yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2011-01-13 07:15 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2011-01-13 07:15 pm
Entry tags:
218;
Title: every smile you ever gave me, i saved in my heart in a folder signed 'read me'
Characters: Koichi, Raimei
Rating: G
For reference, this is an amaryllis. In the language of flowers, they mean 'pride' and 'timidity', which if you think about it are quite conflicting, aren't they?
It's times like these when Koichi wishes that the two of them were normal - a normal boy and a normal girl. Not an immortal, not a shinobi, nothing like that; just normal. Surface world, even, just innocents on the Front World, knowing nothing of Nabari. It makes looking at her train difficult to know that she might die one day - hopefully, he thinks, he'll have that pleasure too - but in truth, he fears for her. For that straight-forward, rough attitude to just suddenly vanish one day, right out of his life--
He fingers grip the stems of red amaryllis he had sought to obtain tightly, and he has to force himself to loosen them when he realizes that they're fragile, that if he squeezed too hard, they might break. When he smiles and gives her the bouquet, a wide variety of emotions cross her face (and he knows she doesn't know the language of flowers, and he's both disappointed and happy at the fact), until finally, she breathes them in and releases, in an exhale,
"They're beautiful, Koichi."
and the world crashes down, glass from a broken window pane spilling across cracked marble floors and shattered vases, chrysanthemums strewn about as if a whirlwind had picked them and left the petals to be plucked, one by one, in a childish game of love. He can tell from her tone that, even though she does think they're pretty - even though they're kind of big, especially all grouped together with a childish red string (and he's heard stories about that, too, the 'red string of fate' that 'tied you and another person together for eternity') - she doesn't want to dance with him, so to speak. Even smiles, though, that great, big, cheerful smile he's come to love on her, and holds the flowers close to her heart and maybe, you know, maybe she does really like them, and maybe she'll dance with him after she's finished training.
He entertains that thought, that little hope, but lets it go in the end because he's seen the way she looks at Miharu and, well, he doesn't know if she feels the way about Miharu the way he, Koichi, feels about her, but it isn't too bad of a possibility to think it so, and Koichi Aizawa has always thought of the possibilities.
Characters: Koichi, Raimei
Rating: G
For reference, this is an amaryllis. In the language of flowers, they mean 'pride' and 'timidity', which if you think about it are quite conflicting, aren't they?
It's times like these when Koichi wishes that the two of them were normal - a normal boy and a normal girl. Not an immortal, not a shinobi, nothing like that; just normal. Surface world, even, just innocents on the Front World, knowing nothing of Nabari. It makes looking at her train difficult to know that she might die one day - hopefully, he thinks, he'll have that pleasure too - but in truth, he fears for her. For that straight-forward, rough attitude to just suddenly vanish one day, right out of his life--
He fingers grip the stems of red amaryllis he had sought to obtain tightly, and he has to force himself to loosen them when he realizes that they're fragile, that if he squeezed too hard, they might break. When he smiles and gives her the bouquet, a wide variety of emotions cross her face (and he knows she doesn't know the language of flowers, and he's both disappointed and happy at the fact), until finally, she breathes them in and releases, in an exhale,
"They're beautiful, Koichi."
and the world crashes down, glass from a broken window pane spilling across cracked marble floors and shattered vases, chrysanthemums strewn about as if a whirlwind had picked them and left the petals to be plucked, one by one, in a childish game of love. He can tell from her tone that, even though she does think they're pretty - even though they're kind of big, especially all grouped together with a childish red string (and he's heard stories about that, too, the 'red string of fate' that 'tied you and another person together for eternity') - she doesn't want to dance with him, so to speak. Even smiles, though, that great, big, cheerful smile he's come to love on her, and holds the flowers close to her heart and maybe, you know, maybe she does really like them, and maybe she'll dance with him after she's finished training.
He entertains that thought, that little hope, but lets it go in the end because he's seen the way she looks at Miharu and, well, he doesn't know if she feels the way about Miharu the way he, Koichi, feels about her, but it isn't too bad of a possibility to think it so, and Koichi Aizawa has always thought of the possibilities.