Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Riven Sky ❯ One-Shot

Riven Sky

Healing should come in one sweet kiss and stay that way. It worked that way in his books. Cold, the air moved over his bare skin. Painful, it almost felt good. Sweat cooled his hair more, stuck blond to blond. Nasty sticky hair, clammy skin, Yuki Eiri could not write. He could sit, lotus style, naked, on the balcony, but he couldn't cry. Shuichi would call soon. Eiri wasn't going to answer the phone, again.

He wanted to answer. He wanted to explain. He wanted not to feel like this. This could be the time, that he didn't catch himself, somehow. Tohma was in the US. Aiyaka and Hiro were married now. He was glad. They were happy.

Once, he would have dealt these feelings by finding a lovely fan girl, with red hair or blue eyes, and he would have used them, made her happy, made her flutter, but been gone the next day. Now he couldn't, wouldn't do that. Shuichi cried when he did that. So he sat on the balcony, wondering why he was breathing instead. The list of things that were his fault was too long, longer than he could count.

"I don't want to feel like this." His words whispered to the dawn only seemed to make the air colder against his skin. They did nothing to warm the overwhelming despair smothering him. Lonely. Shuichi would not be home for a month. European tour. Eiri had been angry, told the singer to go, have fun. He still wasn't sure why he'd been angry. Maybe because as Shuichi grew more successful, more confident, the singer had leaned against the door, smiling, talking about Europe, about how they'd have such a good time in Paris. Pretentious. Eiri said he wasn't going. He wasn't… wasn't something.

Shuichi had been gone five days now. Eiri couldn't sleep, couldn't write, couldn't call and apologize and he wasn't going to answer the phone. He'd be mean if it did, say something rude to keep from begging. The phone rang. Eiri closed his eyes. It continued to ring.

He was hurting Shuichi again. It always got to this. God, he didn't want to hurt him again, his beautiful, hyper lover. Sometimes when Shuichi reached release, he'd moan in perfect pitch. Eiri ran his hand through dirty blond hair and listened to the phone ring. He wanted to pick up the phone. Cold fingers closed around it. That movement alone lifted the pain a little. His thumb hovered over the on button. Then the phone stopped ringing.

Shuichi would get tired of him, tired of waiting and hoping for a response that wasn't coming. There was medication for these feelings, Eiri though.

"I need something good to happen," he told the sky. The clouds parted for the sun like the red sea. One swirling smear of white numbness parted cleanly from another smear of cloud. It wasn't going to rain today though, he thought, the clouds were too thin. The sky was riven, rent, torn asunder, and Eiri found it oddly comfortable. Death, pain, guilt, it was all supposed to just suddenly heal, and some days it felt like that. How to live without being depressed, he ought to make it a topic of a novel. He didn't have anything to offer anyone, not when he was like this. He'd just sit here until he felt better. He'd feel better. Sometime.

The phone rang again and this time he answered. "What do you want?"

"Eiri! Don't be mean!" Shuichi chided.

"I'm sorry."

Pause. "Eiri? I'm coming home. I miss you. I'm just leaving the air port. I'll be at home in less than an hour, Eiri."

"Home?"

"Oh, Eiri. Happy to see me?"

"You're coming home?"

"Are you okay?" Shuichi asked, concern showing in his voice.

"I'm a waste of space."

"Oh, Eiri. I love you. I need you."

Eiri hung up on him. Shuichi didn't call back, he knew Eiri wouldn't answer the phone again, but he did look at his watch. Twenty minutes, maybe, if he hurried, if he got good traffic. Tokyo wasn't known for good traffic. He understood the depression that hounded Eiri, Shuichi understood only a little of it. His moods swung, high and low, but he never got as low for as long as Eiri. And he knew about Eiri's past now. If he could get his hands on the people who'd hurt Eiri, he'd kill them himself.

It was nearly forty minutes later when he got to the garage. Dressed blue jeans and a neon yellow tee-shirt, he put on his sunglasses and hurried discretely towards the elevator. It was just habit now, being discrete. He let himself in, crossed to the balcony to pick up the phone and close the door.

In white socks, he searched through the house, until he got to the bedroom. He didn't bound onto the bed this time, just stood there, watching Eiri sleep. Naked still, his lover was curled around Shuichi's pillow, chest rising and falling evenly. Instinctively, Shuichi knew the deep crisis was over, the misery had lessened for Eiri again. Very quietly, Shuichi got out a case and started packing Eiri's clothes, just enough, enough of Eiri's other belongings. When the bag was sitting by the bed room door, Shuichi lay down on the bed and tenderly touched Eiri's arm, singing very lightly.

"Shu?"

"Yes, Eiri, I missed you, I'm cold, let me in, Eiri, ne?"

The blond rolled and held open his arms. "Did you come home because someone told you I was being a nut case?"

"I came home because I missed you. What's going on?" Shuichi snuggled up to Eiri, head on his arm, one jeaned leg going over one bare leg. "I'm sorry I got mad and left without you. I need you to come to Paris with me, Eiri. I want you with me."

"I know that," Eiri said, kissing Shuichi's forehead, "I just can't make myself feel it. I'm disabled. I'm broken. I'm only going to hurt you more."

"Eiri, just hold me now. You're not hurting me and Eiri, just hold me."

"I'm holding you Shuichi." Eiri said, slightly irritated.

"I'd cry forever if you left me. Don't you even think about it!"

That broke through the haze, made him know that he'd feel better, that his worthlessness wasn't his real feeling, it was some nasty chemical malfunction in his head. Arms tightening around Shuichi, he kissed his forehead again. "You came back for me."

"I'll always come for you, Eiri. Always. I love you."