[fic] Paper Whispers - 1/1 - Nightmare - RuSaki
Little Earthquakes, Part 02/25
Chapter Title: Paper Whispers
Author: kupipuu_x
Theme: II.02 Origami
Claim: Sakito (Nightmare)
Pairing(s): Ruka x Sakito
Genre: romance
Warnings: sap
Summary: ...the windows open and the gauzy thin drapes rolling in the gentle, prophetic wind.
Comments: My thing is moments in time... small scenes in life, a sampling of bliss or misery, a taste of things. Unlike my previous RuSaki, this kind of piece is more along the lines of what I normally write. I do not expect to get comments, this piece is for me... and that typically means no one cares for it. XD So don't feel obligated.
II.01 Butterfly
The morning's sticky, humid, forecasting an early morning storm. That's something that's special about summer, the windows open and the gauzy thin drapes rolling in the gentle, prophetic wind.
You can hear it, feel it on your skin.
In the distance the thunder picks up. It rumbles across the cityscape and in through the open window; but it's not the thunder that wakes him.
It's something soft, gentle-like, a tender kiss of sound. Breathy, like whispers in the dim light of morning, airy brushing sounds. There's something special in all of it: the delicate pressure, the intermittent hiss of sound.
Perhaps it's the soft crinkling of paper... or some deeper feeling... the absence of the other's presence? Odd that. A sense of foreboding.
The body on the bed begins to stir, the gentle whispers pulling him from light sleep. The soft rumbling of thunder in the distance continues. "Ruka?" the brunet murmurs, voice gritty with sleep as he searches the cooling sheets.
"Over here," the blond's quiet voice, edging out of the morning darkness, the whispering sound still breathing into the air.
The older man watches as the guitarist turns toward him, body arching as he stretches out his sleep taut muscles; a dirty smile creeping across his lips. "You do that on purpose," he says softly to the other man.
"What are you doing over there?" the younger bemoans in petulant sleepiness, pouting as he spies his lover across the room.
Ruka chuckles, enjoying 'Morning Saki' as he has in past days dubbed the poise-less person before him -- for certainly, Sakito when fully awake would never allow himself to appear childish and petulant, heavens forfend.
Another whisper and Sakito squints to see what it could be that was making the soft but annoying sound, feeling all to like a spoilt child denied his favorite toy. In a fluid, but lanky movement, Ruka is out of the chair and kneeling before the younger man, his palm open, a delicate paper rose in displayed by long slim fingers.
The delicate, pearly paper had been creased carefully, not a wrong fold marring the exquisite construction. In the center of the small opus, honeyed eyes pause, widening as they encounter a thin antiqued silver band, delicate carvings just as exquisite as the paper rose.
A smile eases the older musician's features as he watches astonishment light the younger's features. "Happy anniversary, Saki."
Chapter Title: Paper Whispers
Author: kupipuu_x
Theme: II.02 Origami
Claim: Sakito (Nightmare)
Pairing(s): Ruka x Sakito
Genre: romance
Warnings: sap
Summary: ...the windows open and the gauzy thin drapes rolling in the gentle, prophetic wind.
Comments: My thing is moments in time... small scenes in life, a sampling of bliss or misery, a taste of things. Unlike my previous RuSaki, this kind of piece is more along the lines of what I normally write. I do not expect to get comments, this piece is for me... and that typically means no one cares for it. XD So don't feel obligated.
II.01 Butterfly
The morning's sticky, humid, forecasting an early morning storm. That's something that's special about summer, the windows open and the gauzy thin drapes rolling in the gentle, prophetic wind.
You can hear it, feel it on your skin.
In the distance the thunder picks up. It rumbles across the cityscape and in through the open window; but it's not the thunder that wakes him.
It's something soft, gentle-like, a tender kiss of sound. Breathy, like whispers in the dim light of morning, airy brushing sounds. There's something special in all of it: the delicate pressure, the intermittent hiss of sound.
Perhaps it's the soft crinkling of paper... or some deeper feeling... the absence of the other's presence? Odd that. A sense of foreboding.
The body on the bed begins to stir, the gentle whispers pulling him from light sleep. The soft rumbling of thunder in the distance continues. "Ruka?" the brunet murmurs, voice gritty with sleep as he searches the cooling sheets.
"Over here," the blond's quiet voice, edging out of the morning darkness, the whispering sound still breathing into the air.
The older man watches as the guitarist turns toward him, body arching as he stretches out his sleep taut muscles; a dirty smile creeping across his lips. "You do that on purpose," he says softly to the other man.
"What are you doing over there?" the younger bemoans in petulant sleepiness, pouting as he spies his lover across the room.
Ruka chuckles, enjoying 'Morning Saki' as he has in past days dubbed the poise-less person before him -- for certainly, Sakito when fully awake would never allow himself to appear childish and petulant, heavens forfend.
Another whisper and Sakito squints to see what it could be that was making the soft but annoying sound, feeling all to like a spoilt child denied his favorite toy. In a fluid, but lanky movement, Ruka is out of the chair and kneeling before the younger man, his palm open, a delicate paper rose in displayed by long slim fingers.
The delicate, pearly paper had been creased carefully, not a wrong fold marring the exquisite construction. In the center of the small opus, honeyed eyes pause, widening as they encounter a thin antiqued silver band, delicate carvings just as exquisite as the paper rose.
A smile eases the older musician's features as he watches astonishment light the younger's features. "Happy anniversary, Saki."