random drabble time~
Title: Konseki
Author: hippiefox
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: PG, it's very safe
Genre: drama, character death, angst
Konseki
He looked misplaced.
His hair unkept and almost knotted. It wasn’t exactly his fault that he couldn’t do anything but cry and sleep. His bed was his haven now, filled with old scents of love and of hate.
All the smells that brought a certain peace to him.
That chased away the nightmares and replaced them with dreams of sun and wildflowers.
But the sheets were dirty, probably dirtier than himself. But if he washed everything, he’d be washing away his life, his memories and their existence together.
He didn’t care if it had been a week or a year, time stood still now and there was no minutes or hours or seconds. Night and day blurred into one.
Whatever this day was, he was awake. On his feet for once in nearly a month… or two? His brows furrowed at the thought. When was the last time he was awake? When he stood in front of the dusty curtains glowing orange?
He recalled people coming in to see him, touching his shoulders and begging for him to speak.
He remembered the smell of food but not the taste… he couldn’t eat anyway. He remembered the sight of tears on faces he knew, but not the sound that usually broke his heart.
Someone had hit him, he remembered, the bruise on his cheek was still there. But he couldn’t remember who had hit him. He couldn’t remember the pain.
There was a piano in this room where he stood now. He walked over, his feet cringing in pain as he padded across the hard floor. His fingers trailed across the glossy lid, opening it slowly.
Ivory keys glowed in the sun’s hidden rays and he sat down in front of them.
He looked misplaced. Like a homeless man sitting in a formal restaurant.
When he looked down, his dried eyes stung as he tried to remember what he was supposed to do with this instrument. Scratching lightly at the pricks of facial hair, he dropped his fingers lightly.
A haunting sort of melody hung above him, fading off into someplace he couldn’t see.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to lose another thing.
So he plays quicker, a sad sort of melody that breaks through the barrier of grief he had build up. Tears break free, but he does little to stop them.
He can’t stop the frantic music, he can’t lose it, not again. The notes string together his shattered heart, pulling and twisting with pain until an angry sob escapes his chest.
He knows the song is going to end, he knows he’ll hit a sour note. Hot tears blur his vision and his skillful hands tremble and slow their pace. Everything grows heavy… his fingers are weak again, hitting the keys with a straining force.
His whole body is quaking now. Leaning his head low, his matted hair falls over his hollow face, curtaining a painful expression that could break anyone’s heart.
Sorrowful sobs are accompanied with a voice… a voice that is broken and so soft it would be mistaken for a breeze. He hasn’t spoken in so long, he’s surprised that he can still hear his voice.
"What am I doing?" he asks himself, slow and painful notes echoing from the dark instrument before him.
No one answers, of course. Or maybe someone does, but we can’t hear them. An old tune came floating into his mind on the vibration of a note.
He lifts his head and closes his eyes over the tears before playing.
Why are you so sad? Someone asks him. He frowns, ignoring the voice that is interrupting his memory of the past.
Someone gently moves a strand of hair from his face.
Why not a happy song for once? He shakes his head again and hits a sour note. He feels himself breaking again, losing the one thing that kept him together.
"Because you’re not here…" he answers the voice dryly, like it was being a nuisance. The song is ending… he can feel it. The voice has stopped talking, but he knows it’s still there.
"You’re not here anymore." he says a little more sharply, hitting more sour notes. His fingers thud against the keys, losing their desperate grace.
There’s another sob in the room and he doesn’t know if it’s from him or the voice. He tells the voice to stop, to leave him alone.
Don’t be sad. The voice is almost begging now, hurting him deeper than ever before, so deep that it makes him angry.
The fierce slam of ivory keys show his anger. The borrowed and oversized shirt that he’d been wearing since that day slipped off one of his thin shoulders with the force. But the voice doesn’t stop, it never stops.
He’s grown angry now, his fingers hitting any key.
"You’re not here!"
With a single pound that snapped several strings and sent a wave of furious melody through the air, he slams the piano shut with a crack. The bench is in his way, so he kicks it, screaming curses that tore from his heart and throat.
He falls to his hands and knees, panting and crying, overgrown nails digging into the carpet and his scalp.
The last whisper of the furious melody fades away somewhere unseen and the voice follows. He is left alone in the silence, unable to hear his tears and broken whispers.
He sits back, lifting his tear streaked face up, blinking at the golden sunlight. His eyes are bloodshot, but no longer dry.
He looks down at his hands, red and swollen from hitting the piano. He bites his quivering bottom lip as new tears of shame threaten to break forward.
He takes the front of the shirt he’s wearing and pulls it up to his face, breathing in deeply.
For once, he smiles, and though there are tears, he knows he can’t be completely alone. Someone was always there, trying to fix him. But never once had he allowed the voice to help.
And so, he stood up slowly, wiping his face and reaching down for the bench.
A broken man stood in front of his broken piano, finally ready to be fixed by the one voice and one melody only he could hear.
AN: This is the last death fic for awhile XD I actually wrote this during the last chapter of Fallen Angels when I had a slight writer's block... Anyway, some slightly more happier drabbles might be coming your way soon ^^ <3
Author: hippiefox
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: PG, it's very safe
Genre: drama, character death, angst
Konseki
He looked misplaced.
His hair unkept and almost knotted. It wasn’t exactly his fault that he couldn’t do anything but cry and sleep. His bed was his haven now, filled with old scents of love and of hate.
All the smells that brought a certain peace to him.
That chased away the nightmares and replaced them with dreams of sun and wildflowers.
But the sheets were dirty, probably dirtier than himself. But if he washed everything, he’d be washing away his life, his memories and their existence together.
He didn’t care if it had been a week or a year, time stood still now and there was no minutes or hours or seconds. Night and day blurred into one.
Whatever this day was, he was awake. On his feet for once in nearly a month… or two? His brows furrowed at the thought. When was the last time he was awake? When he stood in front of the dusty curtains glowing orange?
He recalled people coming in to see him, touching his shoulders and begging for him to speak.
He remembered the smell of food but not the taste… he couldn’t eat anyway. He remembered the sight of tears on faces he knew, but not the sound that usually broke his heart.
Someone had hit him, he remembered, the bruise on his cheek was still there. But he couldn’t remember who had hit him. He couldn’t remember the pain.
There was a piano in this room where he stood now. He walked over, his feet cringing in pain as he padded across the hard floor. His fingers trailed across the glossy lid, opening it slowly.
Ivory keys glowed in the sun’s hidden rays and he sat down in front of them.
He looked misplaced. Like a homeless man sitting in a formal restaurant.
When he looked down, his dried eyes stung as he tried to remember what he was supposed to do with this instrument. Scratching lightly at the pricks of facial hair, he dropped his fingers lightly.
A haunting sort of melody hung above him, fading off into someplace he couldn’t see.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to lose another thing.
So he plays quicker, a sad sort of melody that breaks through the barrier of grief he had build up. Tears break free, but he does little to stop them.
He can’t stop the frantic music, he can’t lose it, not again. The notes string together his shattered heart, pulling and twisting with pain until an angry sob escapes his chest.
He knows the song is going to end, he knows he’ll hit a sour note. Hot tears blur his vision and his skillful hands tremble and slow their pace. Everything grows heavy… his fingers are weak again, hitting the keys with a straining force.
His whole body is quaking now. Leaning his head low, his matted hair falls over his hollow face, curtaining a painful expression that could break anyone’s heart.
Sorrowful sobs are accompanied with a voice… a voice that is broken and so soft it would be mistaken for a breeze. He hasn’t spoken in so long, he’s surprised that he can still hear his voice.
"What am I doing?" he asks himself, slow and painful notes echoing from the dark instrument before him.
No one answers, of course. Or maybe someone does, but we can’t hear them. An old tune came floating into his mind on the vibration of a note.
He lifts his head and closes his eyes over the tears before playing.
Why are you so sad? Someone asks him. He frowns, ignoring the voice that is interrupting his memory of the past.
Someone gently moves a strand of hair from his face.
Why not a happy song for once? He shakes his head again and hits a sour note. He feels himself breaking again, losing the one thing that kept him together.
"Because you’re not here…" he answers the voice dryly, like it was being a nuisance. The song is ending… he can feel it. The voice has stopped talking, but he knows it’s still there.
"You’re not here anymore." he says a little more sharply, hitting more sour notes. His fingers thud against the keys, losing their desperate grace.
There’s another sob in the room and he doesn’t know if it’s from him or the voice. He tells the voice to stop, to leave him alone.
Don’t be sad. The voice is almost begging now, hurting him deeper than ever before, so deep that it makes him angry.
The fierce slam of ivory keys show his anger. The borrowed and oversized shirt that he’d been wearing since that day slipped off one of his thin shoulders with the force. But the voice doesn’t stop, it never stops.
He’s grown angry now, his fingers hitting any key.
"You’re not here!"
With a single pound that snapped several strings and sent a wave of furious melody through the air, he slams the piano shut with a crack. The bench is in his way, so he kicks it, screaming curses that tore from his heart and throat.
He falls to his hands and knees, panting and crying, overgrown nails digging into the carpet and his scalp.
The last whisper of the furious melody fades away somewhere unseen and the voice follows. He is left alone in the silence, unable to hear his tears and broken whispers.
He sits back, lifting his tear streaked face up, blinking at the golden sunlight. His eyes are bloodshot, but no longer dry.
He looks down at his hands, red and swollen from hitting the piano. He bites his quivering bottom lip as new tears of shame threaten to break forward.
He takes the front of the shirt he’s wearing and pulls it up to his face, breathing in deeply.
For once, he smiles, and though there are tears, he knows he can’t be completely alone. Someone was always there, trying to fix him. But never once had he allowed the voice to help.
And so, he stood up slowly, wiping his face and reaching down for the bench.
A broken man stood in front of his broken piano, finally ready to be fixed by the one voice and one melody only he could hear.
AN: This is the last death fic for awhile XD I actually wrote this during the last chapter of Fallen Angels when I had a slight writer's block... Anyway, some slightly more happier drabbles might be coming your way soon ^^ <3