HI GUYS, I'M HERE AGAIN! MISS ME/is pelted with eggs/ Damn, guess not...Heh, too much stress leads me back to writing fics again. Not my fault...and, to my frustration, Irealise I never completed the other gravi fic of mine...what a scar upon all the other completed ones...well, if anyone wants me to, I'd gladly continue it...but..well...motivate and bribe me, dudes!

I am so totally happy with all the support to my other ficcie , Protective. That really really made my day..thanks to those who read it, and even more so for those who gave me feedback and opinions.

Oh, back to this fic...well, I got the idea from the manga when Shuichi was all like 'How many times have I thought of death?" or something like that. Which book was that? 11? Anyways...just read on. Oh wait, it's very much unedited un betaed...un-everything.

Not mine.

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Doubts and Revelations

He sat on the wet floor, sparkling pieces all around him. Some were lodged in his palm and random places in his skin, but somehow he felt numb towards the pain. Eiri's scathing words still rang much too clearly in his mind, and Shuichi could no longer stop himself from crying. He didn't want those precious words spoken like that, without any feeling at all. He didn't want his Yuki to love only Kitazawa-san. He didn't want….god, he didn't want so many things. But all were out of his control.Yuki loves only Kitazawa-san, can see only him. His Yuki was stuck with the specter of the past haunting him doggedly. Yuki Eiri, whom he loves so dearly, didn't seem to love him. Yuki didn't want him.

Shuichi cried and lifted his arms in a self embrace. He tried to muffle the sobs as best as he could as what happened just a few minutes ago flashed through his mind

"Yuki, why won't you tell me you love me!" Shuichi squealed loudly and, in Eiri's opinuion, annoyingly. As if in agreement, the headache he had been having the whole day now throbbed even harder. Eiri started as slim arms wrapped around him in a familiar embrace. Inexplicable anger coursed through him and roughly he pushed Shuichi away.

"Get off me, you brat!" He growled and shoved the pink barnacle off his waist. Shuichi, not quite expecting the strength in the push, overbalanced and the next thing he knew, he had landed on the kitchen floor with bits of glass around him and embedded in his skin. To his credit, he did not scream and moan about the agony, only lifted hurt eyes to Eiri's unfathomable ones.

"Clean that up, brat."

With that, the handsome novelist walked back into his study without the slightest glance over his shoulder.

Hissing as a bigger piece of glass buried itself in his palm, Shuichi gingerly got up and headed to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he slumped onto the floor, leaning against the wall. He felt tired, dizzy and…exhausted and depressed. The week had been rough, what with all the promos for the upcoming tour next year and arranging the tracks for the coming album. He had put all his heart into the lyrics for his songs, and had also taken up the responsibility of composing the music for half the album as well. Adding the fact that Eiri had retreated to his study for hours to no end, the vocalist had barely seen his lover all week.

He missed Yuki…loved him with all his heart and soul. But Yuki didn't seem to return that love. Shuichi had tried to tell himself that it doesn't matter, that Yuki just didn't know how to express himself, that his past had rendered him emotionally crippled. But in times like this, what he needed was not coldness and doubt. He knew, it wasn't fair to doubt Yuki, but he could no longer quell it. He wanted more than anything else, more than fame, more than the euphoric rush when he is on the stage singing his heart out…he wanted Yuki to love him. He would die just to hear those three precious words from Yuki.

Is that what Yuki wanted? Is death the only thing that would earn him those words? The tears fell once more and he squeezed his eyes shut. Gasping as the glass went deeper into his palm when he fisted his hands, he held back a sob and quickly pulled it out. Under the bathroom light, the piece of glass shone invitingly, and he lifted it nearer to his wrist. A slight pressure let loose an onslaught of agony as a fierce line of crimson marred his previously unscarred wrist. Shuichi quickly dropped the sharp piece and pressed his shirt against the wound, effectively stopping the bleeding.

Coward he felt like he was, but he couldn't bear to die. To die meant not seeing his beloved anymore. It meant losing everything before it started; his efforts in earning Eiri's love, fame, his friends and his family. He couldn't do it, didn't want to.

Yuki…he needed him now…

Clumsily, he got up, swaying slightly from the blood rush to his head. Two doors slammed open, two obstacles, and he found himself with an armful of Yuki.

"What the hell, you fucking punk, get off – "

Eiri's words trailed to a stop, as he felt the sticky wetness permeate his white shirt. He looked down, horrified.

"You're bleeding! No, get off now, Shuichi, let me see where you're bleeding!"

Shuichi sobbed harder, and held onto him tighter. The worry coiled harder in his stomach, causing him to feel almost nauseous. Eiri tried to push his lover away, but drew back horrified as his hands met slick wetness and cold sharpness as Shuichi cried out in pain. Slowly, he reached out again and pulled out the small pieces of glass. Slowly and carefully, he pulled all that he could find out as gently as he could. His arms roved over Shuichi's shaking form in the process, unintentionally arousing him. By the time he realized it, Shuichi had already initiated the desperate kiss. Confused, he found himself reacting instinctively; pushing the petite singer onto his back, and ravishing his battered body. Passion fed upon the wounded patches of skin in form of licks and caresses. Shuichi succumbed to his touches and rough dominance while the novelist tried as hard as he could to convey his feelings into the sweet overwhelming skin to skin contact. Quiet as he usually is, lowering himself down upon the sacred temple of his worship, he entered gently, and Shuichi was lost in the sea of pleasure. Love and lust no longer mattered, for they were now one and the same.

As he fell slowly into slumber's embrace, Shuichi felt gentle hands lifting him up. Too tired to muster anything more than the customary "I love you, Yuki…", he allowed Yuki to gently pull him up to lean against his chest. He felt band aids put upon his smaller wounds, and his right hand and wrist being wrapped with bandages. Yuki's touch was so gentle and unlike his usual rough manner, and Shuichi realized he was loved without words. For Yuki, actions were all he had left that was real. Words were no longer truth since that dark day in a certain New York apartment. Words were lies, and so Yuki wouldn't lie to him. His emotions were laid bare every time they connected intimately, in every kiss, every caress, every hug, and in everything except words. Words had no place between them, at least, not for Eiri.

In his lover's embrace that night, Shuichi knew that there would be trying times like this between them. He would doubt, he would cry, he would try to attempt the same thing as he did today. But he knew he wouldn't succeed.

His love for Yuki would be as strong as his will to live to see the day when words become truth once more.

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That's all...hehe, hope you enjoyed it...well, except for the grammatical errors and all. Yes, I know it's a damn sucky title; put up with it. I'm too lazy to think of one, so I settled for this instead. I swore I read back on it...but...gee, I suck at editing my own stuff...In any case, I didn't make this a deathfic cos I seriously don't think that Shuichi would actually go through with suicide unless Yuki left him permanently. However, that is my own opinion, so don't flame me on it. Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed it. And if anyone wants me to continue my other ficcie, "Phoenix Tears", remember to motivate me ... I'm very easy to bribe...hehe.../waggles eyebrows/