[Drabble] A Twist In My Story
A Twist In My Story
EbiKisu - Tottsu/Fujigaya
467w, PG, AU
Kitayama called it the stalker syndrome. Totsuka preferred to think of it as divine research.
So I actually wrote this ages ago... and forgot about it being finished? Or something. It's an AU I'd love to explore more in the future! :D (I cannot for the life of me remember what prompted this.)
Totsuka liked people.
He liked to watch people. It was an odd habit but a necessary one, he claimed. Writers needed inspiration, muses, and people were the root of that inspiration. Writing without human flaw was dead.
That was how he ended up sitting on a bench outside the nearest station every few days, just watching as people were swallowed away while others were spat out. People hurrying, people taking their sweet time, there was always something to watch.
Kitayama called it the stalker syndrome. Totsuka preferred to think of it as divine research.
There was a manuscript waiting to begin back at his apartment and Totsuka burrowed deeper into his coat as he sat on the bench, his jeans just a thread too thin for comfort in the chilled evening air.
The station was busy at this time of night, Totsuka’s favorite time of night, and everything glittered as Totsuka watched and waited. He was never sure what he waited for except he knew it’d bring words for his fingertips to grasp at. Someone would walk past, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, a child would laugh with innocent glee, or maybe a man would stumble back in a drunken misery. It was always different.
“Can we talk about this another time, Kawai?” a young man said as he skittered past Totsuka’s bench. “It’s just not something I want to deal with right now.”
Totsuka wasn’t sure what drew him to that voice, that person walking past him. He was young, early twenties, with a jacket slung over his shoulder, a phone to his ear, and a frown on his face. He looked like any other young man who cared about his appearances, pretty or handsome but still generic.
Yet there was something about the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way he scowled down at the ground, or the brush of his voice on Totsuka’s ear like a sort of rough velvet.
He was enchanting.
He had paused for a moment as he spoke on the phone, but he was now stepping away, off to melt into the crowd.
The thought had Totsuka panicking, moving before he realized he’d gotten up off the bench. “Wait!”
The young man turned, eyebrows quirking down in confusion at the call. “Excuse me?”
Totsuka was eccentric at the best of times, but he actually didn’t usually do this sort of thing. But somehow he knew, just like he knew how to direct his words, channel his characters into love or danger, that this was not something he wanted to miss out on.
“What’s your name?” he asked, because subtlety was overrated.
Though his brow was still furrowed in confusion, the young man answered, speaking two words that Totsuka knew would bring his manuscript to life.
“Fujigaya Taisuke.”
EbiKisu - Tottsu/Fujigaya
467w, PG, AU
Kitayama called it the stalker syndrome. Totsuka preferred to think of it as divine research.
So I actually wrote this ages ago... and forgot about it being finished? Or something. It's an AU I'd love to explore more in the future! :D (I cannot for the life of me remember what prompted this.)
Totsuka liked people.
He liked to watch people. It was an odd habit but a necessary one, he claimed. Writers needed inspiration, muses, and people were the root of that inspiration. Writing without human flaw was dead.
That was how he ended up sitting on a bench outside the nearest station every few days, just watching as people were swallowed away while others were spat out. People hurrying, people taking their sweet time, there was always something to watch.
Kitayama called it the stalker syndrome. Totsuka preferred to think of it as divine research.
There was a manuscript waiting to begin back at his apartment and Totsuka burrowed deeper into his coat as he sat on the bench, his jeans just a thread too thin for comfort in the chilled evening air.
The station was busy at this time of night, Totsuka’s favorite time of night, and everything glittered as Totsuka watched and waited. He was never sure what he waited for except he knew it’d bring words for his fingertips to grasp at. Someone would walk past, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, a child would laugh with innocent glee, or maybe a man would stumble back in a drunken misery. It was always different.
“Can we talk about this another time, Kawai?” a young man said as he skittered past Totsuka’s bench. “It’s just not something I want to deal with right now.”
Totsuka wasn’t sure what drew him to that voice, that person walking past him. He was young, early twenties, with a jacket slung over his shoulder, a phone to his ear, and a frown on his face. He looked like any other young man who cared about his appearances, pretty or handsome but still generic.
Yet there was something about the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way he scowled down at the ground, or the brush of his voice on Totsuka’s ear like a sort of rough velvet.
He was enchanting.
He had paused for a moment as he spoke on the phone, but he was now stepping away, off to melt into the crowd.
The thought had Totsuka panicking, moving before he realized he’d gotten up off the bench. “Wait!”
The young man turned, eyebrows quirking down in confusion at the call. “Excuse me?”
Totsuka was eccentric at the best of times, but he actually didn’t usually do this sort of thing. But somehow he knew, just like he knew how to direct his words, channel his characters into love or danger, that this was not something he wanted to miss out on.
“What’s your name?” he asked, because subtlety was overrated.
Though his brow was still furrowed in confusion, the young man answered, speaking two words that Totsuka knew would bring his manuscript to life.
“Fujigaya Taisuke.”