A Simplistic Kind of Love

By Days of Azure

After arriving home from a rather tedious book signing, Yuki has a brief conversation with Shuichi and reflects on some profound realizations about their relationship. (Something of a retort to those who write Yuki as a depthless, harsh character)

A/n: Well, this is my first actual "fanfiction" that I've written (my primary focus is on original slash at the moment). The inspiration for this particular one-shot came to me when I noticed how often Yuki is portrayed in fanfiction as a rather flat and shallow character. This is rather upsetting to me, as I view Yuki as character with a lot of depth and complexity. All reviews will be very much appreciated and I will try to write back to you if you request so. Thank you very much for reading; I hope you will enjoy! (Also: I apologize for the lack of paragraph indents; I can't seem to figure out how to correct that...)

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or any of its characters. They are all property of Maki Murakami. I profit from this is no way.

xXx

Sharp, obtrusive eyes analyzed the words that lay before them. Those words seemed to embody every emotion, every thought that had ever coursed through me, and they were the reassuring barrier that separated myself and the man standing next to me. If he were truly able to uncover all that was encrypted within my work, he'd learn of the truly vulnerable man I was beneath the false, confident exterior I'd deliberately made perceptible to others.

"Well, I believe," he began on a safe, cautious note, "that you're a very deep writer. Very talented." That sweet and familiar sensation of relief passed through me at his aloof and impersonal remarks, hinting that he had taken my latest piece to be a mere work of fiction, just as I had hoped. It was apparent that he was incapable of deciphering the meaning that was so adeptly veiled in my words.

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me," I replied grinning, a truly pathetic attempt to appear genuinely grateful for his oh-so-profound words of praise. Insignificant people and surroundings all blurred as on as I made my desperate dash for the exit. I had made my appearance, spoken the adequate words; it should've been more than enough to keep from creating a stir, more than enough to satisfy the greedy masses that called themselves my fans. They had all been too busy making idle banter amongst themselves to notice my subtle exit. It wasn't that I necessarily felt hatred towards them, but the way they were all so pretentious and less than genuine, and yet still claimed to find merit in my work disgusted me.

As I made my way towards my car, head bowed and out of sight, I wondered if writing a novel inspired by my lover had been a mistake. The idea had come to me amongst many repetitive and tedious ones that my fans seemed to, for some reason unbeknownst to me, absolutely adore. It was not often that I actually felt inspired to write something beyond formulated romance. So, in a moment of openness, I'd accepted the idea and set out to write something that captured the relationship between Shuichi and me.

It had not been an easy task, not by any means. A story that required something from me emotionally was almost foreign. Regardless of the difficulty, I had felt inexplicably driven. Days would pass by in which, captured by sudden motivation, I would spend the majority of my waking hours in my study, hammering away on the keys of my laptop, pouring my soul into each distinct line. Of course he had been completely respectful. I can't say that he had understood my sudden determinedness, but he had understood that it represented something that was very important to me. Every now and then he'd enter my study, a cautious air about him, simply to make sure I was holding out. Occasionally small, vigilant hands would find themselves running through my hair gently; it was one of his faint ways of letting me know that he was there without disturbing me.

I believe that, at times, he must've grown lonely. Absorbed in my work, there had been little time for much conversation. Aside from a few words, there had been very little communication between us at all. He too had been engrossed in his own work at the time. The details were unknown to me, but he'd mentioned something about recording a new album.

The inside of my apartment and the solitude if offered proved to be a welcomed site. I flung my jacket onto something unidentified in the darkness, as I was too exhausted to keep up with my typically immaculate house. The lingering scent of unfamiliar foods filled the air; he had found something to eat, that was good. Making my way past various shapes veiled in the shadows, I softly crept inside my bedroom.

I could see the vague outline of his small, lithe figure resting beneath an old quilt atop my bed. He stirred, ever so slightly, as I ran a hand against his warm cheek. His skin felt soft; it always did. Removing my clothes, I slid in next to him and wrapped an arm around his narrow frame. My nerves were slightly rattled from the events of the night. It had taken so much courage to write such a heartfelt work and release it to the public. It was as though I'd taken a deeply hidden piece of myself and exposed it to everyone. Luckily, most had written it off as another silly romance, only between two men this time as a gimmick to capture the attention of more readers.

I ran a hand through pink, matted hair as I listened to the sounds of slow, consistent breathing emitting from my lover. It was a secretly favorite thing of mine to do, listen to and watch Shuichi as he slept. Amongst all of the tragedy and sorrow that had plagued my life, amongst all of the fear and confusion, he always provided me with a sense of consistency that I didn't fine anywhere else. He was what I thought of as my one constant in life.

My hand froze as brilliantly violet eyes shot open, revealing his slight surprise. I stared blankly into them, waiting for his response.

"Hey…you're home," he murmured sleepily as his eyes closed shut in rest once more.

"Ngh…yeah."

"Did you have fun?" he asked sincerely. I wondered why chose the worst hour possible to make conversation.

"What the hell do you think," I replied angrily. He laid unflinching at my harsh tone, used to receiving bitter treatment. The thought made me regretful for a moment.

"Hey Yuki…"

"WHAT?"

"Your new book…what's it about," he inquired. I pondered for a moment, unsure of how to capture everything I had written in a brief description.

"It's about…a simplistic kind of love between two people…I think that's the greatest way to describe it."

"It sounds good. Maybe someday I'll read it."

"You could try, but I doubt you'd like it," I whispered, my voice trailing off as a result of my fatigue. He turned, his face no longer in my view, so that he could lie against my chest. A few moments of comfortable silence hung between us as I began to drift off into sleep.

"Hey Yuki…"

"WHAT NOW."

"…I love you." Sitting up for just a brief moment, I placed a quick, chaste kiss upon his forehead.

"Go to sleep already." He chuckled at my forced annoyance.

"Goodnight, Yuki."

xXx

End