Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Untitled Eiri Vignette ❯ One-Shot

Untitled

Written by Idimmu

Gravitation

Canon Pairings

Angst-y Vignette type, one-shot

PG

Notes: I took some liberties with the events, but in general this is set during Track 13 (I think…) of the series. Be warned of its abstractness, I just randomly wrote it last night. Focuses on Eiri, about a PG rating. And no, I don't own Gravitation, Maki Murakami does.

All around there was silence. Every tree stood perfectly still, no stray breeze fluttered past to upset the bare branches. A stark yet beautiful whiteness blanketed its essence over every surface and within every crevice throughout the undisturbed area.

A car drove up; breaking the vow of silence nature had cast upon the beggar-filled block. A taxi door opened to let out its quarry, letting in a sudden rush of cold air to burden upon the driver. Money passed hands, memories flitted. A golden gaze fell upon a ruined building, brushed off a passing beggar as he walked. The taxi drove away, along with the ten-dollar bill he had given him. Rats scattered as footsteps echoed in empty halls. A room left undisturbed for the past six years loomed before him.

The beer bottle he recognized, the now out of date label still burned as if fresh in his thoughts. A broken roof let snow pass its futile resistance. White flakes fell scatteredly to the floor, so quietly you would think they were silent. The man wished it could have been like this on that night, so as he could focus on hearing the snow land amongst its peers, rather than the noises crisp ten-dollar bills make, and the innocence they took.

Snow flitted away as he walked through, almost as if were letting him past, bowing before himself like so many others did. He ignored it, focusing only on the small window ledge before him, looking out briefly at a stark white alleyway, littered with New York's lost; rejected; addicted; abusive; wayward entrepreneurs. What some would call scum. He turned quickly, back to facing the interior of the room, eyes cast downwards as he thought of the scum who resided in an angel's body...who now was an angel up above.

In the path he had cleared for himself, an object still partially obscured by flakes caught his eye. Tapered fingers reached down to pick it up, returned to the eyes of their owner with a faded bill. Moisture weathered it, but lines could be made out over it. A ten dollar bill, the same one that had passed across his vision six years ago - the rip in the corner and moustache drawn on the face told him so. A sad smile marked his face as the note was put away in his pocket, leaving the small room for the last time, memories becoming bearable and emotions reigning once more.

A different taxi was hailed; a five-dollar bill passed his hands this time, with a word of thanks given to the driver. The hotel mattress reshaped itself to his body, and the blond man slept in peace, the nightmares taunting him no more. Suitcases were packed and planes were boarded upon his awakening, and a cheerful smile greeted him when he got home.

Glass now incased the ten-dollar bill, silver frame sitting next to a small photo.

Reviews would be much appreciated!