[Snippet] Hourglasses sometimes break.
Title: Hourglasses sometimes break.
Info: Takaki Yuya
140w PG.
ahahaha, I feel like I need a tag to denote fics that aren't really... really. I don't know. This is a drabble, but it's not really a drabble. Snippet, I guess. I should make a snippet tag. For now, it's an !other tagged... This is basically just a rather random bit on how I sometimes think Takaki feels (possibly inflicted on the amount of Ray Bradbury I've been reading lately. ;|)
He feels like time is slipping through his fingers, but he hasn’t a clue what to do about it.
Somehow, when he’d envisioned his life, all those years ago (back when life had felt fresh and utterly free, tinted with bright oranges and scented with earth) it hadn’t looked like this.
Sometimes it feels like there’s no oxygen left to breathe, his lungs refuse the much-needed air, leaving the hollow thud-thud-thud of his heart to keep him company.
He’s scrabbling to hold on - to what, he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand.
But, as he slowly realizes with every passing minute, second, year... It’s slipped away already.
Leaving him with empty longing and glaring stagelights, the cheers of the unknown falling upon mostly deafened ears.
He feels like he’s forgotten something.
But he’s forgotten what that is.
Info: Takaki Yuya
140w PG.
ahahaha, I feel like I need a tag to denote fics that aren't really... really. I don't know. This is a drabble, but it's not really a drabble. Snippet, I guess. I should make a snippet tag. For now, it's an !other tagged... This is basically just a rather random bit on how I sometimes think Takaki feels (possibly inflicted on the amount of Ray Bradbury I've been reading lately. ;|)
He feels like time is slipping through his fingers, but he hasn’t a clue what to do about it.
Somehow, when he’d envisioned his life, all those years ago (back when life had felt fresh and utterly free, tinted with bright oranges and scented with earth) it hadn’t looked like this.
Sometimes it feels like there’s no oxygen left to breathe, his lungs refuse the much-needed air, leaving the hollow thud-thud-thud of his heart to keep him company.
He’s scrabbling to hold on - to what, he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand.
But, as he slowly realizes with every passing minute, second, year... It’s slipped away already.
Leaving him with empty longing and glaring stagelights, the cheers of the unknown falling upon mostly deafened ears.
He feels like he’s forgotten something.
But he’s forgotten what that is.