(no subject)
Title: When it rains
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: reflective
Rating: PG
Date: December 04/05, 2008
Pairing: sakura x hyde
Word count: 589
POV: Third person limited
“It doesn’t rain enough,” hyde complained, gazing over his coffee at the late afternoon sun. Idly, he tapped the ash off his cigarette into the neglected overflowing glass tray.
“What kind of worry is that?” Sakura asked automatically, an expression of puzzlement half-masked behind his mug, the stronger of the two flavors at the table, livened with the hair of the dog.
hyde smiled with the knowing, far-off look he got when he went a million miles away and his gaze unfocused. He shook his head.
He remembered the days when the sunrise had found him lying in bed playing hide and seek in the torturous light-hide with reality and seek with the warm company beside him. Rain had been an excuse to skip afternoon half-commitments to friends and just stay in. They’d wasted hours on video games and cards and conversations and made lame excuses. They’d gone out to walk and smoke and huddle too close under one umbrella, almost daring the neighbors to disapprove. When he had spent rainy days alone, the memory of the warmth they shared on so many others compensated for the grey outside the window.
He remembered the days when the sunrise marked another missed opportunity in his sleepless nights, beating through his blinds as if to burn the message into him by force-the days would go on, with or without him. The rain had reminded him of the time they had spent freely on growing so close he didn’t know how to be separate. The rain had looked like tears and his tears looked like crystals caught on dark circles and pallid cheeks.
Steam rose from his coffee as he breathed on it and smoke hung in the air, perpetuating the sense that the kitchen was entirely separate space and only their immediate conversation held weight. Days felt like weeks and hours passed like seconds. But the past never changed. Not only because it couldn’t by its nature, but because he did not allow it. It had long since ceased to feel like only yesterday. It was only safe from a distance. He reminded himself of this manifesto every time he caught himself becoming nostalgic.
But sometimes, at random moments when there was nothing too near beneath the surface preventing him from taking a risk, he missed it. Not just the past, but the feeling of remembering the past and really caring about it. He felt, in fleeting snippets quickly swept beneath more immediate concerns, that he’d lost the ability to appreciate the past and make it work for him. In detaching from loss, he’d lost the feeling of the memory of what he’d had to lose-thrown away the pleasure in recalling the good to spare himself the pain of remembering the bad.
It wasn’t something he wanted to feel all the time, but it was nearly impossible to conjure even when it was welcome. Reflection, introspection, exploration; it was all…
“It’s easier when it rains,” hyde asserted with his unfaltering, distant smile. “I need some inspiration. I’ve got a deadline and no material.” It wasn’t a simple exploitation of experience, but a use of the feeling. But he wouldn’t explain, and Sakura wouldn’t ask. If either of them still would have done so, hyde wondered if he wouldn’t need the rain. But he knew, rather than wondered, that he wouldn’t want the rain at all if asking weren’t even up for question, and his smile warmed and bittered as though the sip of his coffee had sunk in.
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: reflective
Rating: PG
Date: December 04/05, 2008
Pairing: sakura x hyde
Word count: 589
POV: Third person limited
“It doesn’t rain enough,” hyde complained, gazing over his coffee at the late afternoon sun. Idly, he tapped the ash off his cigarette into the neglected overflowing glass tray.
“What kind of worry is that?” Sakura asked automatically, an expression of puzzlement half-masked behind his mug, the stronger of the two flavors at the table, livened with the hair of the dog.
hyde smiled with the knowing, far-off look he got when he went a million miles away and his gaze unfocused. He shook his head.
He remembered the days when the sunrise had found him lying in bed playing hide and seek in the torturous light-hide with reality and seek with the warm company beside him. Rain had been an excuse to skip afternoon half-commitments to friends and just stay in. They’d wasted hours on video games and cards and conversations and made lame excuses. They’d gone out to walk and smoke and huddle too close under one umbrella, almost daring the neighbors to disapprove. When he had spent rainy days alone, the memory of the warmth they shared on so many others compensated for the grey outside the window.
He remembered the days when the sunrise marked another missed opportunity in his sleepless nights, beating through his blinds as if to burn the message into him by force-the days would go on, with or without him. The rain had reminded him of the time they had spent freely on growing so close he didn’t know how to be separate. The rain had looked like tears and his tears looked like crystals caught on dark circles and pallid cheeks.
Steam rose from his coffee as he breathed on it and smoke hung in the air, perpetuating the sense that the kitchen was entirely separate space and only their immediate conversation held weight. Days felt like weeks and hours passed like seconds. But the past never changed. Not only because it couldn’t by its nature, but because he did not allow it. It had long since ceased to feel like only yesterday. It was only safe from a distance. He reminded himself of this manifesto every time he caught himself becoming nostalgic.
But sometimes, at random moments when there was nothing too near beneath the surface preventing him from taking a risk, he missed it. Not just the past, but the feeling of remembering the past and really caring about it. He felt, in fleeting snippets quickly swept beneath more immediate concerns, that he’d lost the ability to appreciate the past and make it work for him. In detaching from loss, he’d lost the feeling of the memory of what he’d had to lose-thrown away the pleasure in recalling the good to spare himself the pain of remembering the bad.
It wasn’t something he wanted to feel all the time, but it was nearly impossible to conjure even when it was welcome. Reflection, introspection, exploration; it was all…
“It’s easier when it rains,” hyde asserted with his unfaltering, distant smile. “I need some inspiration. I’ve got a deadline and no material.” It wasn’t a simple exploitation of experience, but a use of the feeling. But he wouldn’t explain, and Sakura wouldn’t ask. If either of them still would have done so, hyde wondered if he wouldn’t need the rain. But he knew, rather than wondered, that he wouldn’t want the rain at all if asking weren’t even up for question, and his smile warmed and bittered as though the sip of his coffee had sunk in.