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minnuet-archive · 4 years

Text

Boring

Rating: G

Trigger Warnings: None (that I can think of- let me know if you find anything)

Word Count: 1,632

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this in response to the required prompt— ‘write about someone that’s opposite of you in any way’— that I needed to have along with my portfolio to get into an art high school for creative writing. I got in, so that’s good! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Bill doesn’t do much. Every day, at 6:30 AM, his alarm goes off and he gets out of bed. He puts on slacks, a white button-up, a colorful tie, and a blazer to match his slacks.

He then uses his beloved coffee maker to make instant Nescafe coffee, which isn’t good but does the job. He pulls open a drawer and takes a spoon out so he can add a spoonful of artificial sugar before throwing the used utensil in the sink.

Finally, he puts on his socks and Ecco dress shoes before grabbing his ‘#1 Employee’ mug (which he bought for himself) and walking out the door.

Today is no different than any other day for simple Bill. As he walks into his office, he waves at his coworkers with a bright smile. Not a single one of them seems nearly as happy as he does.

Sitting down at his desk, he opens an excel spreadsheet. Numbers are written and deleted, emails are sent and received, and he doesn’t mind a single second of it. When he looks up from his computer to take a sip of his coffee, he sees a woman standing outside his cubicle.

“Hi, Marianne! How’s your day treating you?”

She grins at him although he’s not quite sure why. “It’s treating me pretty well. How’s your day going?”

“Good as always!” Bill laughs lightly as he raises his coffee mug to show her how much coffee is helping his day. He wonders if she got the joke.

“That’s nice. Actually, I wanted to ask you something. A few friends of mine are going out to get a few drinks and some food after work. You want to come along?” Bill’s eyebrows furrow for a moment as he contemplates why she would ask him to come along. Suddenly, he remembers that he was planning on eating a microwave dinner of chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and corn.

He can’t help but sigh in content. “I wish I could. I’ve been looking forward to heating up my favorite frozen meal all day!”

Her face drops and she nods her head. “Have a good rest of your day, Bill.” When she left, she had looked a little bit disappointed, but Bill can’t put his finger on why.

Shrugging his shoulders, he looks back to his screen. Around the bottom of his computer, he sees a glowing purple light. Luminescent, it intrigues him. As he goes to move his computer, he hears the familiar chime of an email appearing in his inbox. His attention turns to the home page of his Gmail account once again and he dismisses the purple light without a second thought.

Emails later, he stands up to stretch, getting ready for his lunch break. He feels a vibration coming from his front pocket.

Bill pulls out his phone to get a better look at who’s calling. In place of a phone number, there’s a single word.

ADVENTURE

He squints at the letters, confused as to why ‘Adventure’ is listed as the phone number. After five whole seconds of careful consideration, he decides that it must be a spam call and presses the button to decline it.

Slipping his pen and pad of paper into his bag, he takes a few steps out of his cubicle. As the confidence he shows would suggest, this is his routine.

Heading to the break room, he whistles to the tune of It’s A Small World.

Eugene stands in the break room, making himself a cup of coffee. Bill grins widely at him and Eugene waves at him. “Hey, Bill,” Before Bill can respond, he adds on. “Oh! I have something for you if you want it.”

Walking over to Eugene, Bill tries to peek and see what he has for him. “I made muffins with my wife the other day and we didn’t finish them. They’re a little bit old, but I think they’re still good. Do you want one?”

His eyes are practically glowing as he stares at the muffin. “It looks amazing! I’d love to take it!” He looks up at him.

As Eugene holds his hand out for Bill to take the muffin, Bill smiles gently at him and looks into his eyes. They stop for a moment and Eugene’s eyes contain a sense of longing (not that Bill notices). Bill takes the muffin and stands up straight again.

“Thanks, Eugene!” He spins around to the table and sits down, peeling the saran wrap off the muffin.

Eugene looks like he has mixed feelings, but hides it well with a grin and walks out of the room. “Have a good day, Bill.”

As Bill continues to eat his (most likely several) day-old muffin, he remembers his cat at home and becomes visibly excited to see him later.

Is Earl missing me? I hope he isn’t too worried! Thinking of Earl, he pulls out his phone to check the kitty cam he had installed. When he opens the app, he finds Earl lying lazily atop a grey couch covered in white cat hair (Earl had claimed it as his own and there was no going back).

He smiles lightly at Earl before putting away his phone and grabbing an apple and a slice of leftover pizza from his bag. The pizza is cold, dry, and hard, but Bill doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems to enjoy it.

After eating the rest of his lunch, he sits back down at his desk, ready to work and do as much as he can.

Around 6:30 pm, as he exits the building, he begins to think once again of his microwave dinner at home.

A wondrous sunset of yellow, orange, pink, and purple is painted across the sky and Bill stops to appreciate it for a second. When he looks back to the street in front of him, he adjusts himself and starts walking towards the side of the street.

Despite not being built in any way, he has no trouble walking down narrow alleyways and waving at people surrounded by plumes of smoke.

As he marches down the sidewalk of Maple Street, approaching his house, something brushes against his leg. He turns to see what it was, but finds nothing. Confused, he turns back around and catches a glimpse of a small creature scampering around the corner.

The creature looked like it had been sparkling. It must have been the little guy’s collar. “Poor animal. I hope it finds a home!” He smiles sadly and begins to unlock the big glass door in front of his apartment complex.

He spots the clerk sitting at the front desk and acknowledges him with a wave before entering the elevator. He presses the number five and whistles to himself as the floor moves below him. The red carpet muffles the sound of his footsteps and he unlocks the last door he’ll need to for the rest of the day.

After heating up his microwave dinner and opening it up, he walks to his couch and plops himself down next to Earl.

He eats in silence, but not in sadness, as he scratches Earl’s neck and ears. Without warning, he hears a voice. “We’re supposed to leave you alone, but I just can’t. I need to know why.” Her (he assumes she’s a her) voice is velvety and smooth, but also has a whimsical sort of feeling.

For whatever reason, he sees a picture in his head of a quaint cottage made of soft light. Bill cranes his neck to see who could possibly be the owner of the voice and finds a woman with auburn hair down to her thighs.

Her eyes look as if they’re made of melted gold— and they very well may be— and her freckles are stunning. But Bill isn’t phased. “Why what?”

She rolls her eyes in annoyance. “We’ve spent all day giving you ways to get away from reality. We went through a lot of work to give someone with a boring life a chance to have fun. But you didn’t even try to cooperate! You literally declined a call to adventure. I just need to know why.”

He nods his head slightly, finally understanding why today had been so off. “My life not being your ideal life doesn’t make it boring.”

She looks taken aback. “What?”

“You called my life boring and said you tried to help give me a chance to have fun. The thing is, whether or not you agree, I don’t think my life is boring. I love my life. I don’t need help or a call to adventure.”

“I don’t understand.” She looks sincerely lost as she looks at him. In comparison, he seems sure of himself.

His eyes are soft and caring as he speaks. “I don’t hate my job. I love numbers so it’s great to be able to work with them all day. My microwave dinner might look gross to you, but I enjoy it.”

Her face is flooded with understanding and she makes an ‘oh’ shape with her mouth. “I think I get it now.”

“I’m not oblivious to Marianne and Eugene— I just don’t think I need love in my life. At least not that kind of love and at least not right now. It might not be your definition of a good life, but it’s mine and that’s all that matters.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder for a few seconds before taking it off again. “Okay. I think I understand. I hope you keep doing what makes you happy. I’ll make sure to come back and visit sometime.”

He nods his head. “I’m looking forward to it.” With that, she dissipates and the apartment is once more wrapped in silence.

Tag List: @just-perhaps @ettawritesnstudies @abalonetea @rhycantspell @sssifonix @antisocialdragonenby @holdup-pause @sunandshinee @writingamongthecoloredroses @monstrouswrites @gaydemiboy @uptown-worm

Let me know if you want to be added (or permanently added) or removed to the tag list! I just added a lot of close friends and people I would love to read my writing. =)

#verbose #vioaeon #writing #mine

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dailyserperior · 7 years

Note

Have any tips for starting a daily pokemon blog?

Ahhh i’m not sure if I’m a good person to ask but I can try to give some tips! (I think I’ve been asked this in the past too but my nets not really letting me go look right now)

Also this got a little long so I’m sorry ;v; Also i’d take everything I say with a grain of salt, I’m just a nervous person who loves serperior

But if you want to start a pokemon blog, defs pick a pokemon you not only love but love to draw! Doesn’t matter if it’s been done before, it hasn’t been done in your style! Everyone will add their own touch to how they draw. Like no lie one of my fav things is seeing how various people interpret a pokemon, heck even when they interpret YOUR pokemon (I may or may not have several things saved of people drawing Ex in their style cuz its so COOOLLLLLLL, let alone my serp folder)

Sometimes though the pokemon may be hard to draw and you may get frustrated. Like I know I could never run a sceptile blog like my friend does. ( @weekly-megasceptile ) I’ve drawn her sceptile a few times and hoo boy it wasn’t really that fun for me. I give Mint mad props for drawing that thing. My sister ( @occasionallymew ) has come to me a few times because she needed help drawing a pokemon or wasn’t sure on what a pokemon was. in her own words

“It’s why i have the bean [bean is how she and I refer to her mew Jesus]”

So if your favorite pokemon isn’t fun to draw for you you may end up just not having fun. And then you won’t want to run the blog.

That being said if your design is hard don’t think you can’t do it! draw it a bit before starting your blog to see how you like it and it’ll also get easier the more you do it.

Funny enough before I started drawing daily serperior I actually wasn’t that great at drawing snakes. I rarely did. I mostly draw humanoids and monsters and gore. So drawing a snake each day was interesting, more so because I like to draw Serperior closer to a python than how it canonically look (this is kinda the reason they are much rounder how I draw them)

But after drawing it for over 400 posts, I’ve gotten pretty good at it, I don’t really need to look at refs as much for how noodles curl, I can normally just figure it out on my own. I also no longer need to look at pictures of serperior when I’m drawing because I’ve just gotten so used to it. Like I know where to put the yellow curls, I know the husks.

That’s another thing though! this is more a general art tip than daily related, but don’t be afraid of using refs!! Don’t trace or copy directly but using a reference is a wonderful thing if you are unsure of something or the like. Like I have a folder on my laptop that is literally filled with pythons. Just lots and lots of snoots.

Another thing is a bit harder because I can get how discouraging it can be, but don’t feel down if you don’t get a lot of asks or interactions right off. And this may seem a bit mean, but don’t rely on asks to give you content for the blog. The internet can be a fickle place so you may not get the asks you want or many asks. When i started off I didn’t have too many asks if any so I just drew Serperior (this was before I decided to make it my character of excalibur) doing whatever, mostly it was related to Christmas because when I started I was in the middle of finals right before winter break. I was using this as a way to decompress each day after classes, and slowly i started to get some asks.

Depending on your frequency of update, the time you update, how you tag, and your sense of humor or the like, can affect if you get more asks. It also depends on how you interact with your asks.

Sometimes a post will sky rocket and then you get flooded. That’s kinda what happened with Daily Serperior, I can’t remember if it was the Gengar Plush post or the pizza post or even the move in post I had made, but something set off and I got asks a lot.

And don’t be afraid to turn your inbox off if you need to!! I know I’ve had to a few times, actually I had it off for a while, i had it reopened for the giveaway in case people had questions about it. I’ll be closing it again for a bit once I’ve finished the giveaway, because I get overwhelmed easily and it can lead to stress.

Also on the subject of asks, don’t be afraid to delete an ask that makes you nervous or uncomfortable!! Sadly not everyone is super chill, and occasionally you get some weird or bad asks. God am I no stranger to that. Honestly that’s the reason I’ve closed the ask box a few times, some people don’t like listening if you ask them to not send a specific thing. And sometimes it’ll get bad enough you want to quit (I’ve actually had a friend stop their daily blog because she got so tired of a certain type of ask). And if one person keeps sending don’t be afraid to block. I hate blocking but I’ve had to block a few blogs because they would send me asks time and time again on a subject I explicitly asked to not be sent because it makes me highly uncomfortable.

Now to get away from the negative,

All and all a daily blog is mostly about having fun. Interact with the community, send asks to other blogs ect.

Oh that reminds me, but depending on you, if you want to send in character asks it may be good to make a separate account not just a side blog.

With dailyserp i can’t actually follow back or ask as this account it’s a side blog. I do all my following and asks from my main @abunnydreamingofkisses

(so if you see that name in your notes or watcher list it’s me!) Or i send asks on Anon. I typically send anons to other blogs because I’m pretty shy. I’m always terrified to talk to people. I’m also just really bad at holding a conversation because I just have issues coming up with things to talk about. or I’m drawing and I’m hyperfocused. So if you plan to interact more it may be best to have a separate blog. I never expected to actually get any followers I just wanted to draw a doofy noodle, so I made it a side blog and I sometimes regret that but at the end of the day it’s easier for me.

Another thing is I know there are a number of discord chats you can potentially join! I personally don’t join group chats because it actually will spike my anxiety, I love people and I like to chat and makes jokes but due to a few poor experiences with group chats in the past I have to avoid them to keep from having panic attacks. But if you are able to maybe ask around see if you can’t join some. you’ll make friends most likely and memes are kinda a good way to get followers oddly enough (people like to laugh haha)

If Humor isn’t your thing maybe go for plot. I Know I follow a few plot based blogs and man it’s killer waiting for an update. Like over at @daily-poppy-primarina I adore the Brutus story line. I’ve got a thing for monstrous characters so learning about the dark primarina is really fun.

I know on serp I focus mainly on humor with a sprinkling of plot, but that’s mostly because almost all my asks are humor based. I actually do have a plot all written out in a notebook on this noodles past, and I even have a comic I keep meaning to finish up after I lost the original but lifes been in my way (hence my multi week hiatus)

also never be afraid to take a break. I think that has to be my last tip. I hate taking breaks but sometimes it’s needed. Sometimes you’ll get burnt out, sometimes you are over whelmed, sometimes you just feel like getting away. It happens. But don’t let it control you to the point you hate your blog. Take a step back take a breather. It’ll be okay.

At the end of the day it’s about you having fun creating a thing you want. Draw, Write, send memes to ect.

So I guess that’s all i have to say ;v; sorry for the length I’m really bad with being concise haha

#anonymous #ask #sorta snek #Mun rambles

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sapphyrelily · 7 years

Text

people were never meant to be alone

Inspired by a love song/non-love song by Jon Cozart and Dodie Clark

i. Semi

It’s beautiful tonight.

It seems odd, that I can still think this, even after all that’s happened, even after being left behind, like this.

But maybe that’s not quite true.

We've made our choices, and though circumstance has had a part in it too, the end result is the same.

I am here, and he isn’t.

The lights dancing across the water are captivating, breaking apart and coming back together, jolted sideways by the waves. Above the harbour, the streetlamps and lights of the buildings shine, bright and welcoming, even though it is close to nine.

I laugh a little, and the sound that escapes surprises even me – it sounds so bitter. But maybe that’s true. I do feel kind of bitter.

It’s lucky that everyone else is too caught up in each other to notice me.

It’s an odd habit, but I pat the railing before I step away, casting a last look at the small bit of sea invading the harbour, at the ships bobbing on it.

Tomorrow, one of those will set sail, a cruise bound for Thailand before looping around and returning here.

Here. That’s a funny thought.

Here, where I am, where we were supposed to be, together.

I’m rambling again.

But hey, at least I’m not like every other sappy couple here.

I am alone, a tourist, even though I am visiting all these sites populated with couples.

-----

My room is a small one – large enough for just me, maybe a squeeze if I were to share it.

The bottle of wine on the table seems to mock me – as does the single glass beside it. I do not look at them, but open the balcony door, leaning on the railing to regard the pool below.

I should put it out of mind and enjoy my stay here – my mini vacation, in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

Definitely not the most romantic, said to be the busiest and the least happy.

It doesn’t seem all that different from Japan, to me, except that the malls are more crowded, the weather decidedly more humid, and the people are louder.

It is probably a cultural thing, but it’s…peaceful.

It’s nice, I suppose, to be able to hide in a crowd like this, where the bustle drowns out your thoughts.

Where I don’t have to think about what others think of us, where I don’t have to pretend that it’s something it’s not.

“You are together? Congratulations.”

Ha.

Maybe once, Wakatoshi. But no longer.

I don’t quite know how to describe us, anymore. It’s a sort of limbo, and neither wants to make the first move to unbalance the equation.

So we keep pretending, I guess. We haven’t slept in the same bed in months, nor have we spoken of anything past usual pleasantries and maybe a joke or two.

It’s like we regressed back to being friends, or perhaps, distant acquaintances.

No, that’s not it. Still friends, but nothing close to what we shared before.

It’s sad.

I sigh and retreat back into the room, turning out the lights, the lightest click the only sound in the following darkness.

The covers are thick, still cool from the air-conditioning, and his voice follows me, a complaint replayed at the slightest touch of coolness.

I tuck myself in and shut his voice out, willing my brain to stop talking.

(I wonder, is this what it’s like, to grow apart?)

ii. Shirabu

“Okay, and again!”

You smile for the camera, tilting your head in the angle he likes best, letting the artificial wind push the hair back across your face. The camera clicks in quick succession, the director calls a halt, and you step out of the blinding lights.

Another day, another job done.

You hate the long hours and the lights, the fussing and twittering, but modelling is a job that pays well, despite all that it takes from you.

You feel your mind begin to drift, skipping down the forbidden path, and you force it back, slapping it back on track.

You thank the director, the photographer, the make-up artists… Everyone that you must greet gets their share of thanks before you can excuse yourself to the luxurious room they prepared for you.

Luxurious, but empty.

Your mind wanders again, to the thought of companionship in a sun-drenched place, of warm hearts and elbows rubbing, and easy conversations.

You have but one of those, when you took up this job, and left behind a chance at perhaps, something more.

You are alone, in the taxi, and you decide that maybe, it would be alright to entertain these thoughts. This notion, that you could have had a full bloom, when you already have a half-open bud.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting your foolish thinking, and you pull it out.

It’s funny, that the name on the screen matches the face you were just thinking about.

Typing back a quick reply, you hit Send before you realise what a plain, generic answer that was. The same kind of answer you are used to giving, the one that never merits a bigger response than that.

Something small, that you noticed only recently, that is probably why you are growing apart.

Huh. You were growing apart. From the one person who never stopped pursuing you in the past – yet it seems otherwise, now.

(When did he stop? When did he stop running, slowing past walking, coming to a crawl?)

(Will he decide to turn back?)

(Is it worth trying to salvage it?)

Your phone buzzes again, and you see bright photos, lovely scenery, coupled with a smile you know all too well.

Wish you were here! The caption reads, but you shake your head and smother a laugh.

He doesn’t, not really. He admitted so when he was drunk once, though he was quick to re-affirm that he adores you.

(Maybe not so soon, but someday, someday, surely.)

(Surely, he will leave.)

Sometimes you wish you could have returned that affection in the way that he wanted, but yours is a friendship turned relationship of convenience. There is no love lost between you, especially after so many years.

(Sometimes, you wish there was.)

But looking at the photo, you let yourself dream a little.

What would it have been like, if you had followed him?

iii. Semi

The streets are always so busy, no matter where I turn. Maybe it’s because I don’t know any non-tourist areas, but where would be the fun in pretending I was anything but a tourist?

My phone’s camera is awful, but good enough, and I manage to get shots of buildings with not too much sky in them – Satori never lets me live it down if there’s too much sky in a photo.

“Are you taking picture of the thing or of the sky?”

I turn my face down, hoping everyone else is minding their own business. It wouldn’t do for a tourist to be upset on a holiday, now, would it?

Except that I still am upset. By something found and lost, but mostly by the what-if of it all.

It would be easier, perhaps, to pretend. As I always do – as we always do, did.

And it’s not so hard, to pretend, when I can practically hear his voice yammering inside my head.

It’s only hard because I know it’ll never happen again.

And I can’t help it, I can’t help the thought that forms automatically, despite knowing that it would benefit me to not think about it.

I miss you.

iv. Shirabu

It’s quiet, but still a little busy – this is, after all, a city that hardly sleeps. The lights weaving together on the arches of the bridge are bright, but not blinding, the glow enough to set a mood.

You try not to glance around – left and right are couples strolling hand in hand, though there is the occasional single or a small family. It matters not who they are, but what they have – relationships, bonds, people they care about and to whom they can return after a long day.

You cannot say that you have the same luxury now.

You left your base, your home ground – the metaphorical nest. You stepped out and spread your wings, hoping the downdraft would lift and help you glide to the ground.

You have glided this far, and the winds are failing, the current dying away. You have not looked down – have never looked down, have been too trusting, too confident – and now, you are uncertain where you’d land.

Your phone is silent in your pocket, despite usually being the opposite – and that is answer enough.

You’ve landed somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere hostile, and you do not have a single person at your back to fall back on, to trust in.

(A barren land, desert and unforgiving sand, with neither water nor sustenance. A place where one will perish, for sure.)

Maybe…

Maybe you should’ve held on.

(The memory of an empty inbox, unsent drafts, cutting words tears at your heart.)

(A figure turned away, without a since glance back.)

(Dismissal.)

You look ahead and exhale through your mouth, trying not to crumple.

(Pretty pictures fold themselves away inside your mind, hiding in a box, sliding into a dark and dusty corner.)

v. Semi

I’m back.

Back here, at the waterfront, with the lights shining over the water, but this time, no boat in the harbour.

I can hear the soft murmuring of the couples at my back, and for the umpteenth time, I wonder, why am I doing this to myself?

(I’m not sure I’ll ever find an answer.)

But watching them, even the slightest glance, brings back floods of memories, remnants of times past, and it’s like they are happening anew.

A hearty laugh, a shock of red hair, hands pushing at mine, until his hands are on the controls instead. “Eita-kun, you suck so much at this. Let me get it.”

Within a minute, a large plush is in my arms, blocking my vision.

But I can hear his laugh from over it, and the unbridled joy in it makes me smile.

I can see an arcade from where I stand, and have to turn away, bite my lip, keep the emotion back.

“Aisle seat?”

“Nooo. Oh my goodness, you never watch movies from the side! There, we’re taking H-10 and 11. Right in the centre.”

“Satori–”

“Shh. It’ll be better, trust me.”

The movie theatre is on the opposite side of the mall. I start towards it, trying to keep my face blank, but I’m failing, falling.

“You’ve got a choice. Pick one.”

I look at both shirts, but neither of them impress me. He shoves one at me anyway, pushing me into the changing room, and I have to catch myself on the wall, but I’m laughing.

They were good times. That is for sure.

Hands swinging by each other, until finally one gives up and grabs a hold of the other, pinkies loosely intertwined.

“Eita?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

I have to cover my face for a moment, the memory is so strong.

A chaste kiss, lips lifted in a smile.

“Forever?”

“Always.”

But forever is shattered, like powdered glass, and there’s not enough of it left to fit in a stained-glass window.

Forever spins away on a breeze, and I watch it go, left behind with a half-hearted lie.

vi. Shirabu

Your fingers hover over the blackened screen, the train’s lights reflecting off of it.

You are hesitating.

You are reluctant.

It’s for good reason, you tell yourself, fingers clenching around the device, turning it over so you can’t see the screen.

But in the next moment, you have flipped it over again, unlocked it, and you stare at a background that only heightens your conflict.

A picture of the two of you, smiling broadly for the camera.

You still remember how it was taken, a giant cliché.

You are laughing, hard enough that he has to support you, because you are bent over, wheezing.

“Shirabu-san.”

There’s a lilt of happiness in his voice, a tad more than usual, and you look up, only for the camera shutter to go off.

You don’t bother to make him delete it, because your good mood remains – and also because you like the way he tries to preserve memories like this, sometimes.

His arm around your waist is warm, as is the sun reflecting off your smiles in the photo.

You bite your lip as you stare at the screen, chest aching horribly.

You open your messaging app, stare at the latest message, and once again, exit without sending anything new.

Your home screen wallpaper mocks you, and you have a sudden urge to change it.

Don’t, a voice inside you whispers, but you shake it off and open your photo gallery.

It is so difficult to pick something, anything, but you settle on a patch of blooming flowers, lit by the setting sun, even though you are breaking apart.

You know better.

This is the way to redemption, and to salvaging what’s left of your…friendship.

You are better, smarter than this. You should know, you should know that the only way to get over this is to leave it alone.

You do know.

And that is why you slip your phone into your bag, watching the flashing lights for the upcoming train station instead of trying to reply, because you only make things worse when you speak.

vii. Meeting

Two figures headed in the same direction, paths bifurcating at the casino. They almost don’t notice each other, both caught up in their own world, in their haze of distraction.

Neither of them really knows who notices the other first – but they agree that it started with the fireworks.

The fireworks, that go off in the amusement park at eight thirty, a light show that most people stop to stare at.

It is in the aftermath – or perhaps, even the middle of it, the glow lighting the faces beneath – that they stop, and their eyes meet.

They promptly look away, neither of them acknowledging the other, still half in a daze, still hoping, dreaming, on their own.

But the fireworks die away, and the world begins moving again, except for the two stationary figures, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

One of them does move – a shake of his head, a wry smile – turning away. Everything he does screams his belief that he is seeing things, and he will not entertain it.

And the other – it is his turn, his move, and he takes the first step.

The first lifting and dropping of a foot, and then another, and another, before his shoes are clicking rapidly across the concrete, catching up, and a hand placed on a shoulder.

A whisper of a name – in disbelief, questioning, and the one who turned away first – he blinks slowly, as if waking from a dream.

A curious, wondrous smile lifts his lips, and he greets the other in a sighing cadence.

Hello.

viii. Catching up

They go back to his room, because it is smaller, quieter, more private.

Small pleasantries, an exchange of information – what they are doing on a small island, so far from their homeland, their jobs, their lives, what they have done since graduation and losing touch.

Neither of them speak about the golden band resting on the table, or the silver one hanging around a neck. It’s as if they recognise the pain in each other’s eyes, and there is a mutual understanding, though they have never agreed on much, before.

The hour is late when their mouths are dry, and one of them stands to leave. The other is just as quick to catch his sleeve, gently asking him to stay.

It’s late. I’ll lend you some clothes.

It is odd, but he has no reason to refuse, not when he doesn’t have to work the next day. And maybe…

Maybe he does need some form of companionship, if only in the form of someone he used to dislike so much.

Maybe, it would be alright to stay.

(Just for a bit.)

ix. Quiet moments

The bed is large enough for the two of them, and they lie on opposing sides, facing away from each other.

But sleep does not come easily, and in the midst of tossing and turning, they begin to bicker.

It’s almost nostalgic, the jibes and insults thrown, but neither let up, and they end up poking and kicking each other under the blanket as if they were still in high school.

Nobody knows who won, but lying there in the relative quiet, with the air-conditioning as white noise, it’s almost easy to pretend that they are both okay.

But silence is a tricky thing, like the molten glass that glassblowers mould.

Who are you engaged to?

Is that a promise ring?

They laugh at their overlapping words. They’ve always been too similar, in some ways.

x. Secrets

They argue over who would start first, until one caves.

It was Satori.

Was?

I don’t know, but I don’t think we are together any more. Not in that sense, at least.

A low hum, understanding, accepting.

Non-judgemental.

You’re right, you know.

What?

This. It’s sort of like a promise ring. He lets the ring fall from jointless fingers; it clinks against the chain, falling silent against the bed. But promises are always broken.

A beat of silence – he takes that as agreement, but then the other begins speaking again.

Not true. Promises are what you make them.

He snorts. Maybe so, but not this one. This was always in a limbo and ready to be broken.

Oh?

Yeah.

A lengthier silence, and he stares at the ceiling, waiting, waiting, for him to ask.

He doesn’t.

You’re not curious? He can’t help himself – he can’t imagine anyone not wanting to pry. About who the other ring belongs to?

You’d tell me, if you wanted. His voice is so trusting – it’s not fair.

(It’s plain to see who has matured more over the years.)

(He doesn’t like it.)

Tsutomu has the other ring.

It feels like an admission, a soft, whispered thing, yet also a loud, shouted thing – a gunshot in the darkness, a secret that he doesn’t want to bring to light.

And?

He huffs. I thought you weren’t going to pry.

I know you, and you want to tell me. You just need a push.

He gets a kick for his troubles, but hears a sigh, and eventually, the other starts talking.

xi. Moving on

The funny thing about people, is how they pretend they can survive alone, when really, they need support at least some of the time.

That is how humans work, as does the beautiful-ridiculous thing called companionship.

They talk through the night, till the sun peeks through the bottom of the curtains, and that is when they decide to sleep.

When they wake, another day is gone, but the burden on their hearts has eased.

It feels like they are going to go back to pretending they hate each other, go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.

But one of them makes a tiny offer, and the other accepts, and then they are wandering the mall until closing time, trading banter as they walk back along the bridge.

It’s almost friendly, and they trade numbers, a teasing parting of ways.

Call me.

You sound desperate.

I mean when you need to talk, brat.

Hmm, no.

You are ridiculous.

You are absurd.

Pain-in-the-ass.

Naggy.

I’m trying to be nice.

Don’t.

Fine.

They turn away, but glance back, and burst out laughing.

They are broken, and patched up, their repairs messy but feasible for the moment.

They are flightless birds, but they have learnt to walk, and maybe, run.

They smile at each other a last time and part ways, hearts lighter than they were before.

Romance is a lie, but you can find companionship in the oddest places.

#semi eita #shirabu kenjirou #semishira #past tensemi #past shiragoshi #my writing #well this isn't half as angsty as i thought it would be #i suppose that's good #haikyuu!!

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