[fic] a bit hysteric (megumi/mikoto)
Title: A Bit Hysteric
Fandom: The Day of Revolution
Pairing: Megumi/Mikoto
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: DoR belongs to Mikiyo Tsuda et al
A/N: I think I just got a little weird. er.
/shame, shame on myself . . .
There are many ways to hold somebody's hand; there are many ways to let go; and there are only so many ways to stand around, smiling falsely like that when you're in pain from the hormones. It's not a physical pain, of course not. Get your head out of your ass. Just consult a specialist, the forums, something special, and you will know.
And there are many ways to get closer until you are both seeing crosseyed like some inbred cats - and maybe that's what you are. On the outside, because deep within you are feeling pretty dumb by all the lovey-dovey hormone shit. You weren't supposed to feel this way until you were born as a fifteen year old intersex. Then you were all about the confusion of a double life; you would even sing for it, if you even knew how.
Right, Mikoto? You can be so funny.
"Did you say something?" he says, sharing his time between his crossword puzzle and Megumi's hand, which he's trying to hold but not fully succeeding, sweaty, conflicted. (He never does, even by this point in time, goes all the way.) Either he holds it half-way, or none at all. Unless they are moving. Then it's a whole other ballpark that constitutes chasing balls and never really getting a good grip on them. Mikoto is just like that: halves. Of oranges or pears or.
Cherries aha. Is he juicy? Are they juice put together?
Megumi reaches out to finger his hair and he, naturally, blushes. "If we end up together, do you think I'll ever manage to have your kids?"
"M-Megumi!" He blanches; well, at least he didn't pass out. "Megumi!"
"What?"
He smiles now. "You're always thinking ahead of yourself. I love that about you." Yes, and you love her, don't you?
Kei scratches her insides, as if he means to tickle her but in reality he is just doing some crappy voodoo on her-himself. But, you know, maybe he is just a pubescent cherry waiting to die in his dark hole, and her - Megumi is still such a seed in a sorry state. There is only one way to go from a sorry state.
And that is up. Up. And awaaay.
"How long's it been since your birthday?" she says, a bit hysteric.
He thinks for a moment, bunching up his nose. "My sixteenth? Wow, possibly six months now? I can't believe where the time went. Those guys didn't even notice at school. What bullies."
"That you've grown up?"
He leans back and lays across the crossword book on the floor. He sighs and tuts at the ceiling. He would make a sane dad someday, for someone else.
Why won't he answer her question? Or is it Kei's question that he should . . .
"Should we celebrate a bit more?" she ventures, probing under his arm for the pen.
But she can hardly finish the insecure sounds filtering out from her insides when Mikoto's unboyish hand is upon her, cradling-guiding her jaw in for a kiss. They kiss. And it is good.
Hey, Mikoto? Could you say you're bi? Could you say you'll want kids, or not want them? In ten years time? Could you say that you've finally surpassed that half standard you've been so cordial about following these past few years? Could you tell your father, and that psycho-therapist, and that stranger on the street that you really can't change instincts or identities on a whim. Even if you want to? That's just the way things go, then.
Their eyes wander simultaneously.
Hey, Mikoto, your lips taste like the cherries cut up for the fruit brunch earlier! It's a laugh, god you're a laugh.
"What are you thinking♥?" he says, releasing her braid, and so, possibly, releasing Megumi's backyard identity.
Right, Kei Yoshikawa?
Fandom: The Day of Revolution
Pairing: Megumi/Mikoto
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: DoR belongs to Mikiyo Tsuda et al
A/N: I think I just got a little weird. er.
/shame, shame on myself . . .
There are many ways to hold somebody's hand; there are many ways to let go; and there are only so many ways to stand around, smiling falsely like that when you're in pain from the hormones. It's not a physical pain, of course not. Get your head out of your ass. Just consult a specialist, the forums, something special, and you will know.
And there are many ways to get closer until you are both seeing crosseyed like some inbred cats - and maybe that's what you are. On the outside, because deep within you are feeling pretty dumb by all the lovey-dovey hormone shit. You weren't supposed to feel this way until you were born as a fifteen year old intersex. Then you were all about the confusion of a double life; you would even sing for it, if you even knew how.
Right, Mikoto? You can be so funny.
"Did you say something?" he says, sharing his time between his crossword puzzle and Megumi's hand, which he's trying to hold but not fully succeeding, sweaty, conflicted. (He never does, even by this point in time, goes all the way.) Either he holds it half-way, or none at all. Unless they are moving. Then it's a whole other ballpark that constitutes chasing balls and never really getting a good grip on them. Mikoto is just like that: halves. Of oranges or pears or.
Cherries aha. Is he juicy? Are they juice put together?
Megumi reaches out to finger his hair and he, naturally, blushes. "If we end up together, do you think I'll ever manage to have your kids?"
"M-Megumi!" He blanches; well, at least he didn't pass out. "Megumi!"
"What?"
He smiles now. "You're always thinking ahead of yourself. I love that about you." Yes, and you love her, don't you?
Kei scratches her insides, as if he means to tickle her but in reality he is just doing some crappy voodoo on her-himself. But, you know, maybe he is just a pubescent cherry waiting to die in his dark hole, and her - Megumi is still such a seed in a sorry state. There is only one way to go from a sorry state.
And that is up. Up. And awaaay.
"How long's it been since your birthday?" she says, a bit hysteric.
He thinks for a moment, bunching up his nose. "My sixteenth? Wow, possibly six months now? I can't believe where the time went. Those guys didn't even notice at school. What bullies."
"That you've grown up?"
He leans back and lays across the crossword book on the floor. He sighs and tuts at the ceiling. He would make a sane dad someday, for someone else.
Why won't he answer her question? Or is it Kei's question that he should . . .
"Should we celebrate a bit more?" she ventures, probing under his arm for the pen.
But she can hardly finish the insecure sounds filtering out from her insides when Mikoto's unboyish hand is upon her, cradling-guiding her jaw in for a kiss. They kiss. And it is good.
Hey, Mikoto? Could you say you're bi? Could you say you'll want kids, or not want them? In ten years time? Could you say that you've finally surpassed that half standard you've been so cordial about following these past few years? Could you tell your father, and that psycho-therapist, and that stranger on the street that you really can't change instincts or identities on a whim. Even if you want to? That's just the way things go, then.
Their eyes wander simultaneously.
Hey, Mikoto, your lips taste like the cherries cut up for the fruit brunch earlier! It's a laugh, god you're a laugh.
"What are you thinking♥?" he says, releasing her braid, and so, possibly, releasing Megumi's backyard identity.
Right, Kei Yoshikawa?