In Over Your Head

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gravitation or the characters portrayed within it.


Summary: Yuki makes a weird move. He takes a drastic decision that results in a very awkward experience for Hiro, Shuichi, and himself, but is he aware of just how far he’s taken it? Or is he in over his head? Strong sexual content and language. Three chapters.

A/N: Ok, I wanted to write something completely different to this, just some good-old smut, but when I started... it turned into this travesty! O.o

It’s fairly long so I’ve split it into three chapters. I’m so nervous about it.

Warning: My first attempt at first person narrative. The story is told from Yuki’s extremely cynical point of view, so ‘actual’ facts are open to interpretation. There are very strong language and sexual references, with a good deal of blasphemy thrown in for good measure. If you are offended by any of this, I suggest you leave now. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. It’s not in line with Gravi, I guess, but then again, which of my writings are? I hope it’s nonetheless enjoyable for the sake of it. The whole story is written and I’ll be posting chapters 2 and 3 shortly.

I would like to dedicate this story to the wonderfully talented and much worshiped author of Inertia, littlenin, for her encouragement and support in moments of doubt. Thanks for your help; I can only hope you find some mild amusement in this humble story.

All types of feedback welcomed.

IN OVER YOUR HEAD


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In Over Your Head

The analogy is to an unskilled swimmer who has fallen into water that is too deep. You are in over your head when you face a challenge you are not able to meet. \"Over one\'s head\" refers to the depth of the situation one is in. The situation has become more serious (severe) than the person is prepared for.
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Chapter 1

Plunging In


“Hiro!! That’s not even funny!” Shuichi whines with that nerve-grating, high pitched voice of his and pouts cutely at his best friend. He wraps his cute little hands around his cute little stuffed toy and throws it half-heartedly at Hiro. The fluffy bunny bounces off his companion and knocks an empty glass over.


“Ooops!” Shuichi picks it up and sets it on the table, next to several empty cans of beer.


“Baka! You are so easily offended,” Hiro replies with a warm smile and a short chuckle as he hits him playfully with a closed fist on the top of his cute, little pink head.


Cute this, cute that. That’s what Shuichi is: an impossibly cute little thing.


I have been watching them for a few minutes now, but it’s more than enough. It’s not the first time I have spied on them, really. I find them fascinating. Look at the way they look at each other and smile. It’s just fucking obvious. All of the “casual” touches... feh! Why do they keep hiding behind this amicable façade when all they really want to do is screw each other silly?

I clench my teeth unconsciously. That it should come to this, right here in my own house. Horny little teens. Oh, especially Hiro! Just look at him! He’s wrapped his arms around Shu’s waist, and he’s now sitting on the floor behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder. I can almosel ael and smell Hiro’s hot alcohol-laced puffs of breath on Shuichi’s neck. The baka merely sits there and smiles. I bet he’s got a hard on, just sitting there behind Shuichi, imagining what it would be like to have his beloved friend in the way friends shouldn’t have each other, or men for that matter, with his throbbing cock buried deep inside Shu’s cute little ass. They are practically like brothers after all. Brothers with adulterated thoughts, fantasies they’ll never be able to realize now.


I wonder if they regret not having experimented with each other more back in high school. Of course they do, they must do, but was it just curiosity back then? Or was there something more? They’ll never know now. I smirk to myself. Not unless I grace them with my absolution. I wonder what they’d say if confronted with the knowledge. Would they try to hide it? Would they deny it? Hiro would probably try to punch me. It’s worth a try.


I walk into the room thereby making my presence known, but without looking at them, I casually stroll towards the kitchen. That gives Hiro enough time to shift back and pull his arms from around Shuichi’s lean body. Oh, he’s very good despite his obviously inebriated state. The movement was practically silent and very inconspicuous, and had I not been looking out of the corner of my eye, I would now be swearing the hug had never taken place and it had been all a product of my overactive imagination.


But I know better.


“Hi Yuki! I hope we are not being too loud! Hiro and I have just come up with a really good tune. This is gold dust! I can tell! I’m so excited!” The baka looks genuinely happy. He’s a bit tipsy, too. I wonder how long they’ve been drinking and ‘writing’.


“Hello, Yuki-san,” Hiro greets me flatly. His slate eyes bore into the back of my skull. He really doesn’t fear me. Too bad for him I don’t fear him either.

I step out of the kitchen, beer can in hand; I myself have had my share of alcohol today. Hiro’s eyes soften and he smiles back at me and waves his hand in the air. His cheeks are flushed, probably a combination of body heat, the alcohol, and a rush at nearly being caught in such a compromising position with Shuichi. Said baka is humming a tune, presumably the one they are currently coming up with. It sounds like all their other songs; nothing special. Gold dust he says... ha!


I greet them with a small nod of my head. I should get a hair cut. My blonde locks are getting too long. They hide my eyes behind a soft-textured curtain. I don’t like it. I want people to see my eyes. People can’t resist my eyes, my piercing glare. They have a murderous glint to them, something even Aizawa was able to discern.


I wonder why I remember that now. Shuichi let that bastard do that to him. He allowed two brute guys fuck him raw... for me. Isn’t that cute? He gave up his body willingly to protect me. To protect me from what? The media was bound to find out eventually, and find out they did. And what happened? I’ll tell you what happened: absolutely nothing, that’s what happened. If anything, it benefited both our careers. Besides, I wouldn’t have minded even if it hadn’t. But Shuichi didn’t know that. He did it for me. He’d do anything for me. He’s just too cute.


Does he really love me that much? I feel tempted to test him.


God! You made us humans a very vile creature! He really is twisted, this so-called God because you know how it goes: And God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.


So, he’s the vile one really. I just follow my human instinct. It’s definitely not my fault I’m this way; it’s part of the fabric my conscious has been weaved with. It’s engrained in my nature because I’m made after a vile god.

Cynicism aside, I do feel a bit curious. Humans are curious things, too. Vile, so very vile!


Hiro gets up from the floor and starts picking his things up. He’s so careful and so organized in the way he does things. First, he starts packing his precious guitar away. He organizes the plectrums by size before putting them inside a small compartment inside the case, between the neck rest and the area where the fretboard of the guitar starts. He’s got a tuning fork and some spare string in there, too. I’d say he’s just as nit-picky as me when it comes to his surroundings; everything must be tidy. I wonder how such a catastrophic person like Shuichi surrounds himself with people like us. I guess it brings out a balance, the Ying and the Yang. He folds a very thin looking cloth neatly into a square before resting it on the bottom of the case and placing his acoustic Gibson atop it. He really is very methodical; he would have made a good surgeon. Only Hiro abandoned this idea to follow Shuichi in his dream. Yeah sure, there are those who argue it’s their dream, but I think it’s more a matter of being close to Shuichi for Hiro. If Shuichi hadn’t felt so strongly about Bad Luck, then Hiro would have been just as happy to do as his parents had told him to. But he wants to be close to Shuichi, to please Shuichi, anything for his dear Shuichi. He fastens the buckles of the hard, black case firmly.

Shuichi hasn’t noticed yet. He just reads over the piece of paper clasped in his cute little hands and hums. He really lives in his own little, perfect world where everything looks pink through the tainted glass of his bubble. I feel compelled to open his eyes.

“Hiro, this is really good. We’ll go straight to number one this time. It’s so fresh and the lyrics are coming out pretty good. Ne, Yuki?” His tone is teasing, like he’s just discovered an essential truth and is about to enlighten me with his discovery. “You can’t say I have zero talent now. These lyrics are good, and Hiro helped me write them.” He cackles to himself. He’s really very proud, and he ploughs on with his monologue. “They are just as good as Grasper’s I’d say. And, that is a compliment coming from Nittle Grasper’s number one fun, a.k.a. Shindou Shuichi!”


He stands up, a fist raised high in the air. He looks so silly just standing there, fervor burning in his eyes. It’s cute really. He sways for a moment; he’d gotten up too quickly. Hiro smiles and shakes his head, looking at the floorboards. He raises his hand and hits him in the head like he did before. I wonder how many neurons he loses every time he’s hit like that. It might explain a few things.


“Don’t be so confident, baka! Come off your high horse or the fall will be mighty. It still requires a lot of work,” Hiro replies. I’d dare say he’s forgotten I’m in the room. I arch an eyebrow. Hiro really does keep Shuichi earth-bound. I’ll give him that. Shuichi turns around, his cute pink socks sliding over the wooden floorboards. He pulls another hurt face.

“Meanie!! You are supposed to be my undying fan! My eternal companion who will forever defend me from the witty novelist’s verbal assaults; not the one assaulting! You know? The one always by my side, regardless of the circumstances! Are you going to give up on me, too?!” He flops down on the couch dramatically; he deserves an Oscar for this performance.

The hidden meaning in his playful words, Hiro sees it too. Shuichi is an evil vermin. I’m sure he knows how Hiro feels about him and he leads him on. He needs that constant reassurance I don’t give him, even if it hurts Hiro. He convinces himself that he’s just being nice but, deep inside, he knows he’s being selfish for feeding his best friend false hopes. As long as it doesn’t go too far is okay, he says, as long as it doesn’t hurt him too much. Only until Yuki gives him what he needs because it feels good to be loved unconditionally, even if it isn’t by the person we want to love us. It makes us feel good, makes us love ourselves more. Yes, humans are vile.


“Shuichi, you are such a drama queen! All I’m saying is you shouldn’t get too cocky. The fact Bad Luck is doing very well at the moment is no guarantee we’ll be able to keep producing number ones as easy as baking pies! You know I believe in you. Shu, don’t go all soft on me now.” He says this last sentence with a smile, trying to mask his admiration and failing miserably. This makes Shuichi a very happy bunny. He bolts off the couch and hugs his friend in a rib-crushing embrace. I know how they feel; I’m greeted with them more times than I care to recall at this point. Hiro’s body tightens visibly, although not from lack of oxygen. He steals a quick glance at me. I take out my pack of cigarettes, illustrating my indifference.

“Hiro! I knew I could count on you.” He laughs freely and nuzzles Hiro’s neck. Not only is he playing with Hiro, he’s trying to play me, too, like one of his keyboards. He wants me to get jealous. Fat chance!

Shuichi now notices Hiro is carrying his guitar case, and he’s got his jacket on. He can be a bit slow sometimes, especially when he’s this hyper. I light my cigarette. The nicotine is absorbed by my lungs and quickly moves into my bloodstream, where it is pumped around my body and throughout my brain. I’m always amazed at the fact that all this happens within eight seconds; the human body is such a clever little artifact.

“Hiro, are you leaving already? We were working so well, too! Please don’t leave.” He’s really bold today, this pink haired brat is. He must be exceptionally hyper, and the alcohol contributes. He’ll realize later just what he’s done and come crawling to me, landing sloppy kisses all over me and declaring his undying love.

“You don’t have to leave, Hiro-kun.” I even surprise myself with the words. What am I doing? Both their eyes widen with surprise, they didn’t see that one coming. I love shocking people. I think I’ll give them my blessing tonight. I walk up to the sofa and sit down. Their eyes are still fixed on me, and then they look at each other in confusion. I have to hold back a chuckle. I amuse myself more than anyone I know.

“Were you planning to have all that whiskey to yourselves?” I point with my chin at the bottle of whiskey on the table, a small movement of my head. Those silly long tresses tickle my nose. I’m getting a hair cut first thing tomorrow.

“I could do with a drink, too. I need a break from work, and you guys shouldn’t over work yourselves either.” I take another puff. It’s getting late and the lights are off. As I inhale, the tip of my cigarette glows red in the petroleum blue shadows. It’s winter, and the sun is setting. The night, with its ghostly grasp, brings weird things.

I’m not even looking, but I can picture Shuichi’s goofy grin as I suggest we all spend some time together; except... he doesn’t know what he’s in for. He’s in over his head. Hiro, on the other hand, is a bit smarter. He’s suspicious. I can hear them whispering. Hiro is probably trying to get away while Shuichi is trying to convince him to stay; anything to spend some time with me. I think it is working because I hear Hiro put his guitar down. He can’t resist the baka. Shuichi must have pulled out the cute, puppy dog eyes, those wobbly orbs and cute little pout. I must admit even I’m not totally immune to them sometimes; I have my weak moments. I exhale the smoke slowly; I love the taste and dry texture of it upon my tongue. This is not one of those moments.

Hiro sighs in defeat. He’s been won over. Shuichi is very excited. He can’t contain himself. I know because when he’s like that he bounces, on his two cute, little feet. He’s now hopping towards the kitchen, mumbling something about the importance of getting some pocky. I can hear him fumble through the cupboards though the elusive little boxes rest where they are always stored. For a reason I fail to come to grips with, it’s always the last place where he looks.

Hiro has now sat down at the other end of the sofa, diagonally across from me. He takes out some cigarettes. We don’t speak to each other for a few moments, just sit there and smoke, blue swirling patterns dance over our heads. It’s surreal.

“What are you scheming?” Hiro is blunt and straight to the point, and his voice is low. He doesn’t want Shuichi to hear us talk. I think he’s ready to leave at any moment because he still hasn’t taken his jacket off.

“What would you say...” I make a pause to make sure I have his full attention. “... if I told you that I’m prepared to give you what you have always wanted?” I stare right into his eyes, although it’s hard to see them, it’s quite dark now. I hear him gasp. He’s unsure of what to say. He’s afraid I mean what he actually thinks I mean... which of course, I do.

Shuichi pops his head out of the kitchen. “Don’t run away, Hiro. You promised. Yukiii, I can’t find the pocky! If we’ve run out again I’m gonna have to walk down to the shop because there is no way I’ll make it through the evening without some.” He smiles that cute smile of his.

I smirk. Am I the only one who finds the dirty side to everything people say? I’m such a pervert.

“Baka, they are in the cupboard above the microwave where they always are,” I answer monotonically. Shuichi’s face brightens up, and he disappears into the kitchen again.

I look at Hiro, who in turn looks pensive. He’s playing with the box of cigarettes in his hand. He meets my gaze, and I turn my head towards the kitchen, to where Shuichi’s cute, little head has just disappeared and then look back at him. He locks his eyes onto the box of cigarettes, frowning. I can’t ream rim right now. This frustrates me.

Shuichi comes back in, chewing on one of those artificial-tasting sticks. He offers one to Hiro, who takes it and pops it in his mouth. I’ll stick to my own artificial sticks, thank you.

Hiro takes off his jacket. He looks nervous.

“Don’t worry, Hiroshi. You are in control. You have the last word. You can always say no.” I reach over to the table and put out my cigarette. Shuichi looks at me, surprised and a bit confused. I get up and walk towards a little cabinet on the side and pour us three glasses of fine whiskey. If I’m going to drink something then I’ll drink quality, none of that cheap, nasty stuff.

I bring back the glasses and hand them over. Hiro can’t meet my gaze. He hasn’t denied it, even though I haven’t spelt it out. He knows I know, and now we both know the other knows. It’s so perverse. I’m delighted. He wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. He’s nervous. He’s frustrated. He’s angry. The truth hurts. He takes his glass and gulps it down; he needs to numb himself. I think it’s a bit strong because he chokes afterwards. I drink all of mine, too, except I find it smooth.

Shuichi, not wanting to fall behind in the adult’s game, drains his glass, too. This is going to be very interesting indeed. This is exactly what I wanted.

Hiro and Shuichi are sitting together and I sit to the right of Shuichi but further away. I pour us some more whiskey. Shuichi is now babbling on about the new song again. I don’t think either one of us is listening. I’m smoking another cigarette and Hiro keeps wg hig his hands on his jeans and pulling his shirt down as though it were menacingly crawling up his body of its own accord when, in fact, it’s staying right down where he pulled it a minute ago.

A little while passes, and Shuichi doesn’t seem to notice. He can talk to a wall for hours. Or maybe he does notice but finds it best to pretend he doesn’t. That way he doesn’t have to deal with the fact that this is all very awkward. If he pretends everything is perfectly normal then maybe the magic fairy will come, in wings of glittery gold dust and essential truths, and with a stroke of her magical wand, make it all normal.

He’s finally fallen silent, and he bites his lower lip. His forehead is creased in a light furrow. He’s incredibly cute when he does that. I can’t help myself. I slide next to him, and he looks up at me with big, wide violet eyes. He’s so innocent, and I’m going to corrupt him.

“You are looking a little bit cute now,” I say, and he knows what’s coming. He blushes, and his irises turn to the size of two pin heads. I take his lovely heart-shaped face in my hands and bring our lips together. He seems surprised at first, as he always does, but then his eyelids slip closed, and he abandons himself to the sensations and kisses back. I nip on his lips gently, only to kiss him deeply and slowly a minute later, just how he likes it, running my tongue along the roof of his mouth in that way that makes him squirm. Our soft tongues wrap around each other, and I lick along the pearly line that is his top teeth, then the dip under his tongue, and the slippery walls of his inner cheeks, savoring him. I never tire of exploring all the little crevices in his mouth, and he always tastes different, always magnificent, but different. Today he’s sweet, with a hint of spice and oak, probably from the whiskey. God, I could drink him, and I bloody try, too. I bite him gently on that cute bottom lip of his, dragging it out as I do so, and I hear him moan. His body goes lax, and I have to hold him from falling off the couch. I am such a splendid kisser.

While we keep kissing, I lock eyes with Hiro, who’s entranced by our display. It’s not every day you see two guys kiss, one of them being the one you’ve countless times beat off to. Call me crude, but I speak the truth. He’s agand snd swallows hard, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away; his breathing quickens. I break the kiss, leaving my Shuichi breathless and in a wonderful daze. He’s in a land of fur and diamonds.

I cup his little chin and tilt his cute little face to the side, towards Hiro, and I smile; an offering.


‘I’m sharing,’ I seem to be telling him with my taunting eyes. He looks at me unbelieving, and then back at Shuichi, who’s still dazed by my kiss, and whose cute, perky lips are slightly parted. They are so tempting, so erotic, they invite you to come and play in the Garden of Eden, to lose yourself and sin without a care. I wipe the excess moisture off them with my thumb.


I see doubt cross his features and then something else. Lust is embedded in his pupils. I have no doubt he’ll accept the cursed apple. His eyes tell me so. His pent up frustrations can only be withheld so far. Endorphins are taking over his brain. He wants his friend so very badly. It’s wrong, he knows. I know. Shuichi knows. God knows.

We don’t care.


He can’t resist the pull of his body. He’s a charged particle in the vicinity of an electric field, it’s impossible for him to escape this permeating force, and he’s being dragged. Under normal circumstances, he would tell his brain that he just wants Shuichi to be happy, that he’s content to know his friend is happy. He doesn’t want anything for himself, least of all his body. Platonic love is fine by him because he cares for him that much, to the extent of sacrificing his own happiness for that of Shuichi.

That’s all very well and pretty, like one of those perfect lines out of my novexceexcept this isn’t a novel and these aren’t normal circumstances. This is reality, and reality is dark, cruel, and savage and he’s drunk; we all are. Humans are vile, selfish things. He’ll go along with it because it’s his only chance, because absolutely no one is that noble at heart.


We may act noble, but it’s just a projection of what we think we should do because we seek acceptance, because we want to be good, to be special. We must do what society has told us is morally appropriate and differentiate between what’s good and what’s bad. And, what he is feeling, what he’s contemplating, what he really wants to do, is very bad. Deep inside, he’s burning with desire, with impure thoughts, his soul is tainted and his loins are stirred.


Alcohol is a wonderful thing. It frees our minds, our darkest passions and desires, the ugly things concealed inside us. Those rapacious instincts, they come out in the night. The hold of righteousness in our minds, our inhibitions, are all cut loose and we see what we really want and we take it for ourselves. No one is free of their defiled nature and we become slaves to our vile side. At this point of no return, platonic love fails to placate our bodies’ needs and quench our thirst for physical contact.

It’s barely been a few seconds, Shuichi may snap out of it any moment now, and then he may have to “do it cold”. He may not bring himself to do it then, and he’ll miss his chance. It’s best to do it once the ball has been set rolling, and this momentum of madness is going strong, while everything is a mess and things are spiraling out of control. But he’ll do it, I’m sure of it, because, humans as well as vial, are carnal.

tbc