Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Roses ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Oh, I forgot last time, but thanks Shuchan and Kyuu for helping me get started on the story ^_^

They did have electricity and plumbing back then, in the cities. And the cast lives in a city. I don't know where. And the year is probably around 1910-1913, somewhere in there (I'd forgotten about the whole war thing, but it didn't start until 1914 so I'm safe.) Please forgive me for any inaccuracies. I haven't had a lot world history yet, only American Civics and a little bit if American History, and some Ancient world history.

Cast:

Yuki Eiri - Edward Young - 22 - Accomplished Novelist

Shuichi Shindo - Stuart Shubrook - 19 - Aspiring Poet and Song Composer

Seguchi Tohma - Thomas Savage - 32 - Wealthy Publishing Company Owner

Sakano - Kenneth Saunders - 29 - Stuart's Agent

K - Claude K. Winchester - 36 - American Ex-Mafia gunman, works for Thomas as an Agent

Sakuma Ryuichi - Reece Swift - 31 - Accomplished Poet and Song Composer

Nakano Hiroshi - Hugh Norris - 19 - Aspiring Violinist

Uesugi Tatsuha - Timothy Ulysses - 16 - Schoolboy

Suguru Fujisaki - Frederick Sullivan - 16 - Schoolboy and Aspiring Conducter/Composer

Noriko Ukai - Natalie Udell - 28 - Accomplished Pianist

Ayaka Usami - Anna Udolf - 17 - Schoolgirl

Rating: PG - PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravi. Maki Murakami does. I do own Mr. Avery and the plot, though.

Roses

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Chapter 1

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Thomas smiled at the maid and took the tea from her hands, chuckling as she blushed and hurried out of the room. He took a small sip of the warm liquid and leaned back in his chair, "I understand that you're not enthused about all of this, Edward, but I believe it's in your best interests."

Edward shrugged and watched the steam rise from the porcelain. For the past few days Thomas had been trying to get him to take on a student to tutor. He said it would be good publicity or that he'd look less cold. Edward had no idea why he would care, it's not like people paid any attention to how he acted, all they cared about was how enticing his books were, "It doesn't make any sense. And I don't really want to teach some brat how to write. You don't teach people how to write, Thomas, you either can or you can't. Apparently you can't get that in your head."

His publisher shook his head and set the teacup on its plate, "Honestly, you'd think that some things I say would have an impact on you. When has my advice gone wrong?"

"When has it not?"

Thomas placed the cup and plate on the table next to him and crossed his legs. Edward always was an impossible case, he'd known that when he signed him and he knew that whenever there was a deadline missed. Which was more and more frequent this past year. Thomas knew that if he got something to keep his mind off his problems that he'd work better. Or at least he'd be more social.

"Well, I really don't care if you don't want to do this. You're going to, I've already made the arrangements." The older man stood and walked over to the hearth, placing a forearm on the bricks above [AN: I have no clue what you call those], and watched his reflection in the ornate mirror, "I think it's a poet, or someone who wants to be a poet. I really don't remember," Thomas turned and looked at Edward, "But please, try to be civil to him at least. I know you hate the idea of teaching someone, or even being in the same room with someone else, but I really think it'll be good for you."

Edward shrugged and leaned forward, milling over the tea distractedly, "Since I must."

"Good." Thomas reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a pocket watch, flicking the case open, "Well, I think I should be going now. I'm glad you finally see my way."

"Only because you won't shut up about it." The writer stood and walked over to his friend, "I can't talk you out of it, can I?"

"No." Thomas smiled and pocketed his watch, then placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, "Oh cheer up, it won't be so bad."

"If it's anything like your other ideas I'm sure it will be."

The lighter blonde chuckled and took a step back, "See me out, then?" The two walked out of the study and to the front room, "Please don't scare the boy off." He pulled his jacket from the brass coat rack and opened the door leading outside; "It really won't be so bad."

"I'm teaching a boy? You want to make this as bad as you can for me, don't you?" Thomas laughed and nodded to Edward, then ducked outside into the dark night. Edward sighed, shutting the door silently, and turned to greet his maid, who was standing by the stairs to the second story, "I think I'll retire." The maid nodded to him and stepped aside, hurrying to the study to put out the fire.

He sighed and rose a hand to smooth his hair back. So, the next month or so of his free time was to be devoted to teaching some brat how to write. And write poetry, no less. That was one of the hardest things to write, much less teach. Edward walked over to the stairs and sat on the first few steps. It figured that Thomas wanted him to use his month vacation for this, he always demanded him to do moronic things when Edward was supposed to be resting. He sighed and lounged on the steps, watching as rain began to fall outside. At least Thomas would be walking home in the rain.

Edward undid his tie and loosened the buttons on his shirt, then pulled his vest off. The rain intensified and the man stood up, leaving the discarded clothes on his steps for the maid to clean up in the morning. He retreated upstairs into the shadows, listening to a clap of thunder. Then he flicked a light switch off and slunk into his room. Lightning flashed, illuminating the rooms with windows.

The chances of Thomas getting a carriage ride home at his hour were slim, and he had several blocks to walk to his house. Edward closed the door to his room, turned the light off, peeled the remaining pants and shirt off, climbed into his bed, and smiled.

Something wasn't right. Normally when Shuichi went on and on about things to Yuki he'd get some sort of reaction. Like 'Shut up, brat' or 'What are you doing here?' or 'Get out' or at least a little twitching. But for some reason all Yuki did was sit there. His eyes didn't twitch, his face didn't show signs of annoyance, and his hand didn't move across the page. He didn't even seem to be blinking. Shuichi rose a hand and waved it in front of Yuki's face, "Yuki?" No response to that either. It was now turn for Shuichi to decide that something was very, very wrong.

The frantic boy jumped up and started shaking Yuki's shoulders roughly, "Wake up!" he held his hand in front of Yuki's face, checking to see if the author was even breathing. Which he wasn't. Which wasn't good. Which had to mean one thing - Shuichi had killed Yuki. Shuichi screamed and fell back, "Yuki's gonna kill me!" he ran out of the room, continuing to scream, "I gotta call K! Wait, no, he'd kill me. Sakano! Wait, no, then he'd kill himself. Hiro! Yes!" Shuichi ran to the phone and picked it up, frantically dialing Hiro's number.

Unfortunately, Hiro wasn't home. This only caused more alarm for the pink haired singer. So, instead, he dialed Suguru's number. He wasn't home either. Then Ryuichi, who wasn't home, then Tohma, who wasn't home, then... well, pretty soon he'd called everyone he knew and come to one conclusion - somehow, someway, he'd killed everyone. Thus, the boy took this opportunity to do one thing, something he'd never done before. Shuichi's eyes glazed over and he fell back, fainted.

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He turned in his bed, mumbling quietly in his half-sleep. Cheery birds chirped outside his slightly open window. A faint breeze wafted in with the sunlight. The sound of horses clapping against a cobblestone road was oddly soothing to his ears. Wait... Shuichi opened his eyes - since when did Tokyo have cobblestone roads? Or horses on them? He shoved the blankets off his body and ran to his window.

Yes, there was a cobblestone road, and horses, and women in long, heavy dresses walking with men in three-piece suits. It seemed rather normal, and yet... just a few seconds before, the boy had thought there was something extremely odd about it all. He turned, looking at his bed. That didn't look like his couch... wait, since when did he sleep on a couch? The boy shook his head quickly and walked over to his dresser, then looked down at the basin of water. His mother must have come in earlier and filled it. Then, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror and smiled.

Well, he smiled for a split second, before he realized that his hair didn't look quite right. And before he realized that his hair was red, and didn't it used to be pink? So, the boy, quite naturally, screamed.

Which caused his mother to run up the stairs and into his room, "Stuart! What happened?"

Stuart turned quickly to meet the face of his mother, "My hair-!"

Stuart's mother blinked, "What about it?"

The boy shook his head quickly and looked at his reflection again. What had been so odd about his red hair...? He'd been born with it, why did it effect him so much that moment? Stuart waved his mother away and dipped his hands into the basin. It was going to be a very odd day.

"Hugh!" Stuart's arms waved frantically at his best friend. Hugh glanced up from a newspaper he was reading and smiled, "Oh, Stuart!"

Stuart ran over to him, sitting on the park bench. He glanced over his friend's shoulder and then at his friend, "Anything today?" Hugh shook his head slowly and placed the paper down.

"I'm going to the music academy today. I heard from Professor Hallbrook that there's a spot open in a symphony for a third string violinist."

"That's great, Hugh! Do you think you'll get it?"

"I hope so. It's not a very big symphony, they play in small venues, but I still think it would do well for my career."

Stuart nodded at his friend and leaned back in his chair, "I heard from Mr. Saunders today."

The brunette blinked and looked over at him, "What did he say?"

"I'm going to be tutored."

Hugh sighed and placed a hand gently on Stuart's shoulder, "I'm sorry. I know you didn't want that to happen. You're not a... bad poet, really."

"I know! That's what I told Mr. Saunders, but he said that it would be best if I had a little more training... before I tried to be published."

"Well, at least he's helping you. Who's tutoring you?"

"Someone named... Edward Young."

Hugh blanched and turned sideways on the bench to face Stuart, "'Someone named Edward Young'? You mean you don't know who he is?"

"Should I?"

He sighed and shoved Stuart lightly. "He's a very well known, well respected, very popular romance author. I didn't know he tutored."

Stuart shrugged, not really caring that his tutor was some hot-shot, "Well, apparently he doesn't but Mr. Saunders found out that he just started. I think he's only taking one student."

"So, you're going to be the only, possibly first and last student, of the Edward Young, and you really could care less if he was a, say, butcher?"

The redhead nodded and leaned back in the bench, looking up at the sky. "Pretty much."

Hugh sighed again and shifted his seating to face the sidewalk in front of the bench. He didn't really understand Stuart - the boy said he wanted to be a famous poet but he wouldn't even keep track of who the main authors were. Not that Stuart ever did, or that he was a big fan of romance. Hugh wouldn't even know who Young was except for the fact that his mother was obsessed with his works.

Stuart stood up suddenly and glanced over his shoulder at Hugh, "I have to go to the market and buy some sugar. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, unless you want to visit me tonight and tell me what happened."

Hugh shook his head, "I think I want to stay in tonight."

"All right." Stuart nodded to Hugh and walked off down the sidewalk.

~-~

"Sugar cane, sugar cane..." Stuart sighed and walked along the market street. His mother had plenty of sugar, really, she just wanted to make him do something. The boy ducked into their frequented store and greeted the owner, "Hello, Mr. Avery." The portly shop owner smiled to Stuart and nodded to him, walking out from behind his counter, "Stuart, boy, what brings you here?"

"I have to buy some sugar cane."

"Oh! Did your mother not feel up to coming out today?" Stuart shook his head, "Well, glad you came by. Don't see you around here much anymore. Heard from your mother you stay inside mostly."

Stuart shrugged and walked around the tiny shop, looking at some of the items Mr. Avery had for sale, "Well, I write mostly..."

"I see. Well, whatever makes you happy I suppose. So you need some sugar cane? How much is it?"

Stuart shrugged and pulled some money from his coat pocket, "I think it was two pounds."

"I see! Well, then," the owner walked over to a wooden bin full of sugar and took a small linen bag from a stack next to it, "I suppose that's all you'll be needing?" the owner looked up at Stuart expectantly, filling the bag.

"Yes, I think so... oh, but," he nodded to a can of licorice, "I'd like a couple of those, too."

Avery laughed and placed the two-pound bag of sugar on the counter, then grabbed a few pieces of licorice from the aforementioned can. "You still have that sweet tooth, don't you?" he chuckled as he handed Stuart the items and took the money. "Well, you should come by more often. If you do I promise I'll get you some more candy."

Stuart smiled and hefted the items in his arms, "Thanks, maybe I will. Bye Mr. Avery." He turned and moved to leave, not noticing the tall man entering the store, or hearing the faint tinkling of bells. And since he didn't notice this, he didn't move out of the way to avoid the man. Nor did the other man notice Stuart, although how he could miss bright red hair is quite unusual, and so they both were quite surprised when they collided. And when sugar spilled all over both of the men - into their clothes, hair, face, and eyes. Stuart coughed heavily and wiped the sugar off his clothes, then shook it out of his hair. "Watch where you're going!"

Mr. Avery looked on at the two, not interfering lest he get injured in the process. The taller, blonde man looked at Stuart, glaring. "You should have been looking. You were the one with..." he brushed a few grains from his face, "sugar."

Stuart seethed and pushed himself up, glaring as the other man did likewise, "It's your fault that I collided with you! If you had been looking where you were going, then - "

"If you had been looking where you were going then you would have avoided this and future collisions." The blonde man replied coolly, shaking his hair out, "I'm not the one who has to buy more sugar."

The younger man glared up at him, angry at the nerve of this rude, yet strikingly handsome, man. "Well you should have known that there was going to be someone leaving!"

"Why should I have?"

Stuart clenched his jaw, deciding against letting his mouth open and spill with insults. Of course, the fact that the man standing in front of him was probably the most attractive person to ever walk on the face of the planet wasn't helping him either. The tall man brushed past him and over to Mr. Avery, placing his order. Stuart's eyes just followed him as he felt a hot blush cross his cheeks. The red head turned abruptly and stormed out of the store, knowing that he didn't have enough money left to buy more sugar. He hoped his mother would understand his dilemma.

"Stuart! What happened to you?" Stuart's mother emerged from the kitchen, looking at her sugar-drenched son; "You look like you just took a bath in sugar! And - Stuart, where's the sugar cane?"

Stuart pointed to his clothes and hair, causing his mother to gasp, "Someone ran into me at Mr. Avery's Dry Goods Store and I just happened to be carrying the sugar. I'm sorry,"

His mother sighed and ran a flour-covered hand through her hair; "Well I suppose that my cake will just have to wait until tomorrow, then. It looks like it's going to start raining soon."

Stuart nodded and walked past her and up the stairs, "Make sure you rinse the sugar out of your hair! If you need soap there's some in the bathroom!"

The red and now white haired boy nodded to her, continuing up the stairs, "Stupid... why couldn't he of been looking where he was going?" He paused just outside the bathroom, "Of course, he was very attractive... I suppose you can't expect handsome people to be considerate." Stuart sighed and stripped out of his clothing, throwing them on the floor. Sighing, he ran the water in the bathtub, waiting until it filled halfway, then sunk down in. He shivered at the intense cold of the water and quickly rinsed as much sugar as he could out. "As long as I never see him again I'll be fine... ok, well," he lathered some soap into his hair, "If I never bump into him again I'll be fine. I wouldn't mind... seeing him."

Edward grumbled, bursting into his front parlor. Water dripped off his clothing and hair. Just as soon as he had gotten out of Mr. Avery's store, rain poured down. And it seemed like, Edward turned and looked outside, that it stopped as soon as he got in. So not only was he covered in sugar, but he was also wet and covered in sugar. Which meant that he was also very sticky. Edward pulled his tie off, then jacket, then vest, and dumped them on the ground. He called for his maid, continuing to strip in the parlor, "Clean those. Heat some water for me for a bath." He walked up the stairs in his underwear; not caring as his maid looked after him, blushing madly.

"Little brat. What in Gods name was he doing with so much sugar any ways?" the blonde grumbled as he waited for the water to heat, "I hope I never have to see him again."

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Eee, thank you for reading ^_^; Pleeeaaase be a kind reviewer and review! I'm still a little skeptical about this plot (er, if there is one...), but I do so love the idea. And the more reviews I get the faster I update >.o~ (no, really, it's true! I might actually finish this, too! Shock)