Drabble Collection: Whateverfest 2011
Prompt responses for the whateverfest at _quaintnotion. Images are included. Posted in one entry because they're all short.
He has a cigarette for every mood, every emotion he's ever felt. Anger is heavy and dry, sears his tongue and brands the inside of his lungs. Hate is bitter, chokes him until he can only see black and feel bits of tar and ash forming a tumor in his throat. Pain is sharp, makes him feel lightheaded when it floods into his veins, causes wounds to bleed and old scars to ache in remembrance.
But as he leans against the balcony, smoking pack after pack of Anger and Lost and Sin after his lover closed the door to their apartment and left the keys on the kitchen table, none of them can relieve the feelings he has. None of them, he realizes, can soften the rage coiling in his gut, rage at himself for the mistakes and arguments and neglect over the past months. Not one can ease the disgust, the sheer agony tearing his chest apart, bones threatening to break and tears dripping down his pale cheeks.
He flushes them down the toilet and throws the boxes into the bin, unable to deal with the emptiness any longer.
He's been staring at the sky for hours now. It's clear something is on his mind, something pertaining only to him and his infinite musings. He watches the artificial-blue irises flicker rapidly behind the tinted sunglasses, jump from star to star and back again. The light that shines in them is radiant, twin novas that rival even the brightest sun, hot and blazing.
He wonders if his body is cold, if he can feel the heat leaving him with every tremor. He wonders if he knows where he is, sitting on a park bench at one in the morning. He wonders if he will ever go home, to the carpeted floor and painted walls and the little dog that keeps him company on lonely evenings like this.
Reita watches Ruki and wonders if he knows that he's here, that he exists. But he doesn't wonder if he's looking at the same stars as he is, because he can't even begin to imagine what they look like in his eyes.
"Hey, don't the ones in the middle look a bit like Koron?"
Ruki paused mid-step and glanced at his boyfriend, following his gaze to the display of candy apples in the shop window. "No, they don't. Koron has black fur, not brown, you know that. And he doesn't wear antlers." The vocalist tugged on his arm.
"Come on, we need to finish shopping for Kai's Christmas present. That man is always a pain to pick out clothes for..." He walked ahead a few steps, only to turn around once more when he noticed the lack of footsteps beside him and sighed. "Reita, we don't have time for this."
But the blond continued to stare at the confections sitting on the tray, eyes glued to the glass. "I wonder what they taste like."
It was those curves he woke up to every morning, those arms that held him in a tight, warm embrace. Those brittle, blond strands that would brush the crook of his neck, lips curved into a smile and calloused fingers stroking his slender frame. It was those legs that wrapped so tightly around his waist every time they had sex, the way their chests pressed together, hearts beating as one, that made Ruki fall in love with him.
Quietly, he looked up from the sketchbook in his lap to the man sprawled across the bed, absorbing every detail with slow and practiced ease.
He loved Reita. He loved his body.
Disclaimer: the GazettE belong to themselves. All stories are entirely fictional.
He has a cigarette for every mood, every emotion he's ever felt. Anger is heavy and dry, sears his tongue and brands the inside of his lungs. Hate is bitter, chokes him until he can only see black and feel bits of tar and ash forming a tumor in his throat. Pain is sharp, makes him feel lightheaded when it floods into his veins, causes wounds to bleed and old scars to ache in remembrance.
But as he leans against the balcony, smoking pack after pack of Anger and Lost and Sin after his lover closed the door to their apartment and left the keys on the kitchen table, none of them can relieve the feelings he has. None of them, he realizes, can soften the rage coiling in his gut, rage at himself for the mistakes and arguments and neglect over the past months. Not one can ease the disgust, the sheer agony tearing his chest apart, bones threatening to break and tears dripping down his pale cheeks.
He flushes them down the toilet and throws the boxes into the bin, unable to deal with the emptiness any longer.
He's been staring at the sky for hours now. It's clear something is on his mind, something pertaining only to him and his infinite musings. He watches the artificial-blue irises flicker rapidly behind the tinted sunglasses, jump from star to star and back again. The light that shines in them is radiant, twin novas that rival even the brightest sun, hot and blazing.
He wonders if his body is cold, if he can feel the heat leaving him with every tremor. He wonders if he knows where he is, sitting on a park bench at one in the morning. He wonders if he will ever go home, to the carpeted floor and painted walls and the little dog that keeps him company on lonely evenings like this.
Reita watches Ruki and wonders if he knows that he's here, that he exists. But he doesn't wonder if he's looking at the same stars as he is, because he can't even begin to imagine what they look like in his eyes.
"Hey, don't the ones in the middle look a bit like Koron?"
Ruki paused mid-step and glanced at his boyfriend, following his gaze to the display of candy apples in the shop window. "No, they don't. Koron has black fur, not brown, you know that. And he doesn't wear antlers." The vocalist tugged on his arm.
"Come on, we need to finish shopping for Kai's Christmas present. That man is always a pain to pick out clothes for..." He walked ahead a few steps, only to turn around once more when he noticed the lack of footsteps beside him and sighed. "Reita, we don't have time for this."
But the blond continued to stare at the confections sitting on the tray, eyes glued to the glass. "I wonder what they taste like."
It was those curves he woke up to every morning, those arms that held him in a tight, warm embrace. Those brittle, blond strands that would brush the crook of his neck, lips curved into a smile and calloused fingers stroking his slender frame. It was those legs that wrapped so tightly around his waist every time they had sex, the way their chests pressed together, hearts beating as one, that made Ruki fall in love with him.
Quietly, he looked up from the sketchbook in his lap to the man sprawled across the bed, absorbing every detail with slow and practiced ease.
He loved Reita. He loved his body.
Disclaimer: the GazettE belong to themselves. All stories are entirely fictional.