3 Drabblez.
I posted these on my Tumblr, but ah well. So I'm challenging myself to make a drabble a day, with themes/prompts here. Anyway, cause I realized I haven't updated this LJ for ages now, I guess I'll post the first three (as they're the only ones I have for now) here too.
Day One: Orange
“Is there anything that you don’t have a bad opinion about?”
This came out from her lips at their second coffee-date. Clearly he had botched a job at being cheerful. She minded his constant complaints; he complained about the weather, about her unpractical high-heeled shoes, about his life. He minded having to pretend he wasn’t negative; the weather was indeed foul and far too windy for anyone’s health, her high-heeled shoes made unnecessary noise and she visibly wobbled in them, his life was a big mess. The arrangement had somehow worked for them in a rather sick way, and after having a long argument ending in sarcasm and “we agree to disagree”, they were both satisfied with the promise of a second date.
The chat taking place under the big red-and-white parasol at that cafe had taken a turn into another argument. It started with her ordering a latte, his commenting on this cafe’s foul latte, and then her asking him the aforementioned question. He could see this type of conversation turning into a pattern should the dates continue, maybe even culminating into an all-out full fight one day which might very well be the end of their relationship. He thought about just ending it now before either of them committed into anything.
“N-“
But maybe not now.
“-yes, actually,” he changed his answer.
One sharp eyebrow rose higher than the other on her face. He always wanted to be able to do that. He had always failed whenever he tried it in front of the mirror.
“I don’t mind oranges much,” he blurted out to explain his previous statement.
“You don’t mind oranges much.” She wasn’t impressed.
He finished his coffee. “Yes, I don’t mind oranges much. And a few other things, but if I tell them all to you now we’d be out of conversation topics next week.”
Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Tell me next Thursday, then,” she said, setting her finished cup of coffee down and left him there, her orange dress billowing in the wind.
Day Two: Durian
“My mom told me that if you swim in a public swimming pool, you could get pregnant from the sperm swimming in there,” he said with an air of incredulity.
She snorted. “No fucking way.”
“That’s what I told her.” His lips quivered between bursting into laughter and trying to keep his cool. As an afterthought, he added, “Without the f-bomb, of course.”
“Mm. Your mom’s great, you know, but she’s like a pineapple,” she said with a sage-like attitude.
This time, he was the one who snorted. “Like, she looks scary on the outside?”
“Well, that too, but I was thinking about how she should be taken with a grain of salt.” She shuddered. The other time she forgot to wash a pineapple with salt, she got her tongue itchy for the rest of the day. It was not a pleasant experience.
“Oh,” he said rather sheepishly. “What am I like, then?”
She leaned back on her chair with her eyes narrowed, observing him. “Hm. You’re a durian.”
“A durian?”
“A durian. You know, you have your spiky hair and all. And you stink,” she said with finality. “But you know, durians are quite okay once you crack open the hard shell.”
He made quotation marks in the air with two fingers from each hand. “Quite okay?”
Nonchalantly, she nodded and confirmed him, “Yeah, quite okay.”
In all actuality, she thought durians were probably the best fruits ever, but she wouldn’t go and inflate his ego. Not today, when she had not the courage to say anything more. Maybe later, when they were a bit more mature and she was a bit more gutsy. Besides, she always thought that the more ripe a durian was, the more intoxicating it was.
Day Three: Bromance
Dan was greeted, when he entered his dorm room, by an exceptionally unusual view. It was rather too odd that it somewhat disconcerted him, though, and as he warily stepped in-he wasn’t too sure if it were some sick prank his roommate came up with-he asked in what he hoped to be a casual tone, “The fuck are you doing?”
That came out rather too surprised for his liking.
His roommate raised his head from the rag in his hand and nearly-spotless desk and answered, more nonchalant than Dan, “Cleaning.”
“Okay, Greg, bro. You never clean.”
Greg just rolled his eyes.
“Ever.”
Greg threw the rag exasperatedly. “Fine. Yeah. Whatever.” He kicked the rag half-heartedly before he slumped on his unmade bed.
This only made Dan wince a bit. “It’s Luce, isn’t it?”
“Said I was too slobby and uncaring and, oh God…” Greg’s voice trailed away in desperation, hands pulling his own hair.
Dan took out his cellphone and typed a short text message for his girlfriend. Then, he went to the clothes hanger and took Greg’s jacket. He threw it to him. “Right, put that on now.”
Greg was staring at him incredulously as Dan added, “We’re going drinking.”
“You have a date with Em.”
“Told her I can’t make it. Someone needs to make sure you don’t drown yourself. Besides…”
With a feeble grin, Greg looked at his faithful roommate and hopefully said, “Bros before hos?”
“She’s not a ho.”
But regardless of his own sharp tone, and the audible sigh following it, Dan took his car keys and did what he had to do for his roommate that evening.
So, like, hi again LJ.
Day One: Orange
“Is there anything that you don’t have a bad opinion about?”
This came out from her lips at their second coffee-date. Clearly he had botched a job at being cheerful. She minded his constant complaints; he complained about the weather, about her unpractical high-heeled shoes, about his life. He minded having to pretend he wasn’t negative; the weather was indeed foul and far too windy for anyone’s health, her high-heeled shoes made unnecessary noise and she visibly wobbled in them, his life was a big mess. The arrangement had somehow worked for them in a rather sick way, and after having a long argument ending in sarcasm and “we agree to disagree”, they were both satisfied with the promise of a second date.
The chat taking place under the big red-and-white parasol at that cafe had taken a turn into another argument. It started with her ordering a latte, his commenting on this cafe’s foul latte, and then her asking him the aforementioned question. He could see this type of conversation turning into a pattern should the dates continue, maybe even culminating into an all-out full fight one day which might very well be the end of their relationship. He thought about just ending it now before either of them committed into anything.
“N-“
But maybe not now.
“-yes, actually,” he changed his answer.
One sharp eyebrow rose higher than the other on her face. He always wanted to be able to do that. He had always failed whenever he tried it in front of the mirror.
“I don’t mind oranges much,” he blurted out to explain his previous statement.
“You don’t mind oranges much.” She wasn’t impressed.
He finished his coffee. “Yes, I don’t mind oranges much. And a few other things, but if I tell them all to you now we’d be out of conversation topics next week.”
Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Tell me next Thursday, then,” she said, setting her finished cup of coffee down and left him there, her orange dress billowing in the wind.
Day Two: Durian
“My mom told me that if you swim in a public swimming pool, you could get pregnant from the sperm swimming in there,” he said with an air of incredulity.
She snorted. “No fucking way.”
“That’s what I told her.” His lips quivered between bursting into laughter and trying to keep his cool. As an afterthought, he added, “Without the f-bomb, of course.”
“Mm. Your mom’s great, you know, but she’s like a pineapple,” she said with a sage-like attitude.
This time, he was the one who snorted. “Like, she looks scary on the outside?”
“Well, that too, but I was thinking about how she should be taken with a grain of salt.” She shuddered. The other time she forgot to wash a pineapple with salt, she got her tongue itchy for the rest of the day. It was not a pleasant experience.
“Oh,” he said rather sheepishly. “What am I like, then?”
She leaned back on her chair with her eyes narrowed, observing him. “Hm. You’re a durian.”
“A durian?”
“A durian. You know, you have your spiky hair and all. And you stink,” she said with finality. “But you know, durians are quite okay once you crack open the hard shell.”
He made quotation marks in the air with two fingers from each hand. “Quite okay?”
Nonchalantly, she nodded and confirmed him, “Yeah, quite okay.”
In all actuality, she thought durians were probably the best fruits ever, but she wouldn’t go and inflate his ego. Not today, when she had not the courage to say anything more. Maybe later, when they were a bit more mature and she was a bit more gutsy. Besides, she always thought that the more ripe a durian was, the more intoxicating it was.
Day Three: Bromance
Dan was greeted, when he entered his dorm room, by an exceptionally unusual view. It was rather too odd that it somewhat disconcerted him, though, and as he warily stepped in-he wasn’t too sure if it were some sick prank his roommate came up with-he asked in what he hoped to be a casual tone, “The fuck are you doing?”
That came out rather too surprised for his liking.
His roommate raised his head from the rag in his hand and nearly-spotless desk and answered, more nonchalant than Dan, “Cleaning.”
“Okay, Greg, bro. You never clean.”
Greg just rolled his eyes.
“Ever.”
Greg threw the rag exasperatedly. “Fine. Yeah. Whatever.” He kicked the rag half-heartedly before he slumped on his unmade bed.
This only made Dan wince a bit. “It’s Luce, isn’t it?”
“Said I was too slobby and uncaring and, oh God…” Greg’s voice trailed away in desperation, hands pulling his own hair.
Dan took out his cellphone and typed a short text message for his girlfriend. Then, he went to the clothes hanger and took Greg’s jacket. He threw it to him. “Right, put that on now.”
Greg was staring at him incredulously as Dan added, “We’re going drinking.”
“You have a date with Em.”
“Told her I can’t make it. Someone needs to make sure you don’t drown yourself. Besides…”
With a feeble grin, Greg looked at his faithful roommate and hopefully said, “Bros before hos?”
“She’s not a ho.”
But regardless of his own sharp tone, and the audible sigh following it, Dan took his car keys and did what he had to do for his roommate that evening.
So, like, hi again LJ.