Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ That time of the month ❯ That time of the month ( Chapter 1 )

Hiro resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the plaintive sniff beside him. He didn't even need to look over to know that the boy stetched out on the other side of the bed was attempting to drench the pillow.

 

“Shuichi if you miss him then go-”

 

“I don't miss him!” Shuichi denied loudly, smothering another sniff. “I'm...” he shifted, obviously racking his brain for an excuse. “Cold! I'm just really cold. It's freezing in here!”

 

Now Hiro did roll his eyes. “Then get a blanket.”

 

“You're so mean!” The pout rang clearly in the pink-haired boy's voice. “Why can't we just cuddle? We used to cuddle all the time.”

 

“That was before Yuki-san.”

 

The forbidden name slipped out before Hiro could stop it. For a second there was utter silence. Then, suddenly, a wail sent the alley cats outside scrambling for cover in fear of disaster.

 

“YUKI YOU IDIOT!” Shuichi bellowed, punching the pillow on his side of the bed. “You... you JERK! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T KICK ME OUT ANYMORE! WHAAAA.”

 

“Shu-”

 

“You evil bastard!”

 

“Shuichi, you realize he can't hear you right?”

 

“You're always saying mean things and you insult my music and you're so cold! Why can't you just be nice to me?” Viciously he slammed his fist into the pillow repeatedly, no doubt imagining it was a pale face with piercing eyes. “I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING! Yuki, you BASTARD!” The singer slumped forward, misjudging the length of the bed and slamming his head against the wall. “Yuki...” he moaned, tears streaming down his face. “Yuki...”

 

Stifling a sigh of impatience, Hiro patted his friend's back.

 

“What should I do Hiro? What if he really never wants to see me again? What if what I did was so horrible he can't look at me anymore? What if Yuki...” he broke down in sobs again.

 

“Hai, hai,” the guitarist intoned, less than comforting. He reached over to his desk and pulled out a wrapped package. “Here. Have chocolate.” For a moment, Hiro feared the crying would only start all over again.

 

“Hi...Hiro!” Hiro landed with a pained 'oof' on the tatami floor, Shuichi's flying tackle completely unexpected. “Aw, Hiro.” The shorter boy's strangle-hug threatened to cut off the red-head's air. “I knew you'd understand! You're the best friend ever!” Shuichi retreated to a corner to gnaw on his bar of dark chocolate. “You know, Yuki bought me chocolate the other day,” the boy giggled, crunching the candy. “He was just walking home and decided to buy me something. It was so sweet, he was embarrassed and everything. Well, as embarrassed as Yuki can ever be. And when I hugged him he said... he said...” The boy hiccuped, and bravely fought back another round of wails. “He... he's not bad. He just doesn't know how to say what he feels.” Somehow Shuichi sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

 

'Where is that bastard?' Hiro wondered frantically, checking the clock for the fifth time in twenty minutes. 'Damn him, he's already-'

 

A knock sounded at the front door.

 

“Oh Thank you God!” Hiro blurted, not caring whether is friend heard or not. He dashed to the front door and yanked it open, glaring at the man outside. “You're late,” he snapped irritably.

 

Yuki glared right back. “Where is he?”

 

A half-eaten bar of chocolate crashed into the door-frame, barely missing the writer's head.

 

“Go. Away.” Shuichi huffed, his fists clenched tightly, his face red with anger.

 

“Look brat-” Yuki took a step forward, and was rewarded with the poor, battered pillow being chucked at his head.

 

“I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU!” By the time Yuki recovered, Shuichi was gone, and a slam echoed through the tiny apartment.

 

“Shit. He made it to the bathroom.”

 

Luckily, this time Hiro had remembered to take the lock off the bathroom door.

 

Shuichi crouched in the empty bathtub, looking every bit as miserable as he probably felt. “Yuki, you jerk,” he muttered, seeing the blond in the doorway. “I said I was sorry about finishing your stupid cologne. You didn't have to get so mad. What wrong with me wanting to smell like you? So what if I want to feel like you're close to me all the time?”

 

The tension seemed to fade out of the writer's lean form. “You really are a moron, aren't you?” Shuichi sniffled, and pulled his knees in closer. “Look, enough with this idiocy. Let's just go home.”

 

“I'm staying with Hiro tonight.”

 

'Dear God,' Hiro prayed fervently from his front-row seat for the unfolding drama, 'please let them work this out. I can't deal with this all night!'

 

“Wait! What are you... YUKI!”

 

Hiro's attention snapped back to his private soap opera as Yuki scooped up the protesting strawberry-haired boy and slung him over his shoulder. “Yuki! Put me down right now! Yuki!” Yuki swatted the boy's rear, not enough to hurt but enough to draw angry squawks of indignation. Purposefully he strode to the door, somehow managing to keep his balance when Shuichi kicked and wriggled.

 

Peace settled over the small apartment as the pair disappeared, taking the wailing and screaming with them. Tiredly, Hiro sank onto the bed and surveyed the damage. One mangled pillow, a chocolate puddle in the doorway; the apartment had gotten off relatively unscathed this time. At least there was no determined person kicking in doors or any hysterical tossing of kitchen utensils. Everything would go back to normal fairly quickly. Shuichi would be his normal, hyper self tomorrow and this incident would be forgotten.

 

Hiro groaned inwardly. Forgotten, that is, until Shuichi overreacted again. God, Hiro HATED this time of the month.