Story Desu
Title: Untitled Drabble
Author: earnestinberlin
Rating: PG
Pairing: MYVxBou
Summary: A drabble of sorts.
Disclaimer: Of course I own them. Nope. Never. Not Ever.
The sunshine outside the window burned his skin, heating it up to an annoying degree.
Miyavi woke up outside with a start, the result of his neighbors’ petty catfight just outside. He tried to drown out the noise of their complaints by burying his ears with the pillow, but no such luck was given to him. He sat up, the circles underneath his eyes darkening as the noise outside just escalated.
“Early in the fucking morning…” he was annoyed, shirtless and on the floor- having only a futon like all proper and sane Japanese inhabitant.
He scratched the back of his head in frustration, climbing to his feet not bothering to grab a shirt to cover himself with at least. The boy covered with tattoos dragged his feet to the window, rammed it open, stuck his naked upper body out for the world to see.
“Shut… the FUCKING UP, BITCHES!”
He looked below, the old lady with the loose screw and some forty-something woman seemed to have stopped their blabbering.
With that over and done with, Miyavi slipped back into his messy haven.
The playful air from the open window went in too, making the curtains fly and lightly tickling Miyavi’s outstretched arms and body. He went about using five minutes just for this stretching routine, to shake away the weariness from his bones. After his performance of bearing out skin to no one in particular, he directed himself to the bathroom. Bad breath forcing him to look for his toothbrush.
He went for the medicine drawer and missed the square little paper hanging by the side of his mirror. As he brushed the germs away his teeth and tongue, he closed the drawer. First meeting his reflection before finally catching the sight of the small envelope hanging for dear life.
Written in a fine, tidy handwriting on the front: “To My Super Miyavi”, each of the Japanese characters was written in different colored glitter pens.
The eccentric lad left his toothbrush inside his mouth and plucked the envelope. He pulled it close to his nose, the scent of strawberry infecting his system.
Miyavi opened it (“… Heart on the edges…”, Miyavi smirked),
J’et aime. Mahal Kita. Ich dich liebe. I love you.
So many languages but only one important meaning
You’re my heart and soul
anata totemo totemo daisuki desu
Anata ga irakute samishii =(
♥♥~Bou~♥♥
PS. Happy anniversary, Meev! Mwah!
Miyavi smiled with the toothbrush still in his mouth then pulled out a small line of Purikura pictures from the envelope. One of him hugging Bou from behind, another of Bou ‘punching the daylights out of him’. He leaned on one arm on the cold sink and laughed.
The sunshine outside the window, if he thinks about it, wasn't really that hot.
69696969696
A/N: Hahaha, I quite like this pairing.
Author: earnestinberlin
Rating: PG
Pairing: MYVxBou
Summary: A drabble of sorts.
Disclaimer: Of course I own them. Nope. Never. Not Ever.
The sunshine outside the window burned his skin, heating it up to an annoying degree.
Miyavi woke up outside with a start, the result of his neighbors’ petty catfight just outside. He tried to drown out the noise of their complaints by burying his ears with the pillow, but no such luck was given to him. He sat up, the circles underneath his eyes darkening as the noise outside just escalated.
“Early in the fucking morning…” he was annoyed, shirtless and on the floor- having only a futon like all proper and sane Japanese inhabitant.
He scratched the back of his head in frustration, climbing to his feet not bothering to grab a shirt to cover himself with at least. The boy covered with tattoos dragged his feet to the window, rammed it open, stuck his naked upper body out for the world to see.
“Shut… the FUCKING UP, BITCHES!”
He looked below, the old lady with the loose screw and some forty-something woman seemed to have stopped their blabbering.
With that over and done with, Miyavi slipped back into his messy haven.
The playful air from the open window went in too, making the curtains fly and lightly tickling Miyavi’s outstretched arms and body. He went about using five minutes just for this stretching routine, to shake away the weariness from his bones. After his performance of bearing out skin to no one in particular, he directed himself to the bathroom. Bad breath forcing him to look for his toothbrush.
He went for the medicine drawer and missed the square little paper hanging by the side of his mirror. As he brushed the germs away his teeth and tongue, he closed the drawer. First meeting his reflection before finally catching the sight of the small envelope hanging for dear life.
Written in a fine, tidy handwriting on the front: “To My Super Miyavi”, each of the Japanese characters was written in different colored glitter pens.
The eccentric lad left his toothbrush inside his mouth and plucked the envelope. He pulled it close to his nose, the scent of strawberry infecting his system.
Miyavi opened it (“… Heart on the edges…”, Miyavi smirked),
J’et aime. Mahal Kita. Ich dich liebe. I love you.
So many languages but only one important meaning
You’re my heart and soul
anata totemo totemo daisuki desu
Anata ga irakute samishii =(
♥♥~Bou~♥♥
PS. Happy anniversary, Meev! Mwah!
Miyavi smiled with the toothbrush still in his mouth then pulled out a small line of Purikura pictures from the envelope. One of him hugging Bou from behind, another of Bou ‘punching the daylights out of him’. He leaned on one arm on the cold sink and laughed.
The sunshine outside the window, if he thinks about it, wasn't really that hot.
69696969696
A/N: Hahaha, I quite like this pairing.