Gravitation: Drowning' Chapter 1 // K/Hiro
title: Drowning in your cold gaze, Drowning in your absence, Drowning because of you Chapter 1
author/artist: xchristabelx
genre: angst,romance,drunkfic,hurt/comfort
word count and/or category: 1431 /multi-chaptered fic
rating: PG-13 to R up to now, will be NC-17 in further chapters
summary: K loves Hiro, but Hiro seems to hate K. Now Bad Luck are on their first big tour and K is falling apart.
warnings: A lot of alcohol, self-destructive K, cursing.
disclaimer: If I owned the boys, they'd be chained to my bed right now.
notes: My first Gravitation fic, so please bear with me. Also not beta read (don't have a beta for this fandom *pouts*). But I'll go over it again when it's not in the middle of the night anymore.
Enjoy.
Chapter 1
„What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hiro yelled right at K’s face, blue-grey eyes flashing in anger. “Of course Shuichi wants to be with Yuki. He’s in hospital! So cancel the bloody concert.” K backed up a bit and against the wall, taken aback by Hiro’s outburst. “The concert is in four hours.” He tried to reason with the guitarist. “We can’t cancel it now. It’s too late.”
“The hell it is.” Hiro was now really pissed off. Shuichi had been a mess since Yuki had been transported to hospital once more two days ago because of a break down caused by too much stress. “So, prepare for Shuichi not doing this damn show.” Hiro continued ranting at the blonde man. “You’re our manager, K, so go and manage that. It’s not all about profit and success, you cold, heartless bastard!” With those words Hiro had run off, leaving a stunned and secretly hurt K standing there to deal with the upcoming mess that would ensue after the cancelling of that night’s show and his own emotions.
That had been half a year ago and ever since then Hiro had been completely cold around K, so much that the manager was glad, even, when Hiro ignored him completely. Everything was better than having the man who you secretly loved so much that it hurt openly hate you, K thought as he sighed sadly. And now Bad Luck were on their first big tour and K felt every meter of distance that was between him and Hiro even more.
The blond manager turned over on his couch and stared around his darkened living room. He didn’t consciously know why he kept replaying that fight with Hiro in his mind, but he had the feeling that the words ‘cold, heartless bastard’ had something to do with it; even though K would never admit that they had hurt him more than he could explain.
K groped the floor along the side of the couch, looking for the whiskey bottle he had abandoned earlier when he had become too drunk to hold it all the time. He finally found it and picked it up, sitting up on the couch to take a long drink. Yes, that was definitely a lot better, K decided as the liquor burned down his throat, creating a momentary numb feeling. Then he lay back down and curled up on his side, hiccoughing miserably as he stared at the walls and around the room, at the mess on the floor where eight empty bottles already lay.
Eight bottles, two for every night Hiro had been gone on tour. But no, that wasn’t right, K thought. It had been one the first night and two the second. Another two the third and then… oh, yes. One from that morning…
K had passed out the night before, blissfully drunk out of his mind, but he hadn’t been able to sleep for long. Around 5 am he had woken up again, feeling the worst headache ever. And instead of being the rationally-thinking individual he usually was, K had not gone for a glass of water and some Aspirin, but had picked up the next bottle of liquor straight away, emptying it over the next few hours. Some time around nine, probably, his phone had rung and K had reluctantly rolled from the sofa and had stumbled to get the call.
“What?” the manager had growled into the receiver, not at all happy about his drunken self-pity being interrupted.
“Hello, K?” the voice had sounded from the other end of the line. “It’s Sakano.”
K sighed, annoyed. And he didn’t even try to suppress his occasional hiccoughs, too drunk to care. “Whad’ya want?” the manager had slurred which he also didn’t care to hide.
A sharp intake of breath could be heard from the phone. “Well, you haven’t been at the office for nearly four days and I was wondering… But goodness, K, are you drunk?” The concern for his friend had been evident in Sakano’s voice.
“Why yes, I am.” K replied coldly. “Was there anything else?”
“N… no… But K...” Sakano had tried to say something else, to ask his friend what the matter was, but he was cut short harshly.
“Then leave me the fuck alone.” K had growled into the receiver and hung up, crawling back to the couch.
Another bottle of whiskey K had emptied during the day and another one just earlier. ‘Oh, and now this one...’ the blond man thought with no little amount of drunken, morbid satisfaction as he put the half empty bottle to his lips and drank.
"Cold, heartless bastard!"
Hiro’s words still echoed inside K’s head. He sank back down to curl up on the couch. “Fuck, yeah.” K slurred to the loneliness surrounding him. “An’s your fault.” He hiccoughed once more and tried to reach for the whiskey bottle, but it had rolled too far away from the couch. “Fuck…” K buried his face in his hands and murmured “Heartless, cause you took it with you… Cold, cause of the damn ice in your eyes when you… ‘hic’” But this time the hiccough wasn’t because K was drunk beyond drunk, but because the tears that he had tried so hard to suppress were finally breaking through the blond man’s alcohol-destroyed defences. “Cold, cause you hate me… Fuck you, Hiro…Love you…” He sobbed.
K wasn’t sure whether he’d been sleeping or just staring blankly at the ceiling, but he was brought back to his senses by the ringing of the doorbell. He ignored it at first, but as the person outside the door was obviously not planning on going away, but on making K’s harshly throbbing head split by ringing the doorbell again and again, K slowly picked himself up from the sofa and stumbled to the door of his apartment, cursing. “’M fuckin’ coming.” He slurred, finally reaching the door and leaning heavily against the frame for support as he opened it.
What K was greeted with was a very concerned and nervous-looking Sakano. K groaned and rolled his eyes, the action making him feel dizzy and nauseous. Fuck, he needed more drink.
“K…?” Sakano’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his friend. “Y…you look like hell.” The producer stated, clearly shocked. And K did look like hell. He’d not eaten in several days, alcohol being all he’d consumed. He looked thin and fragile, his hair not in the usually pony tail, but hanging loosely around his shoulders and in his face. Dark shadows had formed beneath K’s bloodshot eyes and Sakano could clearly smell how K and his whole living room reeked of alcohol.
“Thought I’d told you to leave me the hell alone.” K answered tiredly, dejectedly.
“Yes, but…” Sakano stuttered. “You sounded really bad on the phone and…” he wasn’t able to talk any further, because K reached for the gun that he always kept on the small table next to the front door and pointed it at his friend’s face. “Get out.” The manager growled. “Now.” Sakano gulped. Damn… what was he supposed to do? He wanted to help K badly, because clearly something was very seriously wrong, but he was also very aware of the fact that K was drunk out of his mind and less to be trusted with a gun than ever before. Nodding in defeat, Sakano took a few steps back. “Alright… But K, please don’t do anything crazy.” He moved further to the staircase leading to the ground floor. “I’ll be back.” Sakano called and ran.
K stared after his friend and shook his head before slamming the door shut and sliding to the floor against it. “Fuck, I know…” K slurred. “M pathetic… and cold…” He picked up the gun again and examined it for a long time, turning it over and over in his hand and soon the hand slumped limply to the floor and the impact made the gun slide some feet away. K’s eyes were slowly drooping. Damn, he felt so tired and empty, his limbs feeling heavy… as if he were slowly sinking… drowning. “Cold, heartless bastard…” was K’s last thought before he passed out.
Sakano sat at home in an armchair frantically dialling a number. Finally, after a time that had seemed to be way too long, a voice answered from the other end of the line.
“Ryuichi?” Sakano’s voice was as frantic as his dialling had been. “Yes, it’s Sakano. Meet me in my office at nine tomorrow, please, if you can. Something’s seriously wrong with K.”
A/N: Please review. I'm open to constructive criticism. Hope you enjoyed it. =^_^=
author/artist: xchristabelx
genre: angst,romance,drunkfic,hurt/comfort
word count and/or category: 1431 /multi-chaptered fic
rating: PG-13 to R up to now, will be NC-17 in further chapters
summary: K loves Hiro, but Hiro seems to hate K. Now Bad Luck are on their first big tour and K is falling apart.
warnings: A lot of alcohol, self-destructive K, cursing.
disclaimer: If I owned the boys, they'd be chained to my bed right now.
notes: My first Gravitation fic, so please bear with me. Also not beta read (don't have a beta for this fandom *pouts*). But I'll go over it again when it's not in the middle of the night anymore.
Enjoy.
Chapter 1
„What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hiro yelled right at K’s face, blue-grey eyes flashing in anger. “Of course Shuichi wants to be with Yuki. He’s in hospital! So cancel the bloody concert.” K backed up a bit and against the wall, taken aback by Hiro’s outburst. “The concert is in four hours.” He tried to reason with the guitarist. “We can’t cancel it now. It’s too late.”
“The hell it is.” Hiro was now really pissed off. Shuichi had been a mess since Yuki had been transported to hospital once more two days ago because of a break down caused by too much stress. “So, prepare for Shuichi not doing this damn show.” Hiro continued ranting at the blonde man. “You’re our manager, K, so go and manage that. It’s not all about profit and success, you cold, heartless bastard!” With those words Hiro had run off, leaving a stunned and secretly hurt K standing there to deal with the upcoming mess that would ensue after the cancelling of that night’s show and his own emotions.
That had been half a year ago and ever since then Hiro had been completely cold around K, so much that the manager was glad, even, when Hiro ignored him completely. Everything was better than having the man who you secretly loved so much that it hurt openly hate you, K thought as he sighed sadly. And now Bad Luck were on their first big tour and K felt every meter of distance that was between him and Hiro even more.
The blond manager turned over on his couch and stared around his darkened living room. He didn’t consciously know why he kept replaying that fight with Hiro in his mind, but he had the feeling that the words ‘cold, heartless bastard’ had something to do with it; even though K would never admit that they had hurt him more than he could explain.
K groped the floor along the side of the couch, looking for the whiskey bottle he had abandoned earlier when he had become too drunk to hold it all the time. He finally found it and picked it up, sitting up on the couch to take a long drink. Yes, that was definitely a lot better, K decided as the liquor burned down his throat, creating a momentary numb feeling. Then he lay back down and curled up on his side, hiccoughing miserably as he stared at the walls and around the room, at the mess on the floor where eight empty bottles already lay.
Eight bottles, two for every night Hiro had been gone on tour. But no, that wasn’t right, K thought. It had been one the first night and two the second. Another two the third and then… oh, yes. One from that morning…
K had passed out the night before, blissfully drunk out of his mind, but he hadn’t been able to sleep for long. Around 5 am he had woken up again, feeling the worst headache ever. And instead of being the rationally-thinking individual he usually was, K had not gone for a glass of water and some Aspirin, but had picked up the next bottle of liquor straight away, emptying it over the next few hours. Some time around nine, probably, his phone had rung and K had reluctantly rolled from the sofa and had stumbled to get the call.
“What?” the manager had growled into the receiver, not at all happy about his drunken self-pity being interrupted.
“Hello, K?” the voice had sounded from the other end of the line. “It’s Sakano.”
K sighed, annoyed. And he didn’t even try to suppress his occasional hiccoughs, too drunk to care. “Whad’ya want?” the manager had slurred which he also didn’t care to hide.
A sharp intake of breath could be heard from the phone. “Well, you haven’t been at the office for nearly four days and I was wondering… But goodness, K, are you drunk?” The concern for his friend had been evident in Sakano’s voice.
“Why yes, I am.” K replied coldly. “Was there anything else?”
“N… no… But K...” Sakano had tried to say something else, to ask his friend what the matter was, but he was cut short harshly.
“Then leave me the fuck alone.” K had growled into the receiver and hung up, crawling back to the couch.
Another bottle of whiskey K had emptied during the day and another one just earlier. ‘Oh, and now this one...’ the blond man thought with no little amount of drunken, morbid satisfaction as he put the half empty bottle to his lips and drank.
"Cold, heartless bastard!"
Hiro’s words still echoed inside K’s head. He sank back down to curl up on the couch. “Fuck, yeah.” K slurred to the loneliness surrounding him. “An’s your fault.” He hiccoughed once more and tried to reach for the whiskey bottle, but it had rolled too far away from the couch. “Fuck…” K buried his face in his hands and murmured “Heartless, cause you took it with you… Cold, cause of the damn ice in your eyes when you… ‘hic’” But this time the hiccough wasn’t because K was drunk beyond drunk, but because the tears that he had tried so hard to suppress were finally breaking through the blond man’s alcohol-destroyed defences. “Cold, cause you hate me… Fuck you, Hiro…Love you…” He sobbed.
K wasn’t sure whether he’d been sleeping or just staring blankly at the ceiling, but he was brought back to his senses by the ringing of the doorbell. He ignored it at first, but as the person outside the door was obviously not planning on going away, but on making K’s harshly throbbing head split by ringing the doorbell again and again, K slowly picked himself up from the sofa and stumbled to the door of his apartment, cursing. “’M fuckin’ coming.” He slurred, finally reaching the door and leaning heavily against the frame for support as he opened it.
What K was greeted with was a very concerned and nervous-looking Sakano. K groaned and rolled his eyes, the action making him feel dizzy and nauseous. Fuck, he needed more drink.
“K…?” Sakano’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his friend. “Y…you look like hell.” The producer stated, clearly shocked. And K did look like hell. He’d not eaten in several days, alcohol being all he’d consumed. He looked thin and fragile, his hair not in the usually pony tail, but hanging loosely around his shoulders and in his face. Dark shadows had formed beneath K’s bloodshot eyes and Sakano could clearly smell how K and his whole living room reeked of alcohol.
“Thought I’d told you to leave me the hell alone.” K answered tiredly, dejectedly.
“Yes, but…” Sakano stuttered. “You sounded really bad on the phone and…” he wasn’t able to talk any further, because K reached for the gun that he always kept on the small table next to the front door and pointed it at his friend’s face. “Get out.” The manager growled. “Now.” Sakano gulped. Damn… what was he supposed to do? He wanted to help K badly, because clearly something was very seriously wrong, but he was also very aware of the fact that K was drunk out of his mind and less to be trusted with a gun than ever before. Nodding in defeat, Sakano took a few steps back. “Alright… But K, please don’t do anything crazy.” He moved further to the staircase leading to the ground floor. “I’ll be back.” Sakano called and ran.
K stared after his friend and shook his head before slamming the door shut and sliding to the floor against it. “Fuck, I know…” K slurred. “M pathetic… and cold…” He picked up the gun again and examined it for a long time, turning it over and over in his hand and soon the hand slumped limply to the floor and the impact made the gun slide some feet away. K’s eyes were slowly drooping. Damn, he felt so tired and empty, his limbs feeling heavy… as if he were slowly sinking… drowning. “Cold, heartless bastard…” was K’s last thought before he passed out.
Sakano sat at home in an armchair frantically dialling a number. Finally, after a time that had seemed to be way too long, a voice answered from the other end of the line.
“Ryuichi?” Sakano’s voice was as frantic as his dialling had been. “Yes, it’s Sakano. Meet me in my office at nine tomorrow, please, if you can. Something’s seriously wrong with K.”
A/N: Please review. I'm open to constructive criticism. Hope you enjoyed it. =^_^=