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Post by tearing on Oct 5, 2012 15:17:19 GMT -5
masterlist
welcome to my sob corner. here is a list of drabbles i will post, complete with direct link, so please do drop a comment to make sure i'm not doing everything completely wrong.
twelve past midnight, for mori.
homeward, for snow.
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Post by tearing on Oct 5, 2012 15:18:01 GMT -5
twelve past midnight, vivamu.
"You're always talking about how you sweep girls off their feet." That line of conversation seemed to come out of nowhere, and the displeasure between the two seemed to be drifting out to sea.
Pale, slim hands scratched the back of his head. Perhaps he really was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "And you never quit being a bitch. What's new?"
Amunet found it strange how Vivien was staring at something that was real for a change. Curling a strand of hair, eyes dropping slightly, her voice betrayed a weakness that was louder than anything Vivien had ever had to listen to.
He swallowed the words down his throat.
"So... if you were trying to sweep a girl off her feet, what would you do? Hm?"
"...That one's easy. Watch the stars, catch a late night movie... wine and dine her, s'uppose." It seemed to surprise Amunet that Vivien actually gave her a straight answer for once.
"What if... it was me then?"
"You? You're surely getting arrogant these days, Nepthy." A sigh, but it was more of fatigue than of distaste. "I'd... take you to see the jellyfish."
That seemed to have caught her interest. "Jellyfish?"
"What's wrong with jellyfish? In the tanks of the aquarium, I never seem to be able to touch them. They're so pretty, but all I can do is just watch them drift further and further away from me."
Perhaps Amunet would have interjected with something light-hearted and slightly insulting, but she drank in the moment of silence instead.
"...I'd go with you. If you'd ask me."
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Post by tearing on Oct 6, 2012 6:32:37 GMT -5
homeward, young!ric&mimi.
Mimi wasn't crying. Of course she wasn't. Mouthing the Italian words as they slurred out sloppily, Riccardo knelt before her, eyes sympathetic, petting her head hesitantly.
Drops of liquid fell onto the sandpit, and it was not raining. But still, just as Mimi insisted over and over again, she was not crying. Riccardo nodded, a kind smile spreading across his lips.
"Shush now, Mimi. You're not crying. Of course you aren't." Her beautiful blonde hair was in tatters and caked in sand and dirt. Riccardo's little heart ached, but his smile did not falter.
Turning around and showing his back to her, there was a kind of sentiment in the air that didn't need words to confirm. "Let's go home, Mimi."
"I don't wanna." Mimi managed out in between sobs. Riccardo bit his lip. As a boy, he had his pride, so it wasn't hard to guess that Mimi had her own brand of pride also.
"It'll be okay, Mimi. You have your fratello, after all! I'll always be here for you." Riccardo nodded even though he was facing away from her, still waiting.
Hesitantly, the younger twin climbed on her brother, as Riccardo stood up, trying to achieve a balance with the extra weight on top of him. Holding her legs in place firmly, the young boy ignored the wet feeling on his shoulder and concentrated each heavy step forward, ignoring his bodyguard, who watched from afar, knowing very well Riccardo would not tolerate interference.
It didn't take long for Mimi to fall asleep under the warm sunshine.
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Post by tearing on Oct 7, 2012 18:01:52 GMT -5
more than words, nev&viv.
Vivien wakes up with a scream almost escaping from his thin lips. He covers his mouth instead, as if he has just witnessed something revolting in nature. Coughing, he clutches his stomach and stares at the soulless photos that look back at him, watching a blonde boy smile that smile that makes him look like... looks like...
Jumping in a start, he leaves the comfort of his bed and shivers in the winter cold, but Vivien doesn't stop as he quietly pushes the next bedroom's door open. It is in that moment does time suspend in mid air and Vivien involuntarily holds his breath.
Only to exhale in relief. Nev is not the one doing the stirring. With each cautious step forward with his bare feet, Vivien kneels in front of the older boy's sleeping face as his eyes narrow.
He attempts to reach him approximately three and a half times, with each time ending in failure. His fourth attempt is a gentle sweep of stray hair that covers his closed eyes.
Vivien dreams more frequently during recent times. Of course, most of the time they are abstract and don't make much sense even to the most perceptive of eyes, but most of them share a common theme.
A young hand reaching into the empty darkness. That hand is his, and he knows it. What he is reaching for - well, he knows that too.
Usually his dreams are accompanied with some description of a pathetic wail, and a strangled sob. Years of pent up emotion and bottled up words all released at once, and it hurts his ears.
If they were nine years younger, Vivien would have been curled up beside Nevi, as they slept the nightmares away.
If he didn't know better, his lips would have touched his a long time ago.
But he is his sun, and the moon can never reach the sun. It is written in his destiny to always stand and watch him move on.
Vivien's exit is careless and sloppy, and the panic does not quite reach him when the floor creaks under his feet.
His sleeve is wet. His heart is dry. Cold, cool, and dry.
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Post by tearing on Oct 18, 2012 13:47:09 GMT -5
unspoken, tyl!vivamu.
notes, too busy to post, so i decided to write something quick. this probably has a second part. who knows. :c
Vivien had always been unpredictable. Tell him and he would give you a weird look but a very subtle hint of a smirk. To say he marveled in it was a half lie, because liked the idea of it more than he let on. Over time though, not only did he grow taller then stop growing altogether, he cared little for the tiny thoughts that would usually manifest and spread in his mind and did things more on impulse.
Which was exactly why he was standing there, holding the hand of a little girl, black trench with a sleek suit underneath, making Amunet's head spin and causing trouble just like the old days.
Everyone knew he should not be there. He wasn't exactly... welcome company. Vivien could disarm a gun in less than three seconds, he wasn't exactly the stupid sort.
He was late. Which was one thing, as he walked into the chapel during the vows shared by the girl he once knew and a guy who was completely her type. Vivien took a seat near the front, nonchalantly, even hushing his excited little girl so that the procedure could continue.
Hands clapped out of tune with the others, and Vivien couldn't bear but look away when the two sealed their vows with a kiss from a fairy tale. Did she ever grow out of those ideals? He'd think it would be better that way though; Vivien was no prince on a white horse.
"This, Abrielle, is a wedding." Vivien ran his fingers through the young girl's dirty golden locks, and she squirmed in his hold. "Isn't the bride pretty, hm?" The bride in question had long since moved onto the reception, yet Vivien made no move.
"Abrielle see! Abri-elle see!" She clapped her hands, and Vivien placed her onto the floor safely.
"Me too. Papa wants to see the bride too."
He stared at the altar as if in a trance. His heart broke sweetly, but it was not without pain. It crackled, numbed, and burned.
Swallowing the stone in his throat, it was as if it all came back to haunt him. The smell of her hair. The color of her laughter. Her stupidity. Her strength.
Waiting for him was akin to leaving a sandcastle by the coast. There was no point. No point at all.
"Amunet." A whisper, a soft murmur, in an empty room. As if she knew, Abrielle strengthened her hold around her father's hand.
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Post by tearing on Nov 13, 2012 18:13:09 GMT -5
black stars and quiet fireworks, nev/kotori.
Kotori didn't think the damned foreigner would ever let go of that bright blonde mop of hair that people said showed 'royalty' and 'wealth'. Why would someone loaded with money let such an obvious sign of wealth slip out of their fingers, anyway?
But damn. You learned something new every day, right?
And on this day, this hour, this moment, Kagetsu Kotori learnt something very shocking indeed.
"Whatcha lookin' at, Uccellino?" A mischievous grin flashed on the ex-blond's face. Kotori could only look at him square in the eye and try not to physically tear that smugness away from flesh and bone.
Better luck next time, eh, Kotori.
Nope, scrap the earliest assumptions. Nevi Ferravia wasn't replaced with a replica that didn't do a good job mimicking hair colour. Only the annoying Italian was capable of creating such a unique and flavorsome deteste inside of her. Deciding this strangely was a comfort to her.
"...Nothing, Ferravia-kun. I just... I was surprised, please allow me to correct myself, that you have decided to come into school without your usual... colours." Ugh, why was she so lost for words? Pressing her lips tighter, and nearly muttering a quick goodbye in order to make her escape, of course he had to interject.
"Ahahaha, dio, dio, you mean my hair, yeah?" The way he ruffled his now dark black hair was similar to peacocks flaunting their feathers in order to attract a mate. Unfortunately, Kotori wasn't interested. "Thanks, Tori! I knew you'd like it!"
Then he smiled. A smile with a kind of subtle undertone she had never seen before.
Dipping her head slightly and looking away, Kotori muttered a farewell before quickly covering her face with her hand.
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Post by tearing on Nov 17, 2012 18:31:57 GMT -5
black sheep, yuuhei&jiayi.
A deep, even inhale, a soft, inaudible exhale; Yuuhei's eyelids then flickered like dying streetlights. It took a moment for him to make sense of his surroundings and explain the cold chill that ran down his spine, but he managed to pull himself to his feet. Tasting the stale air with another sharp intake of breath, it hitched, as he squinted to try and make out objects close to him. Walking backwards with a small hope he wouldn't run into anything dangerous, relief rushed through him as he felt a wall behind him.
As if that was some kind of trigger of events, the moonlight seeped into the room, illuminating the abandoned classroom the blue haired teen found himself in. From his usual neutral expression, a look of confusion then washed over his face.
Why was the classroom in such a mess? Did the commoner janitors revolt during the night? Commoners broke in and started looting? Ah, no, no, that wouldn't explain the pool of blood by the desk-
Wait. Wait wha-
By this time, a number of events simultaneously occurred. Yuuhei managed to shift himself to the back of the classroom so he could leave via the nearest exit because he didn't want to be at a scene of crime, but something slowed his progress. More accurately speaking, this odd feeling of unease, and those sets of glowing emerald eyes.
Digging his nails into the palm of his hand, the boy swallowed in attempt to wet his dry throat. Was someone expecting him to clean up after the janitors? Wait, that wasn't his job-
A sudden ear piercing crash penetrated through the heavy air, followed by a string of incomprehensible words. Covering his eyes yet keeping his eyes open, a different figure invited itself into Yuuhei's classroom.
...This felt like nothing short of deja vu.
The stranger jumped on top of a flipped table, swinging a thin sword around as if it was nothing but a cheap toy.
"Come on Foo Foo, you can do better!" Taunted the long haired maiden as she jumped onto a different table because she irresponsibly allowed the weapon to slice through the previous one. As much as Yuuhei would have wanted to scold her for damaging school property and playing with sharp objects, perhaps it would not be a good time.
...If he could get out of here himself, then maybe he could make sense of the situation. But as Foo Foo took center stage, he changed his mind.
A drooling zombie with purple hair and green eyes staggered inside, giving Yuuehi a look before heading his way, seemingly uninterested in the sword welding female.
"Foo Foo Cuddly Pups! Over here baby!" Waving her sword instead of her extended arm, smiling so bright it could have lighted up the whole room. In fact, she looked far too calm. Quickly Yuuhei moved out of the way, trying to maintain a suitable distance away from the zombie creature.
"Aw, why are you so cold? Mou, mou, I only wanted to get to know you!" She ran effortlessly down the small hill of desks and reached the zombie's back, plunging her sword through its chest. Looking away and pressing the back of her free hand on her forehead, a sigh escaped her lips.
"Foo Foo, it was good meeting you, but you know, you broke the rules! You went after a boy! Poor boy!" Shaking her head sadly, a hand reached to grab the handle of the sword and pull it out of the now lifeless body.
Turning to Yuuhei who was nearly half out of the door, he saw enough to see her face twist into a look of alarm. "Please wai-"
Squinting at the crouching familiar first year girl, Yuuhei stared longer than he usually would have. The girl in question was messing around with a sugar loaded slice of strawberry cheesecake. Yuuhei could almost taste the heavy sugar on his tongue, and it was unpleasant.
Whenever she looked up, he would resign to rereading the first sentence of the same page over again.
"Ne, Senpai." A crisp, clear, yet sugary voice came from the short Chinese girl. "I had a funny dream last night."
"Hm." I dreamt about you. It was weirder. But of course he didn't say that. Ridiculous. "Do you like long hair?"
Obviously surprised and happy that Yuuhei wasn't acting like he usually was, Jiayi smiled brightly. "Jiayi... used to have long hair."
The edges of Yuuhei's mouth almost twisted into a frown.
"But you know, you know, my dream! I dreamt that... A magical boy with bright blue hair saved Tokyo from destruction!" With that, Jiayi pressed the piece of cake on her fork so close to Yuuhei's lips they were kissing.
"Open up! I'll tell you all about that story!"
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Post by tearing on Nov 18, 2012 12:15:39 GMT -5
rosemary, character study.
Her dreams belong in scenes from fairy tales, not gritty nightmares. Ayumi had always hoped, and wished for something more than this. A certain wholeness that could complete the gaping hole in her metaphoric heart. She had always been soulless, searching endlessly for a foreign object. Often she would wonder what it looked like, the plug to her heart, and more often than not she would end up expanding that hole instead of patching it.
Staring at the ceiling with the skies, her fingers touched mimicked her last lover's caress, taking care not to touch those lines. Yumi did not want to think about those filthy marks.
She warms up her palms with warm breath. With her footsteps ceased, the heel of her shoe dug into the thin ice under the soles of her shoes. Dull, violet eyes looked down as her now cold hands twirled a strand of hair belonging to her fringe. Skin bitter, but still pale, Ayumi had always been the subject of petty jealousy. You'd like to think you know her well, but sometimes it feels as if the girl standing before you is nothing but a stranger, but that's how it always is; people always surprise you.
There is no one as surprising as Ayumi Serizawa. She was the accidental spread of ink, the remainder of a poorly ripped page, and half empty cold coffee. Wild even in her silence, unpredictable and always, always two steps ahead.
"What were you doing? Do hurry, I'm gonna freeze to death." Her polite tone was far cooler than the dropping temperature. She licks her dry lips but does not look back. Her numb hands make sure the loosened scarf is tight around her next. She doesn't want to think about ugly lines, no, not today.
You shuffle your feet awkwardly because you know she's in one of her funny moods, you've experienced it. Why she is willing to share such intimate moments with you, you're not quite sure. Because even though people still pass her by, it feels as if there's no one else in this corner of the world but you and her.
Your sigh materializes into a cloud of dusty warmth.
It is then she looks at you, even though you're only one step behind her, beside her.
She looks as if she wants to tell you everything but as usual, she says nothing. Nothing. There is nothing to respond to.
Her mouth almost forms words but she blinks instead, and she wonders whether or not the hole has gotten bigger. The hole has taken your words hostage.
"Give it back, give it back..." She mumbles as she walks on ahead, and you try to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand.
Her hands are cold, but she's warm. She's always warm.
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