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Rememberance of a Dead Man	By : VisageWriters Category: Gravitation > General Views: 1083 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Chapter One: Enshrining the Expired

She stared at herself in the mirror in the small hotel bathroom,
holding up her long brown hair before taking a pair of silver
scissors and snipping away, eyes glancing towards a picture
tapped to the side of the mirror to double check.

Hair done she brushed the locks across the floor, shaking her
head slightly to free up any loose strands before carefully
washing her face free of make up, gasping slightly as she raised
her head for air, water dripping slowly down her face.

She blew a kiss to her reflection before padding back into the
bedroom, opening the door to the large closet. She knelt in front
of a battered black trunk, running a hand over the fading golden
letters before unlocking it and opening it, sneezing slightly as
dust and cedar assaulted her senses, the smells of the past
leaking out, floating around her.

Tears formed in her eyes as she ran a hand over the folded
clothes and carefully packed knickknacks, falling down her chin
to it a wrapped bundle of letters and yellowed papers.

"I miss you..."

She swallowed and reached for the stack of clothing, pulling out
a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt and a black worn leather jacket.
She smiled softly and held the jacket to her nose, breathing
deeply the scent of her brother, almost feeling his arms around
her.

She closed the trunk after grabbing a small brown bottle, re-engaging
the lock before heading for her dressing curtain, grabbing an ace
bandage on the way.

An hour later, the woman known as Yoshki Kitazawa was gone, and
in her place stood Yuki Kitazawa, a dead man.

She grabbed a baseball cap, tossing it on her head with a pair of
sunglasses, heading for her favorite writer's house.

She leaned against the doorjamb as she knocked, a familiar pose
to both people involved in this drama.

Shuichi started singing to himself, going to awnser the door.
"Oh! Maybe Yuki got home early for me!" He swung the
door open and looked at Kitazawa, slightly dumfounded. "Uh…"

She looked at him from the tips of his pink hair, to his feet and
back up again, a smirk curling over her lips as she licked them.
Using her natural voice she leaned close to Shuichi’s ear,
her tongue flicking out over it. "Eiri-kun home?"

Whoever it was, Eiri hoped he would go away. The last thing he
needed was another distraction. The words were already coming few
and far between. His sentences were fractured and awkward.
Writing was becoming an arduous task, and he was quickly
questioning his choice of career.

It called for one thing. Coffee and nicotine. The knocking had
stopped, so he figured the person had either gone away or Shuichi
had opened the door and sent them away. Slipping his eyeglasses
from his face, he stood and pushed back the rolling chair.
Sticking a fresh cigarette butt in his mouth, he grabbed the
coffee cup he intended to fill to the brim with black coffee.

Eiri-kun home?

He froze in place, standing in the hallway. In a hard, fast rush
out of him came the breath he had been holding for the past few
excruciating seconds.

It couldn’t be.

He was hearing things.

Better judgement told him to get his coffee- or better yet,
forget it completely- and run back into his study with the door
locked behind him.

If this was a fucking game, he was going to kill whoever
orchestrated it. There was nothing funny about this, that much
was apparent by the shaking coffee cup clutched painfully in his
thin hand.

Turn around and lock the door.

But he didn’t. His feet carried him forward on their own
accord until he could peer around the corner, hoping to look, but not
be seen.

He looked. The world turned over and gravity went with it. He
didn’t even know he dropped the cup until he heard it break.

She looked up when the cup shattered and pushed Shuichi out of
the way, rather roughly, eyes on Eiri as she moved closer to him,
backing him against the wall, chests, stomachs and thighs pressed
together as she stared into those wide and frightened eyes.
"Six years and you're still the best looking boy I've ever
seen..."

He pressed into the wall as if he were hoping that with any
second, either he or it would turn to smoke and fade away. If the
cigarette dangling from his lips was lit, it would have been used
in self-defense.

Rather, he might have considered it if he could do anything but
stare with wide eyes, pressed back against a wall.

His reply came out in the form of a loud, heavy sigh, an
intangible word mixed in with the inner release.

The rational part of his brain told him that this was, of course,
absolutely impossible. He was a grown man, Yuki was dead, and the
dead don’t come back to press you against the wall and tell
you how cute you are. But the look in the eyes… the smell.
He used to go home wrapped in that smell at night from hours of
letting the young man lean over him and his books.

That was real, and that fought against the barrier of reason.

The cigarette fell from his mouth, cradled between their chests
since it could slide down no further to the ground. He knew his
lip was shaking, trying to speak, and he knew he must look like a
complete idiot. He hated himself for looking that way, especially
now, with those eyes on him.

A grunt sounded, and he cleared his throat to speak. But it was
tight and forced, throat dry. "I don’t know what game
this is, but get the fuck off of me right now. And get out.
"

"Have those words EVER worked, Eiri-kun?" She
plucked the unlit cigarette from between them, placing it between
her lips, pulling a silver lighter from her pocket, flicking it
open, lighting the cigarette. She looked up at him, the flame
dancing in her eyes before flicking the lighter shut, holding it
by the top so Eiri could see the 18kt gold inlay of her last name.
Eiri had given Yuki that lighter on his last birthday. "I've
missed you."

Something was breaking inside of him, and he knew that if he
really acknowledged it, he would break apart with it. Every
motion and sound plucked at his insides, making his breathing
quicken, painful through the tightness of his chest.

This just didn’t make sense. But the smell was nice. Through
the bright fire, he saw the name glowing.

Eiri remembered walking side by side with Yuki while the young
man smoked, always so courteous to never blow it in his face.
That was another smell that would permeate the young boy, which
he would take home with him. Tohma had complained about it,
though he suspected it had more to do with him smelling like Yuki
in general than the nature of the smells. Yuki had always lost
his lighters, or used them until they were dry. Eiri would laugh
at the way he shook the dry lighters, trying to make the fumes
light it one last time.

So, he had bought him the lighter, and he refilled it every week
to make sure it never ran out.

It still didn’t make sense.

Then again, nothing in the past few years had made much sense. He
lived between two dream worlds, both of which were equally as
diluted and syncopated. Every second he slipped, barely there
before it was gone and onto the next. So this was okay, he just
slipped a little bit faster.

It was amazing that he was able to speak again; sure he was going
to be sick. Was he sweating? Yes. And suffocating.

"I missed you, too." he thought before speaking.
"Get off of me."

"But I dont' want to get off of you, Eiri." She leaned
in even closer, lips brushing over his as she spoke before
seizing his lower lip between her teeth gently, tugging on it.
Her lips then moved to his ear, caressing the delicate flesh.
"I want to stay here until you push me away. After all,
that's what you're good at. Shoving away those who love you.
Destroying them...killing them. Or so you thought." A deep,
rich chuckle caressed his ear as her hand slid up his stomach,
resting just below his heart. "Do you really want me to get
off on you...er...of you?"

Yuki was leaning into him, and Eiri tried to push back further,
the resistant wall not budging one bit for an escape. But his
body was betraying him: unable to push him away, shivering as the
breath caressed his skin, teeth sending jolts of electricity down
his spine. Somewhere in him, the sickness till boiled, but horror
and disbelief were alive in dull transmission. The volume had
been turned down so they remained in him in a distant, faint buzz.

The chuckle seized him, and he shivered again.

Eiri finally opened his eyes again and looked down at the man. It
was so strange to look down at him; Yuki had been so much taller
than him when he was a teenager. "Apparently, I’m not
very good at killing. I… I don’t understand." He
should have found Yuki’s words cutting, cruel or mocking,
but he couldn’t. All he could do was peer into his eyes and
into that smile.

Once too shy to make this motion, he lifted a hand and started to
touch the face and hair, confirming its reality. He hadn’t
woke up yet, though he hoped with desperate will that any second
now he would wake up with his head on his desk, Shuichi making
some loud noise somewhere in the house. It felt so real that he
could only sigh.

The hand on his chest moved up to up the back of his neck,
holding him in position, as she explored the cavern of his mouth,
forgetting about Shuichi. Forgetting who she was...and who she
wasn't.

Everything melted into one warm, fuzzy ball of lucid reality that
began to fade out slowly. His body was real, Yuki’s body was
real, but everything else vanished into the unimportant
background, a mere prop on a stag One dimensional, shaky to the
touch.

So was he. He felt faint, weak, and sick.

The fantasies of a long gone 16-year-old boy came crashing in
around him, springing back to life. He had wondered what this
would be like; only he never had the courage to seek out the
mouth for himself. There had been times when he was almost sure
that Yuki would do this very thing to him.

His eyes closed on their own, a soft humming sound against his
pressed lips, which slowly began to open to accept the kiss. Once
he started to kiss back, he couldn’t stop. It was out of his
control. Hands gripped the arms through the jacket, feeling the
familiar leather that he used to complain stuck to his skin, but
never pushed away from. It was always coy artifice, and Yuki
loved it, it made him pull the young boy to him harder in
response.

Their games had always kept them on the brink between friendship
and respect to physical intimacy. Just one step more would have
taken them all the way there. Shame the step had come the wrong
way at the wrong time.

But he was kissing now, and he couldn’t stop, not even
because he was shaking or beginning to cry. It was all okay
because he was kissing Yuki, and Yuki smelt so good. "Yuki…"

And with that, Yoshiki was completely gone. All that was left was
need, desire, want, hunger and this feeling of needing to
complete something, to finish the task.

The kiss grew deeper, hungrier as he hands explored of their own
will, shirt and pants were just obstacles to be over come as
fingers slid buttons from holes, exploring the warm flesh,
touches hungry and greedy.

A moan escaped her and she pressed harder against him, teeth
biting at the lips and tongue offered, nails scratching lightly
over Eiri's sides. "Eiri..."

It was supposed to have been this way from the beginning, wasn’t
it? Instead of how it was, this was the course necessary, the one
that fate had obviously deviated from, destroying the both of
them.

But he wanted this; he had always wanted this, and that was why
it had hurt so much to be betrayed. If it could have just been
this way, everything would have turned out differently for the
both of them.

His skin was suddenly on fire, burning and aching in such a
delicious manner that all he could do was moan. Turning his eyes
down, he watched Yuki’s hands against his chest, heart
speeding up to a pace that he knew had to be life threatening.

Something inside of him was beginning to die, and he felt weak.
Something that had been supporting him for so long, so long that
he had come to depend on it was slowly dissolving in the wake of
these hungry kisses and caresses. It made him dizzy and yet
utterly alive.

He slid his hands into the collar of the leather jacket,
beginning to peel it off, pushing it as far as he could because
he couldn’t stop touching the flesh of his naked neck and
the hair that tickled the backs of his hands.

It took every ounce of strength, but he pulled away from the
lips, not the hands. Those he let stay, caressing his flesh that
was now so alive it ached. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Suddenly shaking off the stupor, Shuichi turned and tore into the
main room, screaming. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

She looked up at Eiri, not even hearing Shuichi, swallowing hard.
"I need you. I need to finish this. I need to feel your
skin, your body against mine. I need to touch, to taste, to
remember." The words weren't hers, they were word from some
place else, something else...someone else. They were pulled from
deep inside her, spilling past her voice box, given form and
shape as they poured from her lips into the air between them.
Waiting.

The fact that Shuichi was livid with anger and fear is obvious.
"I SAID GET AWAY FROM HIM!" He viciously grabbed
Yoshiki's shoulder. "Don't. Touch. Him."

Shuichi’s voice was like his alarm clock first thing in the
morning, waking to a new day after a night of absolutely no sleep
at wall. Standing like a zombie, not at all connected to the two
feet that walked with one in front of the other to go about the
dreary day. And he had been so alive, too.

Why did reality have to feel like a dream, and his dreams
reality?

Whatever it had been that was coming undone inside of him, that
had made him feel so utterly relaxed, was winding back together
now, and an insupportable rage came over him. He didn’t know
what to do; he wanted to scream, hit, cry, and break everything
around him, including the people.

"I need you. I need to finish this. I need to feel your
skin, your body against mine. I need to touch, to taste, to
remember."

You should have said that years ago, just like this. He
thought bitterly.

The desire in his eyes was real, and it was so familiar. That
look had met his gaze every time he looked at the older male;
only he had been too innocent to know what it was. It had made
him nervous, but the na�ve him had simply pushed all of this
away in favor of allowing the man to consume him in his attention
and affections. "Yuki… I… You." Something
tore Yuki from him, and he reached to grab hold of the man,
shaking his head from side to side.

The second Shuichi grabbed her she reacted, body spinning, and
the back of her fist connecting with the side of his head. "Don't
fucking touch me, brat." She glared at him, fire burning in
her eyes. He was nothing, a worm, and an annoyance. "Stay
out of this, idiot." She turned back to Eiri, the fire dying
slowly. "I...you...what, Eiri-kun?"

Shuichi stood, trembling with anger. His words spilled out
through clenched teeth, his hand to the side of his face, feeling
a bruise starting to form. "Him…or…me…"

I love you, Yuki.

Eiri said it inside of his head. He had always said it inside of
his head, each and every time he stood over the grave in New
York, staring at the fading letters, eroded by time and the cruel
environment. Nothing was playing out the way that it should have
been, and he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling. He
managed to make the rest of him blank and cold, eyes glaring at
the two of them, fixed, fake hatred. An entire stance of angry
artifice. It was all he could do to keep from screaming or crying.

He hated weakness. He had never felt so weak in his entire life.

It was so cruel that Shuichi was trying to make him choose, this
very moment. Peace inside of him had been shattered, and he was
back to being Yuki himself. Eiri-kun was long gone.

And he had felt so safe with Yuki’s arms around him. It had
been so wonderful. He wondered if that was what Shuichi felt when
he hugged him; that sensation that as long as you were in those
stronger, more controlled arms, everything would be okay.

That had been taken from him, and he was naked, and vulnerable,
and angry at everything and everyone for not giving it to him.

Please touch me again, Yuki.

Another desperate thought that he could never convey, especially
through the hate in his face. "Shuichi, are you okay?"
Damn his voice for shaking. Damn the ground from going out from
under him, too. All he could do was slide down the wall and sit
staring at them, refusing to choose. How could you choose between
the living and the dead? Between you’re first and true love?
Between the two who brought you to life?

"Who cares if the brat is okay?" She knelt next to
Eiri, gently caressing the side of his face, letting her nose
brush over his cheek as she kissed his ear. A part of her knew
how to play his body like a well-tuned violin. "Forget the
brat...let's finish this. We've waited to long, the dance is
getting tiring." She nipped at his ear in between words,
moaning oh so softly into the curved shell.

Shuichi nodded slowly, letting his fingers drop from the bright
red skin of his temple, a black and blue tinge creeping a cross
it. He ran to Yuki and dropped to his knees, trying to hold him
close and bat Kitazawa away.

He had been waiting so long for something he never thought he
would get, something lost to him. Something he had given up along
with so much of else of himself. Died and reborn in an instant,
and born into the same body but full of a new awareness… all
new hatred and anger, and a cynicism that kept him from ever
really enjoying anything.

Why were they both tearing him in two different directions? Where
the hell was that useless idiot Tohma when you needed him!?

"Eiri-kun, why don’t you come here? I won’t hurt
you." He said that out loud, remembering that was the last
thing said to him before the entire world blew into a mess of
trauma and anger. He had believed it, of course, despite the
hungry look in Yuki’s eyes. Truth be told, he had liked it.
It had awoken in him a completely male sense of sexual awareness
and desire. It hadn’t been until he saw the others that he
got scared. Yuki could have had him, he was completely willing,
but he screwed it all up.

And now his lips were against him, like they had been. But they
were gentler, even though they were insistent and commanding.

It was through his haze that he reached out to touch the bruise
on Shuichi’s face.

Could two people live in one body and live two lives at the same
time?

There was one Eiri submitting to the kisses of Yuki, feeling them
bring him to life. He had been asleep for so long. But there was
another one, the now Eiri, reaching for the angry little pink
soldier in front of him to touch the bruise, to kiss it. "Why
are you two doing this to me?"

"What else do you expect me to do, Eiri-kun? You are MINE.
You were mine first, you have always been mine. You call yourself
Yuki now. More proof of whom you truly belong to. Who truly holds
you're heart." He moved back in front of Eiri, touching his
face, looking into those eyes he loved so much. "I'm sorry."

Shuichi gasped suddenly and drew back, shivering with tears
spilling from his eyes. "E-E-Eiri...I'm...I don't want... to
hurt you.." He sobbed, watching what was happening. "I...hate…him...
"

Mine. He had so many people walking around claiming that he
belonged to them. Eiri had no idea now who he belonged to in
actuality; their separate claims were all so solid and reasonable.
Tohma for taking care of him, Yuki for being his first love, and
Shuichi for being the one thing that kept him alive. They all put
down their stake of ownership on him.

It made him laugh, a laugh that would have continued if Yuki hadn’t
come out with an apology. His face went blank, letting out a deep
sigh before shaking his head, refusing the apology. "Sorry?
Not until you tell me what you’re exactly sorry for."

I’m sorry, too, Yuki. I’m sorry for not giving you
what you wanted. If I had, everything would have been alight in
the end. Better than this.

"Shu-kun, don’t hate him. It’s not like you to
hate. Leave the hating to me." He turned to look at Shuichi,
shaking his head from side to side. "Please, don’t cry."
He couldn’t stand Shuichi’s tears; never had they
seemed more inopportune. Especially when he wanted to cry, to be
held, to be comforted, he was forced into the role of the
comforter.

He ran his fingers through Eiri's hair, hand trembling slightly.
"I'm sorry for destroying you. I'm sorry for accepting ten
fucking dollars for you, a boy who could have no value because he
was priceless. I'm sorry for getting drunk, I'm sorry for hurting
you, I'm sorry for raping you, I'm sorry for taking your trust
and laughing in your face. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
The words were becoming rushed, running together, breaths barley
being taken in between, tears streaming down his face as
everything poured out of him in one mad, confused jumble.

Shuichi couldn't stop the tears, and the painful throbbing on the
side of his face increased his sense of delirium. He suddenly
looked up, fire in his eyes. Don't touch him again." He
suddenly threw himself on Kitazawa, fighting with all of his
heart.

"You little fucking brat!" He grabbed Shuichi around
the waist, pulling him back and into his lap, holding his
squirming body as tight as he could. "Stop it, stop it, stop
it. Why are you trying to take this from me?"

Shuichi jerked away from his lover's grasp, looking up at him
with terror and deep pain in his eyes. His eyes were dark, his
body shaking. Shuichi backed away, the tears streaming down his
cheeks "Then... I'll go. You... won't have to see me again."
He stood up shakily and turned away, the expression on his face
blank despite the fact that tears were drowning his cheeks. He
began to limp towards the door still hanging open, his head
throbbing.

There was no way that he could win. No matter what, he was going
to lose something. Let Yuki walk out without another word, give
up what he had needed for so many painful years. Or let Shuichi
walk out, the only one in the world who ever really cared about
him.

No, there was no way for him to win. Why did he have to choose?

Why couldn’t he let Yuki hold him until he was done crying,
and then come back to Shuichi a better person because it had all
been lifted away? Years and years of one bad dream after the
next? Then he would win. This is how he would lose, and he was.

Yuki’s apology had been so real and sincere, too. It was
perfect. And it hurt him even more that he had to let it go, to
leave everything else unsaid and unhealed to keep Shuichi from
running away and leaving him alone.

He couldn’t help but give Yuki a broken gaze, longing to be
wrapped in his arms as Yuki whispered his apologies over and over.
He wanted- he needed- Yuki to make it all better, but he couldn’t
have that. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, the air filled the
hollow inside of him and left little for his lungs to take in.

Slowly, he got up, grabbing for Shuichi. "Don’t go,
please."

He glared after Eiri, his face a mask of pure hatred as Eiri made
his choice and went after the little pink haired slut, turning
his back on HIM.

He stood, body trembling as he shoved a hand into his inner
jacket pocket and pulled out a revolver that Yoshiki had not
known was in there. He raised it, the trembling slowing to a stop
as his world narrowed to the sight of that broad back in front of
him.

Arm tense, stance straight, the thumb flicked down the trigger
hammer, the click loud in the rushing silence that had filled his
ears. The finger started to squeeze down on the trigger as
blackness claimed his sight and a shot rung out, hitting a vase
that died valiantly.

He lay on the floor, spread out, gun resting loosely in his hand,
unconscious.

Shuichi stood frozen in place under the touch of Yuki's hand. His
heart pounded in rhythm with his head. Shuichi's entire world was
shattered, and now there it was, a glimmer of hope. "Yuki.........
I want you to be happy." He savored that touch, knowing that
it may be the last he got. He wanted to be with Yuki. But he
wanted Yuki to be whole even more. He turned in shock at the
sound, staring at the unmoving form.

The snapping sound of a gun hammer, and he smiled. Eiri wasn’t
sure why, but he smiled. He didn’t want to turn around to
look, but his breathing became shallow with expectation. In his
head, he started to count the seconds, wondering how long it
would take.

The gun went off with a deafening pop; close rang making his ears
ring. Over the vibrating in his ears, he heard the vase, and
turned around immediately.

Yuki? He was gone.

Training his eyes to the ground, he saw the body lying with the
gun next to him. Such a familiar pose.

Please, don’t leave me. Don’t be angry with me. Wake
up and tell me that you love me again.

He dropped to his knees, touching the soft male face, trying to
bring life back into it. Just minutes ago he had been kissing and
touching, and coming to life in a way he had thought was lost to
him. Years had vanished and pain had gone with it. The emptiness
inside of him had begun to fill and close, now opening up with
such a pain he was sure he was bleeding inside. All he wanted was
for Yuki to open his eyes and begin spouting apologies and
caresses again.

"Shuichi, I don’t understand. What happened? Yuki…
goddamn you." How was Shuichi supposed to know? HE was the
one that was supposed to know, it was always his job to have
every answer.

Shuichi took this as an accusation. He fell to his knees, feeling
broken and abused. Thoughts that terrified and threatened to
destroy him spun in his head:

Yuki will never love you fully, he will always love Kitazawa.

You're just the replacement

you're useless to him.

His sobs were painful, each one breaking him more. He wasn't
crying for himself anymore, but for the one he loved. Shuichi
loathed the fact that Yuki thought he was crying for his own pain.
"Yuki.... I'm crying for you.... I'm hurting with you...
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Rememberance of a Dead Man