FIC: Loveless, "Like Ink on Paper"
Title: Like Ink on Paper
Series: Loveless
Pairing/Characters: Soubi, mentions of Seimei, Ritsuka, Kio
Words: 549
Rating: Gen
Summary: Soubi makes plans, for tomorrow.
Notes: Just a short experiment to try and find Soubi’s voice. Also kind of a speedfic (by my standards, anyway) that I managed to write in one sitting (shut up, that’s an achievement for me.) He was a lot easier to write than I thought he would be…which probably means I’m doing it wrong ;a;. It’s also set not long before Natsuo and Youji come to live with him, though that’s not really a huge part of the plot. Loveless is copyright to Yun Kouga.
There was a crack in the ceiling. Seimei had told him to get it fixed once, when he’d been lying on the bed as Soubi painted, but then he smiled in that way that meant he didn’t really care about what he’d just said. That was the last time he’d been in the apartment before…well. Soubi supposed he’d forgotten about it since then. It was a little longer than it had been, like it was straining to reach the light. There weren’t any water stains around it though, so at least it wasn’t a pressing concern. Not that Soubi had any plans of getting it fixed, anyway. Seimei wasn’t here to not care anymore, Ritsuka hardly ever stepped inside the door, and Kio’s eyes were too busy undressing him to notice a little leak in the roof. Nothing had to change, then.
Soubi flicked his cigarette ash over the balcony, not bothering to move from the spot where he’d slumped against the railing. He didn’t need to see it. The burnt up remains would go swirling away on the breeze, turned pure white from the heat, never touching a thing. They would be clean and hollow and lovely, like all things that burnt. Soubi didn’t need to see it.
He supposed he could call a repairman. About the ceiling. Someone would come, carrying tools and spackle and paint, making the kind of small talk that never failed to astonish him with its empty elegance, like a Noh drama where the actors vanished behind the same masks they’d always worn. Soubi liked small talk. It felt like an accomplishment, when a stranger told him about the weather or a holiday in Hokkaido. It was nice. But he wouldn’t call, because it was hot today, and he had meant to do laundry, and Kio might come by with a movie he would never watch, and there was a can of flat soda in the fridge that he didn’t want to throw away, because it was Ritsuka’s. Maybe tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he was going to get up early, and finish that painting for class, the one that was overdue because the green was never right, and the yellow was garish, and the lines were stilted and ugly. He was going to buy a plant, because Kio had been telling him how dull and lifeless his apartment was, and that just wasn’t the right environment for artists or children. Tomorrow he was going to smile when the mousy girl from his life drawing class complimented his work, and he was going to eat in the cafeteria, even if he wasn’t hungry, instead of smoking in the faculty parking lot. He was going to take the same bus all the other students from his school took, and then meet Ritsuka, and take him to an aquarium, maybe, or the museum. He was going to help him with his homework, not that Ritsuka ever needed it, because he was bright and punctual and painfully perfect, and then he would walk Ritsuka home, and come back to his apartment and do the laundry. Tomorrow. If it wasn’t hot.
Soubi crushed his cigarette out on the concrete, liking the decisive black line it made, and let it fall to the walkway below.
Maybe he would call Ritsuka.
Series: Loveless
Pairing/Characters: Soubi, mentions of Seimei, Ritsuka, Kio
Words: 549
Rating: Gen
Summary: Soubi makes plans, for tomorrow.
Notes: Just a short experiment to try and find Soubi’s voice. Also kind of a speedfic (by my standards, anyway) that I managed to write in one sitting (shut up, that’s an achievement for me.) He was a lot easier to write than I thought he would be…which probably means I’m doing it wrong ;a;. It’s also set not long before Natsuo and Youji come to live with him, though that’s not really a huge part of the plot. Loveless is copyright to Yun Kouga.
There was a crack in the ceiling. Seimei had told him to get it fixed once, when he’d been lying on the bed as Soubi painted, but then he smiled in that way that meant he didn’t really care about what he’d just said. That was the last time he’d been in the apartment before…well. Soubi supposed he’d forgotten about it since then. It was a little longer than it had been, like it was straining to reach the light. There weren’t any water stains around it though, so at least it wasn’t a pressing concern. Not that Soubi had any plans of getting it fixed, anyway. Seimei wasn’t here to not care anymore, Ritsuka hardly ever stepped inside the door, and Kio’s eyes were too busy undressing him to notice a little leak in the roof. Nothing had to change, then.
Soubi flicked his cigarette ash over the balcony, not bothering to move from the spot where he’d slumped against the railing. He didn’t need to see it. The burnt up remains would go swirling away on the breeze, turned pure white from the heat, never touching a thing. They would be clean and hollow and lovely, like all things that burnt. Soubi didn’t need to see it.
He supposed he could call a repairman. About the ceiling. Someone would come, carrying tools and spackle and paint, making the kind of small talk that never failed to astonish him with its empty elegance, like a Noh drama where the actors vanished behind the same masks they’d always worn. Soubi liked small talk. It felt like an accomplishment, when a stranger told him about the weather or a holiday in Hokkaido. It was nice. But he wouldn’t call, because it was hot today, and he had meant to do laundry, and Kio might come by with a movie he would never watch, and there was a can of flat soda in the fridge that he didn’t want to throw away, because it was Ritsuka’s. Maybe tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he was going to get up early, and finish that painting for class, the one that was overdue because the green was never right, and the yellow was garish, and the lines were stilted and ugly. He was going to buy a plant, because Kio had been telling him how dull and lifeless his apartment was, and that just wasn’t the right environment for artists or children. Tomorrow he was going to smile when the mousy girl from his life drawing class complimented his work, and he was going to eat in the cafeteria, even if he wasn’t hungry, instead of smoking in the faculty parking lot. He was going to take the same bus all the other students from his school took, and then meet Ritsuka, and take him to an aquarium, maybe, or the museum. He was going to help him with his homework, not that Ritsuka ever needed it, because he was bright and punctual and painfully perfect, and then he would walk Ritsuka home, and come back to his apartment and do the laundry. Tomorrow. If it wasn’t hot.
Soubi crushed his cigarette out on the concrete, liking the decisive black line it made, and let it fall to the walkway below.
Maybe he would call Ritsuka.