(no subject)
Prompts: Going Home, Vacation
Title: Dawn On
A very meta fic about Renge and the standard going home fare. Note: I wrote this in an insomniac haze at unholy o clock last night. It doesn't make seeeense.
--∞--
It just wasn't the same.
Her hair was pulled back neatly into a ponytail by her favorite dull pink ribbon, and she was dressed appropriately for the beach-- even if her skin was gradually fading back to that shut-in kind of pale from the healthy tan she'd gotten from living on the island for so long. Even though she now looked like a woman rather than a teenager, no one seemed to notice a difference. She told her father she would be turning twenty this August, and he looked at her with an incredulous expression-- she was going to be sixteen. Even though she looked a bit too old for the school, no one in Ouran had as much as commented on her sudden changes. It was as if they glossed over-- no, they couldn't see it.
She was on vacation in the tropics. She wanted a remote island; really, really remote, but her travel agent failed her. She was sitting on the stool of an outdoor bar along the side of the beach. Conveniences as far as the eye could see. To humor herself, or perhaps, her hopeful delirium, she'd found a natural coconut and cracked it open, tasting whatever was inside-- which was simply coconut milk. There wasn't a familiar face in sight, nor would there be.
The bartender had lent an ear to her stories for a while now.
"It was perfect..." She stirred her drink lazily with a straw, "I belonged there. I loved it there. I wanted to-- I wanted to tell my father and bid my friends adieu, but I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life." She took a sip. Sadly, the coconut-flavored alcohol was the closest thing she could get to a taste that reminded her of home. "I'm not some manga superhero who can rip open the space-time continuum, you know? It really is sad..." Renge smiled at the bartender with a forlorn expression. "It's just like something I saw on a webcomic once. I'll either go the rest of my life pretending it didn't happen, or have my family and friends think I've gone insane."
After a beat, "... More than usual."
It wasn't as if she thought the bartender had anything of value to add to the conversation, he probably thought she was as crazy as she just admitted. He was a listening ear, though, and one she'd take advantage of. She was right. There wasn't anything a girl like her could do. She could pour countless amounts of money into finding a single link back there, or any world she'd ever heard of while she was there. The closest she had were manga of people she'd seen on that island (and after noticing as much, had fervently collected anything with a familiar face). Occasionally, she'd get a little annoyed at seeing a few couples in those manga-- 'But ____ was the one you loved on the island! You confessed and everything!', those were the things she'd get a little too frustrated over in her head. She'd have to stop, remind herself that these were characters on a page, at the whims of an author, and what she saw and who she knew were paper and ink now.
Paper and ink.
It was so easy to create her own fantasies! Why was it suddenly so hard to fathom someone from that place coming to visit, or bring her back? Renge had certainly met people powerful enough to do it. Come on, she thought, come and rescue me. It's not that hard to imagine a lonely princess taken away from her fairytale world. As she wavered on whether or not such a thing was possible, it dawned on her.
Other worlds, fantastic worlds, had an out, a rip in time, because they were made that way. Because her manga and anime and whatnot made it all seem possible. An arc where interdimensional travel could happen? It was easy. Just write it up in a few chapters, but everything would return to the status quo sooner or later. Did she live in a world that was written that way? That fantastic adventures beyond the spectrum of human foresight could happen-- it just depended on who was the main character?
Her world wasn't one governed with laws like that. Hers was a slice of life, absolutely ordinary world, and the only extravagance came from the lively people she knew, the only progression came from their actions-- yes, if she could rationalize it that way, the people in the host club were the main characters. They made everything move forward. If she viewed her life as a manga, that certainly made sense, and if she could glimpse into the lives of others in a weekly serial, who was to say her life wasn't the same way? It was eerie how well it fit-- she had no problem casting anime-oriented stereotypes on others, on herself on occasion, but that had been a part of the fun. She'd never seriously considered anything like...
That was that.
Her world was a nice one, an ordinary one, and something like an otherworldly hero bringing her away wouldn't occur, because her world wasn't written for things like that.
Her fingertip drew circles around her glass. Impossible for her world. Not written. Not canon. That's why no one saw a change. Her disappearance was a blip that could've happened in the space between panels. All of her ramblings about the island must have happened off screen and were promptly forgotten about. Maybe she was getting shorter by the day, to fit her normal appearance. Maybe the only reason she remembered right now was because she wasn't helping advance the plot-- maybe she'd forget entirely the next time she was needed. That was that. The island didn't make you forget, your world did. She was no philosopher, but it made sense. Structurally, it was sound. It was petty, irrational, it made her head hurt and it threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but it made sense and that made her sick.
"It can't be... that cheap, can it...? It can't be that simple..."
All the mad geniuses on the island could theorize all they wanted about quantum physics and how the island worked scientifically, but Renge felt like she stumbled upon the answer merely because of a few familiar faces in manga in her world. That was that. To think, the only reason she figured out the truth was because she was an otaku.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she put money on the counter and thanked the bartender for his time. Slowly, she walked back to the resort she was staying at. Soon, she'd return to Ouran. Soon, she'd be shoved back into the mold her world made for her. There was no existential crisis or anything like that. Just a quiet look to the beach, clean and pristine and nothing like the one she knew as she walked, a soft feeling of loss that she knew she'd be crying out into her pillow later that evening.
She looked up and smiled sadly at the lavender sky granted by the sunset.
"All because I was written in some average, slice-of-life romance comedy..."
No promises not to forget, no begging to be proven wrong, no words to follow. All she did was follow the sandy trail back to her hotel room, and later, board the plane back to Japan, and later, begin classes again.
And then, it would be as if nothing changed.
Title: Dawn On
A very meta fic about Renge and the standard going home fare. Note: I wrote this in an insomniac haze at unholy o clock last night. It doesn't make seeeense.
--∞--
It just wasn't the same.
Her hair was pulled back neatly into a ponytail by her favorite dull pink ribbon, and she was dressed appropriately for the beach-- even if her skin was gradually fading back to that shut-in kind of pale from the healthy tan she'd gotten from living on the island for so long. Even though she now looked like a woman rather than a teenager, no one seemed to notice a difference. She told her father she would be turning twenty this August, and he looked at her with an incredulous expression-- she was going to be sixteen. Even though she looked a bit too old for the school, no one in Ouran had as much as commented on her sudden changes. It was as if they glossed over-- no, they couldn't see it.
She was on vacation in the tropics. She wanted a remote island; really, really remote, but her travel agent failed her. She was sitting on the stool of an outdoor bar along the side of the beach. Conveniences as far as the eye could see. To humor herself, or perhaps, her hopeful delirium, she'd found a natural coconut and cracked it open, tasting whatever was inside-- which was simply coconut milk. There wasn't a familiar face in sight, nor would there be.
The bartender had lent an ear to her stories for a while now.
"It was perfect..." She stirred her drink lazily with a straw, "I belonged there. I loved it there. I wanted to-- I wanted to tell my father and bid my friends adieu, but I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life." She took a sip. Sadly, the coconut-flavored alcohol was the closest thing she could get to a taste that reminded her of home. "I'm not some manga superhero who can rip open the space-time continuum, you know? It really is sad..." Renge smiled at the bartender with a forlorn expression. "It's just like something I saw on a webcomic once. I'll either go the rest of my life pretending it didn't happen, or have my family and friends think I've gone insane."
After a beat, "... More than usual."
It wasn't as if she thought the bartender had anything of value to add to the conversation, he probably thought she was as crazy as she just admitted. He was a listening ear, though, and one she'd take advantage of. She was right. There wasn't anything a girl like her could do. She could pour countless amounts of money into finding a single link back there, or any world she'd ever heard of while she was there. The closest she had were manga of people she'd seen on that island (and after noticing as much, had fervently collected anything with a familiar face). Occasionally, she'd get a little annoyed at seeing a few couples in those manga-- 'But ____ was the one you loved on the island! You confessed and everything!', those were the things she'd get a little too frustrated over in her head. She'd have to stop, remind herself that these were characters on a page, at the whims of an author, and what she saw and who she knew were paper and ink now.
Paper and ink.
It was so easy to create her own fantasies! Why was it suddenly so hard to fathom someone from that place coming to visit, or bring her back? Renge had certainly met people powerful enough to do it. Come on, she thought, come and rescue me. It's not that hard to imagine a lonely princess taken away from her fairytale world. As she wavered on whether or not such a thing was possible, it dawned on her.
Other worlds, fantastic worlds, had an out, a rip in time, because they were made that way. Because her manga and anime and whatnot made it all seem possible. An arc where interdimensional travel could happen? It was easy. Just write it up in a few chapters, but everything would return to the status quo sooner or later. Did she live in a world that was written that way? That fantastic adventures beyond the spectrum of human foresight could happen-- it just depended on who was the main character?
Her world wasn't one governed with laws like that. Hers was a slice of life, absolutely ordinary world, and the only extravagance came from the lively people she knew, the only progression came from their actions-- yes, if she could rationalize it that way, the people in the host club were the main characters. They made everything move forward. If she viewed her life as a manga, that certainly made sense, and if she could glimpse into the lives of others in a weekly serial, who was to say her life wasn't the same way? It was eerie how well it fit-- she had no problem casting anime-oriented stereotypes on others, on herself on occasion, but that had been a part of the fun. She'd never seriously considered anything like...
That was that.
Her world was a nice one, an ordinary one, and something like an otherworldly hero bringing her away wouldn't occur, because her world wasn't written for things like that.
Her fingertip drew circles around her glass. Impossible for her world. Not written. Not canon. That's why no one saw a change. Her disappearance was a blip that could've happened in the space between panels. All of her ramblings about the island must have happened off screen and were promptly forgotten about. Maybe she was getting shorter by the day, to fit her normal appearance. Maybe the only reason she remembered right now was because she wasn't helping advance the plot-- maybe she'd forget entirely the next time she was needed. That was that. The island didn't make you forget, your world did. She was no philosopher, but it made sense. Structurally, it was sound. It was petty, irrational, it made her head hurt and it threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but it made sense and that made her sick.
"It can't be... that cheap, can it...? It can't be that simple..."
All the mad geniuses on the island could theorize all they wanted about quantum physics and how the island worked scientifically, but Renge felt like she stumbled upon the answer merely because of a few familiar faces in manga in her world. That was that. To think, the only reason she figured out the truth was because she was an otaku.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she put money on the counter and thanked the bartender for his time. Slowly, she walked back to the resort she was staying at. Soon, she'd return to Ouran. Soon, she'd be shoved back into the mold her world made for her. There was no existential crisis or anything like that. Just a quiet look to the beach, clean and pristine and nothing like the one she knew as she walked, a soft feeling of loss that she knew she'd be crying out into her pillow later that evening.
She looked up and smiled sadly at the lavender sky granted by the sunset.
"All because I was written in some average, slice-of-life romance comedy..."
No promises not to forget, no begging to be proven wrong, no words to follow. All she did was follow the sandy trail back to her hotel room, and later, board the plane back to Japan, and later, begin classes again.
And then, it would be as if nothing changed.