Notes: Written for the 2003 Yuletide fic exchange. Parachutes by Kittyling Yeah my head is a stormy haze I'll be round; I'll be loving you always, always Here I am and I take my time Here I am and I'll wait in line always, always -- Coldplay, "Parachutes" *** The cigarette is still burning, a faint red glow that's barely noticed beside the glaring, artificial light of the computer monitor. Eiri doesn't know what time it is, only focusing on the flow of words from his fingertips to the screen, the soft 'clackity-clack' of the keyboard the only sound in his office. It's quiet, dark, and at the very least past 1 AM--but he can't fall asleep. Not right now, not yet. There's too much on his mind, and the writing is therapeutic, something to focus on to make him forget. Trembling hands, the gun nearly slipping from them as he sees the blood--so much blood-- He winces, hand hovering above the enter key before he lets it fall to the desk, propping his elbows up on the hard wooden surface and letting his head rest in his hands. Eiri takes his glasses off and sets them down beside the ashtray, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. It's too late for this; not only that, but too many years have passed for him to be dwelling on it right now. Or ever. Especially since there's a pink-haired teenager sleeping in his bed, and if he has a breakdown, the last thing he wants is for Shuuichi to see it. He'd like to think that's simply because he wouldn't want anyone to see him like that; a couple of other thoughts flicker through his mind on that matter, but he disregards all of them except the first. The one that hits closest to the truth, however, is that he's not sure he'd be able to face concern, shock--anything like that--in the boy's normally bright violet eyes. He probably would have a different opinion on that matter if it were a few months earlier, and even now he can become easily fed up with Shuuichi's chipper demeanor, but this is different. The boy has known about his past for some time now, and when he tells himself that he doesn't care what Shuuichi thinks, it's a lie. Eiri sighs again, a hand running through blond hair in frustration. He's never going to get any writing done at this rate; he's already wasted a good ten minutes brooding, and he glances over at the clock beside the computer, red digits glaring the numbers '2:37' obnoxiously back at him. He saves his progress before closing out of the word document, deciding that he'll take a break, and maybe come back to it later tonight. Maybe. The silence in the house is welcome--if not a little strange--as he makes his way into the kitchenette, flicking the light on above the counter before opening up the refridgerator. It's empty aside from a few styrofoam carry-out boxes and the usual plentiful supply of beer; he takes out a can and flips the top, nudging the fridge door closed with his foot as he leans back against the counter, taking a long swig of the bitter liquid. Whenever he encounters writer's block the nights end up like this, but on the occasions when he remembers what happened that day... It doesn't happen often, but usually it's not too easy for him to go back to sleep. At least when it's just writer's block he can manage to get some rest before morning. At the sound of a door creaking open he sets the beer down, glancing up at the currently empty hallway and waiting for the inevitable--a hyper, whining Shuuichi demanding that he come back to bed right now. Probably with an added 'please?' at the end and a few 'Yuki, I love you!'s. When Shuuichi does appear in the doorway, he looks neither energetic nor noticeably distressed. He doesn't seem to even notice Eiri at first, starting when he does realize that the writer is standing in the kitchen and staring back at him. "Yuki! How come you're not sleeping?" The pink-haired boy is still lingering between the hall and the kitchen, peering through the doorway like a little kid not quite certain of whether or not they should go into their parents' room after a nightmare. He looks the part of the little kid, too, bright hair tousled as he rubs one of his eyes sleepily, clad in a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt that's falling off one shoulder. He's looking up at Eiri expectantly despite the fact that he's obviously barely awake, a hesitance about him that's only there on very rare occasions--at the moment, it's probably because he's half asleep. Shuuichi's question is stupid, in Eiri's opinion, and he lets the boy know that with a somewhat half-hearted glare. "I could ask you the same thing." Shuuichi grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his head, gaze lowering a little as he does so. "It got kinda lonely waiting for you," he replies, and Eiri takes another swig of beer at the boy's tone. Too quiet, too--too much of something, obviously, because it's making him feel guilty. "I was working," he grunts, trying to appear disinterested in what Shuuichi is saying. Apparently, that just encourages the boy, because he takes a step into the room and looks up at Eiri with large violet eyes. There's determination in them, anticipatory defiance, but mostly--and this is what Eiri hates most--concern. "You've been--working a lot lately, Yuki. You barely get any sleep. Can't you come back to bed now?" The pink-haired boy frowns, a slight pout to it that grates at Eiri's nerves, mostly because the pout affects him and almost makes him too weary to argue. He sets his beer down on the counter again, hands in his pockets as he walks over to where Shuuichi's standing and just looks down at him in silence. Shuuichi stays where he is and stares back, stubborn as usual. "Why do you care how much sleep I get? You shouldn't worry about me." Eiri doesn't mean for the words to sound quite as tired as they do when they escape his lips, and they apparently affect Shuuichi, because he's lowering his gaze again and tugging the t-shirt back onto his shoulders. "Because I love you." It's quiet, simple, and something that Eiri's heard a thousand times from Shuuichi but somehow, tonight it's just enough to sway him. Maybe it's because he's tired, maybe it's an answer to an unvoiced question that he's had in his mind all night--whatever the reason, he sighs a little and places his hand on the boy's shoulder, nodding. "You win," he murmurs, and he ignores the look of surprise and then contentment on Shuuichi's face at those words. Because I love you. And maybe--just maybe--it's because he feels the same. return to splash page