Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Roses ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Well, ok so this idea is a bit far-fetched but I love coming up with strange story plots ^_^; This is also my first Gravitation fanfic, so please forgive me if I'm not completely on target and if the characters are off or OOC or anything. I guess the fic is also kind of AU-ish. Kinda. And it's more based on the anime Gravi instead of the manga (meaning pretty much no Maiko and no K's family). I would follow manga version (it's really a lot better) but I haven't even read the whole first volume.

Rating: PG to PG - 13

Guide (I have the professions also so it's not too confusing):

Yuki Eiri - Edward Young - Accomplished Novelist

Shindo Shuichi - Stuart Shubrook - Aspiring Poet and Song Composer

Seguchi Tohma - Thomas Savage - Wealthy Publishing Company Owner

Sakano - Kenneth Saunders - Stuart's Agent

K - Claude K. Winchester - American Ex-Mafia gunman, works for Thomas as an Agent

Sakuma Ryuichi - Reece Swift - Accomplished Poet and Song Composer

Nakano Hiroshi - Hugh Norris - Aspiring Violinist

Uesugi Tatsuha - Timothy Ulysses - Schoolboy

Suguru Fujisaki - Frederick Sullivan - Schoolboy and Aspiring Conductor/Composer

Ukai Noriko - Natalie Udell - Accomplished Pianist

Usami Ayaka - Anna Udolf - Schoolgirl

Seguchi Mika - Marianne Savage - Thomas's wife

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does. I own the shopkeeper and the idea for the story, but that's about it.

Yuki comes across an old journal that supposedly can make what you write in it come true. It's not true, of course, but how come when he starts writing in it the whole gang is suddenly living in the 1910s in England with no knowledge of their lives in Japan? AU-ish, YukiShu

Roses

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Yes, yes."

Yuki had been in his office for the past few hours. "Yes, I understand, yes." Scratch that, Yuki had been in his office talking on his phone for the past two hours. "No... not until next week." Scratch that again, Yuki had been in his office talking on his phone to his publisher for the past two hours and three minutes. "Yes, 400 pages. No, I decided against that. Yes."

For the past two hours, three minutes, and forty seconds, Shuichi had been sitting outside Yuki's office, his butt and legs numb, waiting for the writer to get off the phone. "Yes, alright. I'll bring it in tomorrow. Yes, alright, I will. You too, good - ... no," that was the fifth time he had started to end the conversation, "No, it'll be fine. What? Hold on, let me check," and the fifth time Shuichi had started to stand on his sleepy legs, "Yes, right here." And the fifth time he sank back down on his sore bottom, "Alright. You do? Alright. Yes, I've reread it. Ok. Goodbye."

And that was the first time Shuichi heard the sweetest sound in the world - the sound of a phone clicking off. The pink haired boy jumped up and turned, pounding his fists on the door, "Yuki! Yuuuki, come out you've been in there forever, Yuki! What took you so long, Yuuuukiii!" He stopped only when Yuki finally opened his door and grabbed hold of the boy's wrists, squeezed them, then pushed past him, "I'm going to bed."

Shuichi was about to argue, or follow, or join him, but the tired man glanced over his shoulder at him and grumbled, "I'm tired." And with that, he disappeared into his bedroom, the door shutting behind him. Normally Shuichi would ignore that, but whenever Yuki got off the phone with his publisher it meant one thing to Shuichi. He was sleeping on the couch.

The boy sighed and rubbed his bottom, the blood slowly rushing back there and to his legs. Shuichi grumbled quietly and walked to the living room, already having showered right before the publisher called, and flopped onto the couch. Still grumbling, he pulled the sheets up over him and curled up against the back of the couch. He really hated Yuki's publisher. However, Yuki calling his publisher and telling him that his next book was finished could be a good thing, since it usually meant that Yuki would be free for the next week or so. And a free Yuki meant a no-stress Yuki. And a no-stress Yuki meant a no-couch Shuichi. And that was always a good thing.

So, Shuichi closed his eyes and wiggled his way deeper into the covers and bid silent good-byes to his couch, for the next week at least.

~-~

Yuki leaned against the humming fridge with a can of beer in his hand. He hadn't slept well the previous night - two, maybe three hours a best - and now he was standing in his kitchen at 8am drinking alcohol. Shuichi constantly insisted that he drink coffee instead, that it was much better for him to have instead of alcohol. Yuki rose the aluminum to his lips and took another sip, hiccuping the bubbles back down. The boy was right, really. For all his annoying tendencies and idiocy, he was right. Coffee, while still not very good for you, was much healthier than beer. Yuki finished the rest of the bitter drink and tossed the can into his recycling bin. What did health matter?

"Yuki!" There was the boy's cue now. He bounded into the kitchen and latched on to the annoyed blonde's arm, "Yuki you were drinking again! Your breath smells really bad, you shouldn't drink that in the morning." Yuki grunted and shoved the boy off him. Shuichi propped himself up against a kitchen counter and pouted, watching Yuki wander over to the kitchen table and sit down in front of a newspaper.

"How long have you been up?"

Yuki glanced over the top of the newspaper to glare at Shuichi, "Several hours."

"Yuki couldn't sleep?" Shuichi grabbed the chair across from him, placed it next to Yuki, and sat down, "You need a break!"

"I have a break. It doesn't mean that I'll get any rest, though," Yuki turned the page, "since your incessant whining will probably keep this headache in place all week."

"Yuki's so mean!" Shuichi grabbed the discarded sports section of the newspaper and smacked Yuki's arm with it, then stood and ran out of the room. The novelist grinned and leaned back in his chair, thankful for once that the boy was so easy to annoy.

"Where are you going?"

It was one hour later and Yuki hadn't had any quiet after all. Just a couple minutes after he'd insulted Shuichi the first time, the pink haired boy ran back into the kitchen and ate cereal. Very, very crunchy cereal. Very, very slurpy cereal. And right next to Yuki. After that it was just a matter of what else he could do - blast loud music, complain about K or Sakano or Suguru or Hiro or whomever he could think of. Finally, Yuki decided that if Shuichi wasn't going to go complain to them that he would go out. And not tell Shuichi where he was going.

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Please, please, please?" Shuichi's sad eyes and doggie ears and tail pleaded with Yuki.

"No."

"Yuki's mean! Why can't I come?" Shuichi grabbed hold of his sleeve.

"Because," Yuki walked over to his apartment's entrance and slipped off his house shoes, tugging Shuichi-inu along. "don't you have the studio to be at or..." Yuki jerked Shuichi's hand off and grabbed his keys, "Something?" The boy whined louder and grabbed hold of Yuki's sleeve again, "I can skip! Come on, Yuki! You don't go out during the day much, and I haven't spent much time with you lately. I could call in sick or something!"

"Do you think K would really care if you called in sick?" The blonde raised a thin eyebrow at him, then smirked as the boy's face fell, "I didn't think so. Besides, I don't think I can deal with your voice all day. I'll be here when you get back." Yuki pulled the crestfallen boy's hand off, slipped into his outside shoes, then left the apartment.

Yuki drove into one of the older parts of the city, not certain of where his destination was or what he'd do when he got there. He was just glad to have peace and quiet in his car and to not see flashes of pink in his vision. Or complaining. Or whining. Yuki eventually parked his car and climbed out, not really caring if he was ticketed, and walked down the sidewalk.

He wasn't sure how long it was since he'd been out of the house. His last book was very difficult for him, often times he'd only leave his room to use the bathroom, sleep, or get a beer. Most of the time he didn't even sleep. He didn't eat all that much, either, since Shuichi did the shopping and all he got was Pocky, Yan Yan, and any other kind of candy he could find. Yuki'd never had much of a sweet tooth.

The author pushed his sunglasses down from the top of his head to rest on his nose - although he doubted many people around this area would know him; there was still a chance. Yuki glanced to his right side, looking into the windows of some of the shops. Not much around here, really, but he was close to the shrines. Most people that came to this area of the city only came for the shrines so shops were fairly scarce. Plus, Yuki had been in every one of these shops already so there wasn't anything new. The storefronts looked like they hadn't changed in decades.

Yuki paused, his feet firmly planted in front of an old, old antique store that looked like it had been in business there for a century. Which it probably would have been, except for the fact that this building was condemned several years ago. Yuki shrugged and walked up to the door, pushing it in. Rusted bells rang above him, letting the shop owner know someone had entered. Yuki glanced down at the floor then slipped his outside shoes off and placed them in a cubby next to the door. He walked further in and glanced about the store. Well, it was an antique store. And there were many old, old antiques in it. Some Chinese, some Japanese, but mostly western, and there were several items from what looked like the Victorian era.

The blonde man stopped in front of an old rocking horse, covered with molding leather and rotting horsehair. He ran a finger along the antique, coughing as a piece of the leather came off on his fingers. "Ah!"

Yuki glanced up, startled at the sound of someone else's voice, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think that - "

"Don't touch the items in the store unless you want to buy them!" the voice, belonging to an old hunched over man, came closer to Yuki, "The items in here are very old and expensive."

Yuki bowed in apology to him and quickly wiped his hands on his pants, "I'm very sorry, I didn't know it was so deteriorated."

"You have eyes don't you?" The old man pushed his wire rim glasses up, "Eh, well, no harm really. Just decreased it in value by about five hundred thousand yen."

"N-not really!" Yuki stepped back and looked at the old rocking horse. Was it really that valuable?

"Nah, I'm just playing with you, boy. Old men have to have fun too. It's really a worthless piece of junk but it adds to the atmosphere so I keep it around." The man patted the rocking horse, not caring as more of the molding leather came off onto his hands, "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, I'm just looking."

"A window shopper, eh? We get lots of those. 'Course," the man walked over to the store's counter and stepped behind it, "We don't get many that walk out empty handed. Sure you could find something."

Yuki shook his head and stepped back, "No, that's fine, I think I'll be going now," the blonde reached over to take his shoes from the cubby.

"Eh, wait a minute. I bet I could find you somethin' you'd like. No one ever comes in here just 'looking,' everyone always wants something. You don't look like you're short on cash either." The man cackled and pushed his glasses up, "Ah, why don't you come over here? I can find you something you'd like."

Yuki sighed and let his hand drop, he didn't really want to offend the old man, and it couldn't do any harm to humor him, so he walked over to the counter, "If you like."

"Alright then! What do you do for a living?" he grabbed a high seated chair next to him and pushed himself up onto it. "Wait, let me guess... you do something... intelligent. You look like you're not stupid."

"If you think it's intelligent, then sure."

"A smartass, eh? You write don't you?"

Yuki blinked a few times then nodded. Well, the old man wasn't completely inept. And if he were lucky, Yuki would get out of here with just some old book. The man chuckled and hopped off his seat, "Well, you do it for a living don't you? Get paid for it? Published, maybe?" he chuckled more as Yuki nodded to each question, "Thought so! I'm pretty good at guessing those things. You look kind of uptight, too." He chortled as Yuki stiffened, "Yeah, thought so. People like you usually are." The man rummaged through a chest in the front window, "I've got just the thing for you. I keep it locked in here, it's kind of valuable. Don't want people to go missing left or right, do we now?"

He hobbled back over behind the counter and placed a dusty, leather book down. Taking in a wheezing breath, he blew on the cover and smiled as an imprint of roses appeared under the dust, "Yep, had this for awhile now. It's really valuable. Good thing it looks pretty unassuming."

Yuki shrugged and looked at the leather bound book, "What's the story?"

"Story? Eh, no, it's a journal." The old man rose the book in his hands, "It's got a pen that goes with it, too. Somewhere around here..."

"I don't really need some ones used journal." Yuki sighed and stepped away from the counter - he'd humored the old man enough, and the dusty building was starting to affect his senses, "Thank you, but I think that I'll - "

"Wait just a minute! It's not used. And you'd want it, too," the man was looking around in the chest, "I know I have it around here somewhere - ah!" he smiled and produced a molded looking rose stem, "Perfect! Here's the pen for it - you dip it in ink and - "

"I don't think so, thank you for your time, though."

"Wait, now! Ok, you don't really need this, it just adds to the ambiance, really. Not that important. It's the journal you need," the old man tossed the decayed rose stem back into the chest and pushed the lid down. "Now you stay there and hear about this journal. I've got a story for everything in this shop and this one has the most interesting. It's true, too! A lot of the stories for stuff in here aren't true, though. But this one is." The old man nodded and hobbled back to his chair, smirking at the groaning Yuki.

"Now, then. This journal was made several years ago. Turn of last century, actually, early 1900s. Somewhere in England, I think. Maybe France, or Great Britain. I don't know, but somewhere around there." Yuki groaned and placed an elbow on the counter, propping his head up, "Now, before you get all huffy, listen to the rest of the story. One day, a young woman decided that she wanted to escape her life. She hated it, really. Oh, and she was a witch. A young witch wanted to escape her life. She also thought that it'd be great to escape into a fantasy world, you know, like you writers do. Escape into your story or something. I heard somewhere that's what you people like to do."

Yuki sighed as his posture sunk, "Well, one day, she decided that she'd write a story and escape into it. So, she poured all her heart and soul and torment into creating this journal. Then, she fashioned a pen out of a rose stem and wrote what she wanted her life to be like, with all her passion." Yuki's eyes drooped, "Her apprentice watched her do all this, left to get the witch some tea, came back, and saw that she was gone. The apprentice noticed one thing, though." Yuki's head drooped, "That the text in the journal was glowing! So she read the thing, noticing how every time she turned a page, more text formed. She read it until the last page, where the witch died after living a long life. Then," Yuki's arm slipped a bit and he stood up straight quickly, reminding himself not to fall asleep, "the writing all disappeared and the journal was blank. The end."

Yuki cleared his throat and nodded, "That was... interesting. I think I'll be leaving now."

"Come, now, you're not leaving without buying this, are you? And after I went through all that trouble. Most writers would jump at an opportunity to own this!"

Yuki sighed. He wasn't going to get this man off his back unless he bought it, "How much?"

"Oh, only around... two thousand yen."

"Goodbye."

"Wait, wait!" the old man rose a hand and the journal, "One thousand!"

Yuki grabbed his outside shoes from the cubby, "Thank you for the... story."

"Five hundred?"

He stepped over to the door and slid his shoes on.

"Oh, two hundred and fifty and that's my last offer!"

Yuki sighed and looked over at the flabbergasted man. He really didn't want to offend him, so... he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and held out two hundred and fifty yen. The man smiled and grabbed the money, then handed the journal to Yuki, "Thank you! You won't be disappointed with this, oh no. Just make sure that you figure out how to get out of the book before you die or you'll die in there." Yuki nodded to the man and slipped out of the shop. He shook his head while he walked back to his car; "Sometimes I wonder why more people aren't in lunatic asylums..."

Yuki lounged on his couch, staring at the blank television screen and smoking a cigarette. In about... one minute, he mused; Shuichi would be bursting through the door going on about something that happened to him that day. Yuki pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and ground it into his ashtray, breathing out smoke. He glanced at the leather book next to him, two hundred and fifty yen really was too much for that piece of junk but he had felt some need to humor the man. What was that story he'd gone on about...? Something about a witch and a rose stem? Yuki shrugged and picked up the journal. Whatever it was, it really was a wonder that the book hadn't deteriorated like that rocking horse. The journal looked rather new. That old man had probably lied about it being so old.

The door clicked. Feet slid into fuzzy slippers, padded down the hall, then a blur of pink landed next to Yuki and arms squeezed his shoulders. The man sighed put the journal down in his lap, "What?"

"Yuki I'm home! K got really mad at me cause I was late and all but I told him that I wanted to spend time with Yuki so he said that I needed to spend more time getting over there and then Hiro said that K had a new gun and," Yuki stood up at some point in the babble, pushed Shuichi off, and walked into the kitchen. He sighed and opened the fridge, pulled out a beer, drank the entire can in one gulp, threw it out, then grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Shuichi was oblivious to absolutely everything Yuki did and just continued to follow him around like a puppy dog.

"So then I said that I didn't want any grapes and Sakano fainted and - " Yuki walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, then picked up the journal. "Oh! What's that?" Shuichi looked at the rose imprint in the leather, "Pretty! Did you get that today?"

Yuki nodded and lit a cigarette. "What is it? Is it a book?" Yuki took a rather long drag and glared at Shuichi, then breathed the smoke out, "What kind of book?" Yuki took another breath and let it out. "Is it blank?" Breathe, "Where'd you get it?" Out, "Can I see it?" Breathe, "Yuki!" Out.

"What?"

"Where did you get it?"

"Some antique place near the shrines."

"Ohh. There's an antique place near the shrines?"

"Apparently."

"What is it? A journal? It looks like a journal. Why did you get it, do you need one of those or did you just think it was pretty?"

"Yes, it's a journal." He ground the cigarette into the ashtray, "And the shopkeeper forced me into buying it. I felt sorry for him, that place will probably close soon."

"I wanna see it before it does!"

Yuki stood up and started towards his office, "I'll be in my office."

"Yuki! You're on break, you don't need to be writing."

"No, I don't have a deadline." He stopped at his door and glanced over at Shuichi, then walked into the office. Shuichi took this as a 'I don't care if you come in' look and followed the writer right into the room. Yuki sat down at his desk and glanced at the journal still in his hand, "Hmm..."

"You should write something in it!"

"Why?" Yuki looked at the computer before him; "I have this."

"So? It looks kind of old. Maybe you should write a story in it! Like, to fit the time or something! I wanna see it; can I see it when you're done? You never let me read your stories."

"You can read...?"

Shuichi blinked momentarily then shook his head quickly, "Yuki's mean!"

Yuki sighed and pulled a pen from a drawer in his desk; "If I write that story will you promise to shut up the rest of the week?"

Shuichi nodded severely and scooted closer to Yuki, "Fine." The writer opened the book, listening to the crackling sound the old paper made, and turned to the first page. He didn't seem to acknowledge the faint smell of roses, or the faint red stains on the page, or the fact that the room got colder. He just placed the pen onto the paper and began to write, ignoring the suggestions from Shuichi that he write a romance novel about the two of them. Maybe he would do that, if Shuichi would shut up...

Yuki's eyes drooped suddenly and he didn't hear Shuichi's voice so loudly anymore. Nor did he notice the glowing computer screen in front of him, or the chair he was sitting on, or the pen in his hand. All he knew was the book lying in his lap. Shuichi had insisted that he write a story set in England in the early 1900s, since the book looked so much like that's where it was from. And he had insisted that everyone they knew be in it. Yuki didn't tell Shuichi that he already saw everything that was going to happen in the story, or that he knew everything that he would do.

Plus, at the moment, Yuki wasn't sure if he'd even finished the story yet. He was just sitting there, half conscious, with no sound or light around him except for the book. And then... faintly...

"Edward?"

Yuki's eyes adjusted slightly, "Are you listening to me?"

And slowly he could see the dim glow of fire and the faint warmth of being by a burning hearth. Yuki also smelled... potpourri, for some odd reason. He also found that he had no idea what he had been doing that day, or the previous weeks, and had the smallest idea that he was a writer named Edward Young in the 1910s in England and was currently sitting in his living room. And that he was listening to his publisher babble on about something. "Hmm...?"

"Edward, I said your maid has brought us tea." A young, elegant looking blonde man was sitting across from Edward, smirking, "Would you like some?"

"Ah, yes, thank you, Thomas." Suddenly, this all seemed very... right. And that he didn't know what was going on in the 21st century in Japan, nor did he really care. Neither did that seem odd or bother him. All he cared about right now was how nice his tea tasted and how comforting the fire felt.

TBC

-~-

^_^; Well, uhm, that's the first chapter. It's really kind of slow, but it'll speed up in the next chapter. Did you like it? Oh I hope so! Should I keep going with this or is it so far fetched and weird that I should just drop it and stick to regular Gravi plots (or no Gravi at all @_@)?