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It Ends Tonight	By : kamikazepenguinx Category: Gravitation > General Views: 4505 -:- 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
- 5
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Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or any related characters/names/places/studios/etc., nor do I own the song It Ends Tonight by the All-American Rejects, because believe me when I say that, if I did, I would not be submitting my meager works online.

Chapter 5: Operation Sushi

Damn�

Eiri Yuki touched the swollen purple area around his eye gingerly. Who knew the kid could punch?

Note to self -- kid gets violent.

Not even the small amount of makeup he used could cover that bruise.

I can�t believe he punched me�I need a beer.

Yuki switched off the light as he left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. In the past two days, since he�d found Shuichi at the guitarist�s house, he�d been through two six packs, and was starting on his third. His apartment was beginning to look like a landfill again, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was in fact not the left over takeout that was beginning to smell. He sighed and slammed the refrigerator door shut without taking the intended drink and instead began to hunt for a garbage bag. He wasn�t going to give up that easily. Oh no. It had taken him too long to realize that the kid was his, and he wasn�t about to have gone through all that for nothing.

It was a very painful thing to admit that you needed someone.

Eiri Yuki was not fond of pain.

I need a plan, he thought as he scooped takeout containers into the garbage bag he�d found. Well�first he needed an apartment that didn�t look (or smell) like a garbage truck had just exploded in it; there was no romance in two-day-old sushi, and romance was exactly what he needed. Shuichi had left because there was no romance in their relationship; he didn�t feel like the writer cared for him at all. All right then, if the kid wanted romance, he would get romance. Yuki stopped as the irony of his situation hit him: he was a romance novelist, who had just been dumped because he wasn�t romantic�Now that had to be an accomplishment.

Once his apartment was clean, the garbage safely outside in the can, and a good amount of pine-scented air freshener sprayed, Yuki sat on the couch and stared at the wall. So�he had to let the k- Shuichi�know that he cared. For some reason, he just couldn�t bring himself to say �I love you.� He knew that he did, and he knew that Shuichi wanted to hear it, but�he couldn�t quite come to terms with it himself. He was so used to not needing anyone in his life�his family he had lived mostly without for the better part of his life, and any woman in his life had only been for one night, at most a week or two. He had worked so hard to keep that mask, that distance. He had tried so hard to not get close to anyone�and it had worked, all of it, perfectly, until this boy had come into his life.

Yuki turned, stretching out on the couch, pondering the question he had asked himself almost constantly since the day Shuichi had thrown himself in front of his car. Why had he let this boy in? What was different about him? Why had he, Eiri Yuki, one of the most sought-after men in Japan, allowed this pink-haired menace, this stalker, into his home, his pants, and his life? He hadn�t been with a man since New York, all those years ago. Not that Shuichi could be called a man, exactly, except by anatomy. He was more like a six year old with accelerated growth hormones. He was an idiot. He was whiny. He was needy. He was scrawny. He was the complete opposite of the novelist.

He was perfect.

The blonde man on the couch snored softly, images of his idiotic lover filling his mind, lyrics from some musical or another strung out across it; Take me for what I am, who I was meant to be. And if you give a damn, take me baby, or leave me�

XxX

Two days�it had been two days, and his hand still hurt. Two days, and he hadn�t heard anything. Two days, and he still hadn�t spoken to Hiro. Two days, and he was still in his room. Two days, and he still couldn�t believe what he had done.

Shuichi Shindou had never (ok, maybe once or twice) looked worse. His hair was greasy, hanging limply in his face, his skin was pale, and there were bags under his eyes. He had been laying on his bed, unmoving, unsleeping, for two days, staring at the wall, unable to comprehend what he had done, and knowing what it would mean.

Yuki was gone.

For good. For real. He had blown it. He had wanted Yuki to come and get him. He had wanted Yuki to care. He had gotten what he wanted, and what had he done? Punched him in the face. He had marred that beautiful, perfect face�blemished that porcelain skin�Oh God he was an idiot! What had he been thinking? That was the problem � He hadn�t been thinking. He had just been so�angry. He had just wanted Yuki to listen to him, to give him a chance�to show that he cared about him. But no, the man couldn�t even give him that. No, he had taken one look at Hiro and Shuichi, jumped to so many conclusions, and stormed off. He didn�t even have the decency to demand an explanation. Not that Shuichi could blame him, of course. It had been pretty obvious what was going on. But Yuki didn�t understand, he didn�t even ask. The pop star had not wanted that. The singer did not want to have a relationship with his guitarist. The boy did not want to have sex with his best friend. Shuichi had not wanted Hiro to fuck him.

The boy buried his head in the filthy pillow, greasy from his hair and face, soggy from tears. Shuichi�s body shook as he sobbed, just like he had after Hiro had finished with him, just like he had after Yuki had left, just like he had every time he thought about that night.

He wasn�t mad at Yuki, not anymore. He wasn�t even mad at Hiro. It wasn�t Hiro�s fault. Shuichi had left Yuki. Shuichi had let himself be pulled into the shower. Shuichi had let Yuki get away. Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi. It was all, undeniably, Shuichi�s fault. Shuichi was an idiot.

More sobs wracked the thin frame as the boy on the bed relived the worst night of his life again and again.

XxX

Hiro sighed and closed the bedroom door. Shuichi was crying again, and it was all his fault. This whole mess was his fault. If he had been able to control himself�

What could he do? He was in love with his best friend, what was there to do? Nothing. He knew that Shuichi would never love him, at least not that way. That, he could deal with. It was this, this depression, this crying, that he couldn�t deal with. It killed him to see Shuichi so upset, so hopeless. But what could he do? The guitarist kept asking himself this question, over and over, each time avoiding one answer, the one thing that he knew he could do to help. He wanted to help Shuichi�but he wasn�t ready to turn him back over to that bastard Yuki.

I mean seriously, he thought. What kind of guy takes the time to find out where you�re staying, drive all the way there, and then run away as soon as something looks difficult? Why should I let him go back to that?

Because he wants to.

That little voice. That irritation little voice. Hiro was beginning to hate that voice. It was the one that kept telling him that, no matter what he did or said or thought, Shuichi loved Yuki, and that wasn�t going to change. It was the voice that kept offering up the only logical solution to his problem, no matter how many times he tried to push it out of his mind.

You know what you have to do, it said. You have to call him, and make him listen to you, and explain to him what happened.

Hiro snorted. He could hear the conversation now. �Hi Yuki-san, it�s Hiroshi Nakano, you know, the guy you found your boyfriend sleeping with the other night? Could we meet for some lunch sometime? There�s something I�d like to tell you.� Right.

It�s the only way to help him, the voice warned. Hiro tried to ignore it. There had to be another way�

If you love him at all, then you�ll do it.

Damn that voice. He knew that it was right. He knew that the only way to help his friend was to somehow, some way, get a hold of Yuki-san and make him understand, explain to him that it wasn�t what it had looked like, and get him to admit that he needed Shuichi just as much as Shuichi needed him.

Hiro opened the bedroom door a crack and peeked inside again. Shuichi was still lying face down on the bed, though his sobs had subsided and his breathing was now slow and even. Good, he had finally fallen asleep.

Now would be the perfect time to �

�Shut up,� Hiro sighed, silencing the voice. He would call the novelist, explain things to him, and then get him to agree to at least see Shuichi. After that, his task would be getting Shuichi at least looking presentable, and not like he had been lying on a bed for two days. This could be trickier than he thought, especially since Shuichi hadn�t spoken to him since that night. Well, he would just have to make things work, no matter what. Nothing could stop him.

Hiro stooped to examine the contents of his refrigerator, leaning on the door, as his stomach growled. He hadn�t even noticed his feet taking him to the kitchen. He pulled out a plate and peeled back the plastic wrap, trying to think of a name for his plan. After all, all good plans had names, didn�t they? He sniffed the plate, trying to decide whether or not the dubious mixture of rice and fish was still edible, what it was, and when he had made it. He smiled as both the name of the dish his plan came to him. The food was onigiri, the plan was Operation Sushi.

(A/N: onigiri is triangle-shaped sticky rice, that can have a variety of fillings. You may have seen them in the manga �Fruits Basket.� And no. The food, the name of plan - none of it has anything to do with the story, the plot of the story, the characters, or their relationships. Although if you really want to equate someone's relationship to raw fish, i suppose you're welcome to interpretation...:P)
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It Ends Tonight