She
Title: She
Fandom: L'Arc~en~Ciel
Characters: Hyde/Megumi
Prompt: #85 - She
Word Count: 756
Rating: G - although there's implied stuff.
Summary: Well, it's about him. What do you think?
Author's Notes: Not sure I'm quite as pleased with this one.
She
To some people, she’s just his wife. To others, they think she’s the Yoko Onno of his band or at the very least to their fantasies about him. Depending on the week and their mood, to the rumors she’s either the mistreated housewife chained to the oven, the dictator and destroyer of his life, or the other half to a beautiful and perfect relationship. She is all of these ideas and roles, but none of them at the same time. She is always shifting and changing, sometimes complementing him and other times entirely clashing. But even those clashes feel like a good fit.
When she and he first became they, he had such a hard time leaving her. He always wanted to spend just a few more minutes on the phone. He’d give anything to spend just a little while longer holding hands. That longing seemed like such an enemy, but now he thinks everything would fall to pieces if it wasn’t there. Leaving is easy now. He doesn’t spend time sulking in private at the prospect of not seeing her for a while. He doesn’t dawdle about packing because he wants an excuse to stay a little longer or for her to ask him to stay, but just simply because he doesn’t want to be bothered with packing. But he also doesn’t get less annoyed or frustrated when she doesn’t pick up the phone the first time he calls, even if he’s calling at an unusual time from normal. He still writes songs and poems, some cheesy and others serious, when he starts to miss her more than usual. He still so juvenilely will rearrange the pillows in hotels so it feels like she’s beside him.
He used to wish things were different. He used to wish he could just give up his passion entirely, find a more boring occupation and stay with her all the time. He could imagine it. He’d wake up in the morning, she’d have breakfast ready already-the kids likely trying to convince her they were too sick to go to school-and she’d send him along his way to work. Then when he came home, the kids would be diligently doing their homework and she’d heat up the leftovers from dinner for him. It seemed so perfect then, but then the years went by and he realized that if he didn’t kill her, she’d kill him.
He loved her more than anything he had ever loved before, but he couldn’t imagine being with and around her all the time. Her cooking would get so damn boring when she started making the same recipes again and again. Her teasing about some of his habits, while sometimes did bother him when he wasn’t in the right mood, wouldn’t be as sweet and endearing. He could never find anything when she’d come in behind him and start moving things around to her liking and it was the topic of a few arguments throughout the years. It would be an all-out war between the two of them if they never spent time apart. But even the excuses and reasons that would be given to the authorities aside, he knew she would never be happy like that either.
She seemed like the type to fall into such a place to outsiders; that’s what made the rumors somewhat easy to believe for those that wanted to, after all. She was quiet, often didn’t speak unless she was already spoken to, and her smile was never anything but shy. But that was all they saw. He listened to her when she dominated a conversation with him and watched that smile take on so many different forms. She wasn’t a woman about to be pushed into anything even if she often twisted his arm into entertaining neighbors he had no real desire to spend too much time with. (And did he hate those nights. He often found bruises along his shins where she discretely kicked him under the table for saying something inappropriate.) Her world didn’t come to a crashing halt just because he was away. She had to adapt to him as he had to adapt with her, but just like she never had any control over him, he never had any control over her. She is his wife, but that’s only one hat she wears. She’s also one of his best friends, the mother of his child, his muse, and she is who she is. And there’s nothing he’d wish differently about any of that.
Fandom: L'Arc~en~Ciel
Characters: Hyde/Megumi
Prompt: #85 - She
Word Count: 756
Rating: G - although there's implied stuff.
Summary: Well, it's about him. What do you think?
Author's Notes: Not sure I'm quite as pleased with this one.
She
To some people, she’s just his wife. To others, they think she’s the Yoko Onno of his band or at the very least to their fantasies about him. Depending on the week and their mood, to the rumors she’s either the mistreated housewife chained to the oven, the dictator and destroyer of his life, or the other half to a beautiful and perfect relationship. She is all of these ideas and roles, but none of them at the same time. She is always shifting and changing, sometimes complementing him and other times entirely clashing. But even those clashes feel like a good fit.
When she and he first became they, he had such a hard time leaving her. He always wanted to spend just a few more minutes on the phone. He’d give anything to spend just a little while longer holding hands. That longing seemed like such an enemy, but now he thinks everything would fall to pieces if it wasn’t there. Leaving is easy now. He doesn’t spend time sulking in private at the prospect of not seeing her for a while. He doesn’t dawdle about packing because he wants an excuse to stay a little longer or for her to ask him to stay, but just simply because he doesn’t want to be bothered with packing. But he also doesn’t get less annoyed or frustrated when she doesn’t pick up the phone the first time he calls, even if he’s calling at an unusual time from normal. He still writes songs and poems, some cheesy and others serious, when he starts to miss her more than usual. He still so juvenilely will rearrange the pillows in hotels so it feels like she’s beside him.
He used to wish things were different. He used to wish he could just give up his passion entirely, find a more boring occupation and stay with her all the time. He could imagine it. He’d wake up in the morning, she’d have breakfast ready already-the kids likely trying to convince her they were too sick to go to school-and she’d send him along his way to work. Then when he came home, the kids would be diligently doing their homework and she’d heat up the leftovers from dinner for him. It seemed so perfect then, but then the years went by and he realized that if he didn’t kill her, she’d kill him.
He loved her more than anything he had ever loved before, but he couldn’t imagine being with and around her all the time. Her cooking would get so damn boring when she started making the same recipes again and again. Her teasing about some of his habits, while sometimes did bother him when he wasn’t in the right mood, wouldn’t be as sweet and endearing. He could never find anything when she’d come in behind him and start moving things around to her liking and it was the topic of a few arguments throughout the years. It would be an all-out war between the two of them if they never spent time apart. But even the excuses and reasons that would be given to the authorities aside, he knew she would never be happy like that either.
She seemed like the type to fall into such a place to outsiders; that’s what made the rumors somewhat easy to believe for those that wanted to, after all. She was quiet, often didn’t speak unless she was already spoken to, and her smile was never anything but shy. But that was all they saw. He listened to her when she dominated a conversation with him and watched that smile take on so many different forms. She wasn’t a woman about to be pushed into anything even if she often twisted his arm into entertaining neighbors he had no real desire to spend too much time with. (And did he hate those nights. He often found bruises along his shins where she discretely kicked him under the table for saying something inappropriate.) Her world didn’t come to a crashing halt just because he was away. She had to adapt to him as he had to adapt with her, but just like she never had any control over him, he never had any control over her. She is his wife, but that’s only one hat she wears. She’s also one of his best friends, the mother of his child, his muse, and she is who she is. And there’s nothing he’d wish differently about any of that.