tilting his head down to stare at the gray, cheaply made rug. His voice contained softness, his eyes portrayed sadness. Four and a half hours...that was how long he had been trying to finish the song. “Four and a half hours,” he murmured a little louder, looking straight his voice gaining power as his eye's flashed with anger. “Hn,” closing his eyes again he swallowed before unleashing.

“FOUR AND A HALF HOURS DAMNIT!”

It had never, never taken him that long to play one song. In four hours he could compose two songs, play them and then play several of Bad luck’s songs repeatedly. He had messed up before, been like everyone else. He was not perfect but at least he tried.

Letting out another sigh of frustration he stared up into the ceiling. Letting his eyes wander they fell about the aimless task of counting the bumps that littered its surface.

“Like stars in the sky,” he muttered, glancing back at the clock. Its time portrayed 8:30, “I guess everybody left. Hn, even Fujisaki and that guy almost lives here." He smirked at the sudden thought of his over obsessed co-worker. The guy may be cute, gifted with a sultry body, but he could truly be a drag. Bringing a hand to his face again, he brushed it against his mahogany bangs. It was time to acknowledge the part of the reason. It was time to visit his parents.

"Hn let the picking and life criticizing begin."

It was not that he despised his parents or wished to escape from them forever. It was just simply the way they acted that caused him to shy away. Ever since he gained his freedom from their parental bindings and chains, he had lived his life the way he wanted and had never looked back. This small fact had served to do nothing but cause shame to his parents, or so they said. Who knew what really swimmed around in their heads?

“Ha." He let out a little laugh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I should not talk about such things. They might lead to other topics that I might have to face, and then I’ll be forced to admit things about myself that I don’t want to. I suppose I should go home at least, to try to get some sleep. or something to eat.”

He wanted to believe that it was his parents that made him so unbalanced but he knew that there was more to it. Lately he had been struggling with himself and his own sexuality. He didn’t want to admit the truth that harbored inside, especially to his parents and their traditional, realistic ways.

Sighing heavily, he tried to push the thoughts from his mind. This act was slowly consuming him. Ignoring, pretending, and acting. Acting that his every day routine was not marred. It was great to pretend that his whole entire world wasn’t slowly crumbly at the seams. To illuminate this fact you only had to look at where he was. He was sitting on the floor comparing bumps on the ceiling to stars. He truly must be losing his mind. Every time he lied or fled from the truth he was denying what he really was, and that was something he couldn’t take. Having to cover up everything that he did, hiding in the shadows, it was slowly making him forget what was tangible and what was really just lies.

Everything was an illusion, nothing more or less.

Truly confusing it was. How could such thoughts transpire simply from guilt? Could he be that weak or was it an omen to take a risk and tell the world what he really was? He didn’t know, and he was beginning to burn himself out. Something had to be done, and fast. He knew he couldn’t hide it anymore, it wasn’t fair to anyone. But the truth would have to wait. Right now he had other problems to worry about. One was his playing, the other was Ayaka. Because he was so confused lately, and his skills had been thrown out of proportion he would spend hours awake trying to concentrate. Sleepless nights and consuming nothing but coffee had replaced everything else, including his girlfriend. He knew it wasn’t right to avoid the Kyoto beauty, but it was just easier to pretend that he wasn’t at home than to actually face her. He couldn’t stand the way she looked at him. Her eyes filled with love and devotion, expecting him to feel the same. It mad him ill. But she didn’t seem to notice; she just said that that was how all long distance relations worked. He didn’t believe her. Despite what the saying said, absence and separation didn’t always make the heart grow fonder. He was quickly losing his infatuation with the girl, a habit that he had adapted to fix all his problems. To lose interest with things and simply forget about them when they didn’t seem to be going right.

But was there really a problem to fix? Things were fine the way they were right? He sighed and clutched his sides, hugging himself in warmth. It was getting late. He grabbed his transformed instrument and packed it up. Without looking back he left the building. He drove back to his apartment and entered soundlessly. No was there to care about the noise. Switching on the light he headed towards his room where he would spend another night in unmerciful slumber, another night that he would spend alone and confused.

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