target;
i also either tend to have a thing for single-word titles or titles so lengthy they take up half a page. huh.
Title: target
Rating: PG-13 (solely for language)
Length: Drabble
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Gokudera
Summary: "as yamamoto fingered the trigger playfully, he wondered, what if i’m not cut out to kill?"
Notes: this is actually one of the shortest, complete stories i've ever written, and probably doesn't even need a cut. it's a lot easier for me to write flash fiction like this than full-length stories, which i probably why i write so many of them lol, but i wish i was a lot better at the latter. it's certainly a challenge for me ;_;
in a whisper, he said, “it isn’t like me to be like this.”
like a hook and anchor, his attention caught on. “like what?”
he stared out of the window, across the street, into more windows where images razed across television screens and bright pixels lived only to die. so slowly. he flicked open the top of the lighter.
“nervous.” the flame, with a click, sprung to life.
the other eyed the orange glow warily, but said nothing. swinging the lighter closed again, he said, “god, i’m so nervous i’m shaking.” he laughed in disbelief.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“i dunno, really.”
“whatever it is, get a hold of yourself.” he shook his hair out of his eyes but he really wanted to say, when the fuck did you take my lighter?
and as yamamoto fingered the trigger playfully, he wondered, what if i’m not cut out to kill?
Title: target
Rating: PG-13 (solely for language)
Length: Drabble
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Gokudera
Summary: "as yamamoto fingered the trigger playfully, he wondered, what if i’m not cut out to kill?"
Notes: this is actually one of the shortest, complete stories i've ever written, and probably doesn't even need a cut. it's a lot easier for me to write flash fiction like this than full-length stories, which i probably why i write so many of them lol, but i wish i was a lot better at the latter. it's certainly a challenge for me ;_;
in a whisper, he said, “it isn’t like me to be like this.”
like a hook and anchor, his attention caught on. “like what?”
he stared out of the window, across the street, into more windows where images razed across television screens and bright pixels lived only to die. so slowly. he flicked open the top of the lighter.
“nervous.” the flame, with a click, sprung to life.
the other eyed the orange glow warily, but said nothing. swinging the lighter closed again, he said, “god, i’m so nervous i’m shaking.” he laughed in disbelief.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“i dunno, really.”
“whatever it is, get a hold of yourself.” he shook his hair out of his eyes but he really wanted to say, when the fuck did you take my lighter?
and as yamamoto fingered the trigger playfully, he wondered, what if i’m not cut out to kill?