Disclaimer: I don’t own Gravi, Maki Murakami does
Rating: PG for language
Warnings: shouen ai (no duh), fluff
Author’s note: Har, this is possibly the best fic I’ve ever written… no real comments, since I wrote this a while back and am just doing this now…
Shuichi stared at the note that was scrawled on his palm: Valentine’s Day – Sunday. Then, he proceeded to bang his head against the wall. It was Sunday. He had taken off work. Eiri was out. Today was Valentines Day, and he had no idea what to do.
He had thought of making chocolate, but that seemed like such a high-school-girl-ish thing to do. He could make a card, but that would be so unoriginal, and uninspired. The last thing he had thought of was buying/making a gift, but he hadn’t a clue of what Eiri would want besides beer or cigarettes, and that didn’t sound at all the kind of thing to get for Valentines Day.
He threw himself down on the sofa. At times like these, there were only two things to do, and he didn’t think calling Hiro would be appropriate at this time. So he cried.
He let the tears stream down his face an into the foamy cushions until he felt lightheaded, and then until he was hiccupping so often he thought he would suffocate. He stood to get a glass of water.
Upon opening the cabinet, he realized every glass they owned was dirty. He sighed, and wished Eiri would do the dishes once in a while. As he went over to the sink to start washing, he noticed a book sitting on the counter. The left cover was up, so he couldn’t read the title, and he tried to ignore it, but he had never seen it before, and so, as soon as a cup or two had been set out to dry, he wiped his hands off quickly and flipped the book over.
“Chocolate,” he read out loud, “Yuki Eiri.” This must be Eiri’s new book. He had been staying up later than usual as of late, so Shuichi had figured a new book would be out soon. He briefly wondered why Eiri had a copy of his own book, but what really took him in was the title. “Chocolate,” he announced again, letting the word slowly roll off his tongue. It must be an omen. He had to make chocolate.
He flipped the book back over, and then headed into the pantry.
“We must have some chocolate here somewhere,” he muttered, wandering around. Finally, he found a bag of chocolate chips, who knows how old, and brought them over to the stove.
Next, a pan. You did use a pan to make chocolate, right? He found a medium sized one in a cabinet, and set it over the burner. He turned it up medium-high, and then began dropping the chips into it. When he had used about a quarter of the bag, he began to search for molds.
He didn’t see why Eiri would have any molds, since he hadn’t bought any that Shuichi knew of for the past few years, and he would have no reason to have them anyway, but Shuichi found it necessary to search nonetheless. His efforts paid off about 30 minutes later, because he found some buried among potatoes in the pantry. After making a mental note to make Eiri clean out the pantry, he headed back out to his chocolate.
As soon as he left the pantry, he smelled something funny. It smelled like…burnt toast. “Crud!” he yelled, running over to the stove. Sure enough, his chocolate was bubbling and black around the edges. He immediately turned off the stove and waved his hands over it, as if it would help.
Well, no use crying over burnt chocolate. He ran to get a spoon and scooped the chocolate out of the pan and into the mold. It looked worse compacted into a circle, all blackish and, well, burnt looking. He shoved it into the fridge so that he didn’t have to look at it, and then glanced at the clock. It was 5:45. Eiri would be home in 15 minutes. There wasn’t time to make another one.
He got some plastic wrap out of a drawer, and found some ribbon in the bedroom closet, and then came back into the kitchen to make the best out of what he had. However when he opened the fridge and saw the state of his “chocolate”, he began to cry. Again.
It really was awful, all black and flaky and he bet it tasted horrible, too. He should just throw it away and make a card or something. But the thought of giving nothing was worse than the thought of the burnt monstrosity, so he put it in the plastic wrap and tied the ribbons on either side, and when he was done, it almost looked festive.
No sooner had he tied his last bow than the apartment door opened and in walked Eiri, looking rather hassled. Shuichi quickly ran the chocolate to the bedroom and shoved it into his bedside table to give to Eiri later, and then ran to greet him.
It turned out Eiri had pretty much had an awful, stressful day and nearly got run over by some kamikaze driver on his way to go get something or other and then had his car dented by some kid on a bike, and then been caught in traffic and been late to something else, and finally been called by Mika and yelled at for something he had forgotten or forgotten to forget. He was pretty much in a foul mood, so Shuichi steered clear of him until dinner, which was eaten in silence until near the end when Eiri finally spoke.
“What’s the date?”
Shuichi nearly choked. “The—it’s the fourteenth, Yuki. Why…do you ask?”
“It’s Valentines day, isn’t it?” Eiri asked, and Shuichi slowly nodded, convincing his body not to cry.
“I, um, made something for you,” he said, standing. “Hold on a minute.”
He ran to his hiding place and withdrew the chocolate, wincing at the sight. But he had made up his mind, and so he held the chocolate behind his back as he returned to a confused Eiri.
“It’s…not very good. In fact, I really screwed up. But, well, here,” he said, closing his eyes and outstretching his hands.
Eiri took the chocolate and Shuichi open his eyes. The writer was staring at the blackened object, but then turned to him and asked, “What is it?”
It was then that the tears came. Not just a few, the whole waterworks. “It was…supposed to…be chocolate!” Shuichi wailed, sure that he had failed miserably this time.
“Oh,” Eiri said, still staring at the object in his hands.
“You can just—just throw it out,” Shuichi sniffled. “It’s a piece of crap, and I burnt it and screwed it up. It would probably be dangerous to eat it.”
Eiri didn’t answer, but slowly unwrapped the plastic and then held it up to his mouth. Shuichi gaped as he took a bite.
His face didn’t show anything. Not disgust, not revulsion, not anything. And then, he opened his mouth. “It’s good,” he said, with all seriousness.
“You’re kidding,” Shuichi hiccupped. “You just want me to feel better. Or to shut up.”
“Do I usually lie to make you feel better, even if you are wailing?” Eiri asked.
“No, I guess not,” Shuichi admitted, then looked at the man in front of him. “You really think it’s okay?”
“Better than I could do,” Eiri said with a shrug. “I don’t really see what makes you so…dedicated. I’d never go out of my way to do something I’d never tried before just to make someone feel good about themselves.”
It was Shuichi’s turn to shrug. “I guess that’s just the difference between you and me.”
“You and I,” corrected Eiri. “Which reminds me, will you proof the first few pages of this for me?” He shoved the book at Shuichi.
So that was why it had been out. But why would he having it proofed now, after it was published? Shuichi pushed aside his confusion as he turned to the first page and read silently, ‘Chocolate. Yuki Eiri.’ He flipped the page, and prepared to read the short paragraph at the top. Why was Eiri having him read the title pages?”
His eyes moved to the beginning of the paragraph. It read:
‘To Shuichi, who is also sweet.’
He stared in disbelief. He read the sentence over and over until it he was finally assured that he wasn’t in some sort of hallucination. Then, he began to cry.
“What, again?” Eiri exclaimed, obviously annoyed. “That was supposed to make you happy, not upset!”
“I’M HAPPY!” wailed Shuichi.
“You’re bipolar, that’s what you are,” mumbled Eiri. “First sad, now happy, how the hell am I supposed to know what’ll set you off next time?”
“May…may I keep it?” Shuichi asked.
“What, the book? Yeah, I bought it for you.” Eiri said off-handedly.
Shuichi stared at Eiri for a few minutes before stating, “I love you.”
Eiri sighed. “Yeah, I guess I love you, too.”