Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #14: Trees
Title: Names Meaning Nothing
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #14 - Trees
Rating: PG
Summary: Actually, history rarely repeats iself. Mostly it's just forgotten.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.
They were on a first-name basis now. Although, if Yuku's memory was intact-and it was much more intact than Meki's, which wasn't there at all-they always had been. Of course, at the time, it had been mostly because Meki couldn't pronounce Mac an Déisigh.
Currently Meki was sitting on top of a tree branch. Yuku wasn't sure how sane he looked, standing near a man of twenty-seven who happened to be sitting in a tree. Then again, he wasn't sure how sane it looked to be standing near Meki in general, who had apparently not slept much this week. His hair was messy and bits of it were clamped out of his face with girlish hairclips. There were large black circles beneath his eyes and his shirt was on backwards.
When Yuku had asked him about this outside the library, Meki had shrugged quite cheerfully and said, "Deadline," and left it at that.
"Hey. What do you think would happen if the bird that lives in this nest came back? D'you think she'd attack me?" Meki asked absently, poking at the nest of eggs beside him in a most disrespectful fashion.
Yuku glanced up from his book and raised his eyebrows. "If you keep poking at her nest like that, you may be killed and fed to her young, yes. Would you get out of that tree?"
Meki grinned down at him. "Why? This is a great tree. It has nests, Yuku! With eggs!"
Meki had the excitement at this prospect of a small child. Or someone who needed less deadline, more sleep, Yuku thought wryly.
"I would so be at the top of this thing if I didn't care so much about not re-breaking my leg."
"Re-break," Yuku repeated faintly, turning his eyes back to the pages of the book without reading it.
"I think," Meki said, gazing up at the higher branches and fingering the leaves, "I've broken it twice in the past."
If another person had started that sentence with 'I think', they would've meant they think it had been twice, but they weren't sure. Yuku, knowing Meki as he was now, took it as 'I think it's been broken before, and I think it's been twice, but I don't really know anymore.' Incidentally, the last time Meki's leg had been broken, it had been spring, and it hadn't been too far from this town.
Maybe, if Yuku dragged him to that place now, he'd be more willing to remember him.
Yuku closed his book. "You were very reckless." Meki would hear that as a question, and not a nostalgic remark.
"Something like that," Meki said. Yuku thought he saw Meki frown at him as he said that, but in the time he took to blink, Meki was reaching down for the book. Yuku handed it to him obligingly.
Meki stared at the cover and title. It was a new-looking book with a shiny jacket and smooth pages. "You read surrealist fiction," he commented, steadying himself on the branch with one hand. His face was oddly pale, and Yuku knew exactly why.
"Not often. Just. This particular author," Yuku said slowly. He hadn't been reading that book deliberately. It had come out last week, and he'd gotten his hands on it yesterday and wanted to finish it. It hadn't exactly occurred to him Meki would see it. Not in his conscious mind, anyway. "I, uh. I haven't finished reading it."
Meki dropped the book back to him, looking now amused. "I have. That makes you one of around five hundred people who ever will, and that number includes me." He leaned down over Yuku's shoulder, smiling brightly. "Except I wrote it, so I don't count."
Aha. Here was an example of how Meki's memory worked. It would completely disregard who Yuku was and who Meki was and what had been, but it didn't stop Meki from offering information to Yuku that would not, and had never, been given to anyone else.
Except maybe, if Meki was still in contact with her, if she hadn't died yet, Raizu.
Meki now looked back at the tree and made his way to a higher branch. The leaves there partially obscured his face.
"It's a good book," Yuku said mildly. The air was becoming a little cooler, the sun a little dimmer.
"I should hope so. I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than romance novels," Meki said, chuckling.
"It's a much better genre, anyway," Yuku said, and then, realizing how high up Meki was, "You're never going to be able to get out of that tree, m-" His sentence sounded cut off and abrupt at the easily unnoticed syllable of a nickname that had been in use many years ago. Suddenly he appreciated how he couldn't see Meki's face. If Meki had actually noticed that, well-maybe Yuku didn't want that.
"Are you kidding? If I got up here, I can get back down," Meki said obliviously, using the logic of someone who was completely and totally illogical.
"Alive?"
"Absolutely," Meki said, but he had now shifted his position to look at the ground. "Alive." He had a tone that suggested he wanted to smack himself for having climbed the tree in the first place. "Um."
"Look," Yuku said, stepping away from the tree and opening his book again, like he didn't really care. "If you can get down from that tree entirely unharmed, I will make you dinner."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
There was a startlingly loud thump, and Yuku looked up over his book in surprise in time to see Meki stand up, wiping his hands off on his sweater and sticking them in his pockets. He grinned.
Yuku stared at him incredulously.
"I can't cook," Meki said matter-of-factly, taking Yuku's arm and leading him back to the street.
"You are ridiculous."
"And you are a fantastic cook."
Neither of them questioned how Meki knew this. It didn't mean anything to Meki, not on seventy-two hours of sleep deprivation. In fact, if Meki weren't tired and strange right now, he might not even have said it.
Yuku took a deep breath as they walked. They were on a first-name basis, but barely, and while Yuku had waited for things like that alone since the first time Meki wandered into the library after Yuku had returned to Minami-ku, it still didn't mean what it should've or what it had, and at this rate, Yuku would never know why.
Yuku would wait. Anyway, someone had to notice something was off about Meki sooner or later. Surely his publisher had noticed. Then again, that guy had never cared much what went on with Meki as long as he didn't die or stop writing.
Still, it couldn't last forever.
Meki was now taking some of the clips out of his hair and rubbing at his head like it ached. "My editor got pissed at my hair being in my face and shoved these into it. I really wish she hadn't. She's kind of a bitch." Cheerfully.
"Don't worry. They weren't very attractive," Yuku said.
Of course, Yuku assured himself, if it could, in fact, last forever, well, they had a few more thousand years (whether Meki knew that or not) at least, and he would wait that long.
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #14 - Trees
Rating: PG
Summary: Actually, history rarely repeats iself. Mostly it's just forgotten.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.
They were on a first-name basis now. Although, if Yuku's memory was intact-and it was much more intact than Meki's, which wasn't there at all-they always had been. Of course, at the time, it had been mostly because Meki couldn't pronounce Mac an Déisigh.
Currently Meki was sitting on top of a tree branch. Yuku wasn't sure how sane he looked, standing near a man of twenty-seven who happened to be sitting in a tree. Then again, he wasn't sure how sane it looked to be standing near Meki in general, who had apparently not slept much this week. His hair was messy and bits of it were clamped out of his face with girlish hairclips. There were large black circles beneath his eyes and his shirt was on backwards.
When Yuku had asked him about this outside the library, Meki had shrugged quite cheerfully and said, "Deadline," and left it at that.
"Hey. What do you think would happen if the bird that lives in this nest came back? D'you think she'd attack me?" Meki asked absently, poking at the nest of eggs beside him in a most disrespectful fashion.
Yuku glanced up from his book and raised his eyebrows. "If you keep poking at her nest like that, you may be killed and fed to her young, yes. Would you get out of that tree?"
Meki grinned down at him. "Why? This is a great tree. It has nests, Yuku! With eggs!"
Meki had the excitement at this prospect of a small child. Or someone who needed less deadline, more sleep, Yuku thought wryly.
"I would so be at the top of this thing if I didn't care so much about not re-breaking my leg."
"Re-break," Yuku repeated faintly, turning his eyes back to the pages of the book without reading it.
"I think," Meki said, gazing up at the higher branches and fingering the leaves, "I've broken it twice in the past."
If another person had started that sentence with 'I think', they would've meant they think it had been twice, but they weren't sure. Yuku, knowing Meki as he was now, took it as 'I think it's been broken before, and I think it's been twice, but I don't really know anymore.' Incidentally, the last time Meki's leg had been broken, it had been spring, and it hadn't been too far from this town.
Maybe, if Yuku dragged him to that place now, he'd be more willing to remember him.
Yuku closed his book. "You were very reckless." Meki would hear that as a question, and not a nostalgic remark.
"Something like that," Meki said. Yuku thought he saw Meki frown at him as he said that, but in the time he took to blink, Meki was reaching down for the book. Yuku handed it to him obligingly.
Meki stared at the cover and title. It was a new-looking book with a shiny jacket and smooth pages. "You read surrealist fiction," he commented, steadying himself on the branch with one hand. His face was oddly pale, and Yuku knew exactly why.
"Not often. Just. This particular author," Yuku said slowly. He hadn't been reading that book deliberately. It had come out last week, and he'd gotten his hands on it yesterday and wanted to finish it. It hadn't exactly occurred to him Meki would see it. Not in his conscious mind, anyway. "I, uh. I haven't finished reading it."
Meki dropped the book back to him, looking now amused. "I have. That makes you one of around five hundred people who ever will, and that number includes me." He leaned down over Yuku's shoulder, smiling brightly. "Except I wrote it, so I don't count."
Aha. Here was an example of how Meki's memory worked. It would completely disregard who Yuku was and who Meki was and what had been, but it didn't stop Meki from offering information to Yuku that would not, and had never, been given to anyone else.
Except maybe, if Meki was still in contact with her, if she hadn't died yet, Raizu.
Meki now looked back at the tree and made his way to a higher branch. The leaves there partially obscured his face.
"It's a good book," Yuku said mildly. The air was becoming a little cooler, the sun a little dimmer.
"I should hope so. I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than romance novels," Meki said, chuckling.
"It's a much better genre, anyway," Yuku said, and then, realizing how high up Meki was, "You're never going to be able to get out of that tree, m-" His sentence sounded cut off and abrupt at the easily unnoticed syllable of a nickname that had been in use many years ago. Suddenly he appreciated how he couldn't see Meki's face. If Meki had actually noticed that, well-maybe Yuku didn't want that.
"Are you kidding? If I got up here, I can get back down," Meki said obliviously, using the logic of someone who was completely and totally illogical.
"Alive?"
"Absolutely," Meki said, but he had now shifted his position to look at the ground. "Alive." He had a tone that suggested he wanted to smack himself for having climbed the tree in the first place. "Um."
"Look," Yuku said, stepping away from the tree and opening his book again, like he didn't really care. "If you can get down from that tree entirely unharmed, I will make you dinner."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
There was a startlingly loud thump, and Yuku looked up over his book in surprise in time to see Meki stand up, wiping his hands off on his sweater and sticking them in his pockets. He grinned.
Yuku stared at him incredulously.
"I can't cook," Meki said matter-of-factly, taking Yuku's arm and leading him back to the street.
"You are ridiculous."
"And you are a fantastic cook."
Neither of them questioned how Meki knew this. It didn't mean anything to Meki, not on seventy-two hours of sleep deprivation. In fact, if Meki weren't tired and strange right now, he might not even have said it.
Yuku took a deep breath as they walked. They were on a first-name basis, but barely, and while Yuku had waited for things like that alone since the first time Meki wandered into the library after Yuku had returned to Minami-ku, it still didn't mean what it should've or what it had, and at this rate, Yuku would never know why.
Yuku would wait. Anyway, someone had to notice something was off about Meki sooner or later. Surely his publisher had noticed. Then again, that guy had never cared much what went on with Meki as long as he didn't die or stop writing.
Still, it couldn't last forever.
Meki was now taking some of the clips out of his hair and rubbing at his head like it ached. "My editor got pissed at my hair being in my face and shoved these into it. I really wish she hadn't. She's kind of a bitch." Cheerfully.
"Don't worry. They weren't very attractive," Yuku said.
Of course, Yuku assured himself, if it could, in fact, last forever, well, they had a few more thousand years (whether Meki knew that or not) at least, and he would wait that long.