Pivot: Half-full or Half-empty
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Collection/Title: Pivot- Half-full or Half-empty
Rating: K
Summary: With each decision, the pivot swings differently. Machi and Yuki. Its all a matter of perspective.
Author: tokene
- || -
Fidgeting around on her bed, Machi looks at the room around her. Books are askew, a flowerpot on the narrow windowsill knocked over, its contents strewn all over her desk, contrasting to the stark white of the assorted papers beneath it. Her bookbag is the only thing remotely upright, slightly slumping to the left at her feet. Flexing her foot experimentally, it joins the long list of Things Not In Place, as a plethora (yes, the use of that word is justified, if one would care to take a look at the contents of her bag) of items spilled out onto the already-filled floor.
It has not been a good day.
“Bad”, she thinks, would be a rather grave understatement. However, when put into perspective, it was just like most other days. (And that last thought served to remind her of how extremely joyful her life currently was.)
She had woken up late, her alarm clock being muffled under a large pile of clothes in the corner. Sleepily squinting at the digital display of it, Machi came to realise it was the worst kind of late possible. There was late, which involved a maximum of ten minutes of oversleeping, and would result in her running to school to make it in time for the second bell. And then there was late, which involved any thing of more than an hour of muffled beeping coming from the device. No one would ever notice as she slipped into her second class, skipping the first.
And then there was late, a cross between the former two, which would, no matter what her course of action, inevitably result in her being caught by the discipline committee, being called to her form teacher (sighing a symphony and rubbing her wrinkling forehead) who would tiredly reprimand her for tardiness, and ask her to please behave.
All in all, it had a way of throwing her whole day off, as if her days were not thrown off enough.
Classes went through in a blur (“Kuragi-san, your answer?” “...” “... Kuragi Machi-san?” “...?” “... What about you then, Masuke-san?”) as they always had, with her successfully tuning out most of the droning and lecturing.
Lunch went by, with her forgetting her bento, and not making it in time to get anything from the canteen.
When she was about to leave for home, Kimi loudly announced her presence in Machi's class, grabbing the poor girl by the arm, only to drag her to the student council room, where the meeting (forgotten) was to be held. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Time ticked by, and there was only Kakeru and Machi in the room which-
Ding-dong
… Speak of the devil? Its not like anyone else comes by here.
“Kuragi-san! I'm sorry to bother you but...” Yuki, standing in the doorway, wet spots on his woolen jacket, seemed abnormally flushed and flustered for, well... Yuki.
Machi stood there, unblinking.
His gaze darted around the door-frame, a fleeting glance at Machi's (I-am-not-amused) face, at the floor, and back up.
“But its snowing, Kuragi-san,” he finally said, seeming to realise what a pathetic and flimsy excuse it was, to come to someone else's house uninvited.
She looked at him, and he looked back at her, blood rushing to both of their cheeks (though for differing reasons).
“I mean,” Yuki finally added “if you don't want to go out and make the footprints like we said, that's fine, and I'm really sorry to-”
His words were cut off by the slam of the door, as he was left in the empty hallway once again. Yuki swallowed, realising (belatedly) what a mistake it had been to come over. He was contemplating the pros and cons of staying or leaving, when the door was flung open again, revealing Machi in her own coat and boots, as she locked the door behind her.
There was just a little awkward moment between them, as the two of them looked everywhere, but at each other, wondering who would be the first to crack.
“... It won't snow for long, right?” It was a statement, more than an actual question, but Yuki got the message, as he followed her quick steps down the hall.
- || -
They both sat in her room, faces flushed with the cold wind of the outdoors, sitting closer on the edge of the bed than they probably would have liked (a small oasis in a room of disarray), tea nestled in their hands. She'd invited him in not because she'd wanted to, but more out of courtesy. Machi may not have been the most polite of them all, but she did know her manners when it came down to it. Perhaps not all that her mother (the word seemed to bite her tongue and dry her throat simultaneously) had taught her, had come to a complete waste.
Sitting in companionable silence (far better than the one which had stretched between them in the hallway, a half hour and one street of snow ago), Yuki accidentally shifted his foot a bit too much to the left, and knocked over a small stack of books.
He looked over, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that for her, for this situation, it wasn't what was needed. So he smiled, and looked back down into the murky green of his tea.
“So how was your day?”
Machi considered it, sipping at her own cup, looking at the newly created mess (in a room of messes).
“It was pretty good.”
- || -
A/N:
Arghhhhh. This one did not come out at all like what I wanted it to come out as. God. But the longer I drag this one out, the less-like-what-I-wanted it will be. So... Whatever. Sigh. I'll try to do better on the next one. I promise. Still, comments?