fic, Ephemeral, Fruits Basket
Title: Ephemeral
Author: Shiegra
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Pairing: Mayuko
Rating: PG
Notes: Some spoilers for the end of the manga, and Akito.
Request meritjubet: http://community.livejournal.com/fic_on_demand/831240.html
Mayuko is gathering paper cuts.
They dot her fingertips with tiny lines of blood; every so often she’ll stop, wince and suck on them as she gains another like mark, then move on. The average student’s literacy can be frustrating at times, especially considering how spoiled she’d been with her last class.
Mostly prompted, if unconsciously, by the Sohmas, half the people in the class had either been competing with or striving to impress someone, and the content had skyrocketed. She used to laugh about it with Kana, though now her friend was far too busy.
It hurt a little, too see her so oblivious now-her smiles warm but lacking that luminous look she’d gained in Hatori’s presence. Mayuko suspects she’s inherited that glow, and it irritates her.
She’d sobbed all over the damn man, and at the time he’d seemed discomfited, though it was better than impersonally conscientious. Mayuko marked off a score in red ink and slid the paper into the finished pile, scowling.
She appeared to be losing friends left and right.
She’d met Akito with Shigure once, at some kind of fair-against all odds she’d looked at her face and laughed out loud. The dark haired girl had bristled a little, defensively, and Mayu had stumbled over her words to rectify the error-“so you’re what he was waiting for,” she said, and added, “that plotting little git.” And had surprised a smile. Evidently his slender, androgynous sweetheart knew him well.
He’d taken her aside for a moment and the curl of his mouth, edging on unkind, told her who he was going to mention before he got the first syllable out.
“No.” She said politely, “I haven’t heard from Hatori.”
He’d blinked and then grinned lazily. “Am I so easy to read?”
“When it comes to trying to irritate me.” She’d replied, and ducked back towards Akito, who’d gone to examine, with open curiosity, a collection of little dolls at a stall.
The hall outside her office is dark now; her car was stolen when she went out to drive home, and she missed the last bus. She’s more than tired, wearing down from the burden of her thoughts. There are knots in the back of her neck and she stretches and digs her fingers in, working out the quivering muscle.
After a minute Mayuko drops her hands back down, lifts another paper. She feels old and young and awkward-even Tohru, sweetly fumbling, got a better grasp on her love life. The thought, full of self pity, makes her snicker faintly and her fingers slip. Another one.
“Shit,” she mumbles, sticking the fingers, already welling with a thin line of red, into her mouth.
“Something wrong?” A familiar voice asks, and she twists around sharply, gawking.
“What are you doing here?” Mayu demands of Hatori, taking her cut fingers out of her mouth. He crosses the room in two long, easy steps and takes her hand.
“Been working too hard?” He asks quietly, and raises unreadable dark eyes to her face. “Shigure called and told me you’d let him borrow your car and needed a ride home.”
Two and two click together audibly and she hisses between her teeth, muttering something that’s uncomplimentary edging into profanity.
His eyebrows raise slightly. “Mm.” He said. “Whether or not I doubted the sequence of events, knowing Shigure, I thought the last was probably true.”
“That little-” She bites it off and makes a stab at graciousness, rising and reaching for her coat. “Yeah, I guess. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says, holding the door open for her, and sounds like he means it.
Author: Shiegra
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Pairing: Mayuko
Rating: PG
Notes: Some spoilers for the end of the manga, and Akito.
Request meritjubet: http://community.livejournal.com/fic_on_demand/831240.html
Mayuko is gathering paper cuts.
They dot her fingertips with tiny lines of blood; every so often she’ll stop, wince and suck on them as she gains another like mark, then move on. The average student’s literacy can be frustrating at times, especially considering how spoiled she’d been with her last class.
Mostly prompted, if unconsciously, by the Sohmas, half the people in the class had either been competing with or striving to impress someone, and the content had skyrocketed. She used to laugh about it with Kana, though now her friend was far too busy.
It hurt a little, too see her so oblivious now-her smiles warm but lacking that luminous look she’d gained in Hatori’s presence. Mayuko suspects she’s inherited that glow, and it irritates her.
She’d sobbed all over the damn man, and at the time he’d seemed discomfited, though it was better than impersonally conscientious. Mayuko marked off a score in red ink and slid the paper into the finished pile, scowling.
She appeared to be losing friends left and right.
She’d met Akito with Shigure once, at some kind of fair-against all odds she’d looked at her face and laughed out loud. The dark haired girl had bristled a little, defensively, and Mayu had stumbled over her words to rectify the error-“so you’re what he was waiting for,” she said, and added, “that plotting little git.” And had surprised a smile. Evidently his slender, androgynous sweetheart knew him well.
He’d taken her aside for a moment and the curl of his mouth, edging on unkind, told her who he was going to mention before he got the first syllable out.
“No.” She said politely, “I haven’t heard from Hatori.”
He’d blinked and then grinned lazily. “Am I so easy to read?”
“When it comes to trying to irritate me.” She’d replied, and ducked back towards Akito, who’d gone to examine, with open curiosity, a collection of little dolls at a stall.
The hall outside her office is dark now; her car was stolen when she went out to drive home, and she missed the last bus. She’s more than tired, wearing down from the burden of her thoughts. There are knots in the back of her neck and she stretches and digs her fingers in, working out the quivering muscle.
After a minute Mayuko drops her hands back down, lifts another paper. She feels old and young and awkward-even Tohru, sweetly fumbling, got a better grasp on her love life. The thought, full of self pity, makes her snicker faintly and her fingers slip. Another one.
“Shit,” she mumbles, sticking the fingers, already welling with a thin line of red, into her mouth.
“Something wrong?” A familiar voice asks, and she twists around sharply, gawking.
“What are you doing here?” Mayu demands of Hatori, taking her cut fingers out of her mouth. He crosses the room in two long, easy steps and takes her hand.
“Been working too hard?” He asks quietly, and raises unreadable dark eyes to her face. “Shigure called and told me you’d let him borrow your car and needed a ride home.”
Two and two click together audibly and she hisses between her teeth, muttering something that’s uncomplimentary edging into profanity.
His eyebrows raise slightly. “Mm.” He said. “Whether or not I doubted the sequence of events, knowing Shigure, I thought the last was probably true.”
“That little-” She bites it off and makes a stab at graciousness, rising and reaching for her coat. “Yeah, I guess. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says, holding the door open for her, and sounds like he means it.