Philophobia - Chapter 1
First let me say I am amazed this kind of community actually exists. :)
Title: Philophobia (Prologue)
Author:
thirdrated_star
Pairing: Reita / OFC (Yeah, I know)
Rating: PG for now, will go up later.
Warnings: None
Genre: Romance sprinkled with drama, humor and a tiny bit o'angst
Synopsis: She spent her days in her own head, and that was always just fine. Her reverie is suddenly interrupted by the combination of fear and want for a man who is just as withdrawn as she.
Disclaimer: I own no one in The GazettE or any other real life figure mentioned in this story. I do, however, own my female character :)
Author's notes: This was written after staying up all night, so I am not sure if it makes much sense yet (plus I haven't written fanfiction in ages). Then again, It's just a prologue.
“Out of all the things to be afraid of…”
It crossed her mind at least once a week. Really, she hadn’t much to fear until then; she’d lived in various countries where she didn’t speak the language or know her way, cheated death more then once, gotten into freak accidents, why this of all things?
The anxiety he created, it confounded her; she’d never been intimidated by another person before. The way her breathing was suddenly constricted when he entered the room, or the way she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts together when he spoke briefly to her. Until then, she had been unimpressed by men in more ways then one; it was never a problem to her.
He was entirely different, and because of this maddening paranoia it took her months to realize she actually cared for him. Crush was such a juvenile word, and love seemed too strong, she settled for ‘unusually attracted to’.
Avoidance was hard, when she saw him more then her own family. She started to wonder if working in the music industry was such a good idea, but when it came down to it she wouldn’t trade a single day. She had done and seen more whilst being involved in this then ever before in her short life, and that was saying something considering where she’d been.
A girl of 5’5, with lanky arms and pixie haircut, shorter in the back then in the front; her close lipped smiles made her appear impish and the curiosity she always carried evident in the clear pools of her wide eyes. She’d spent most of her life traveling with her father, a stereotypical Japanese business man always on the go. She’d been mostly shifting between Tokyo and NYC.
She didn’t know what in adulthood had persuaded her to pick Japan over the array of other places she had seen. Perhaps she felt obligated to her heritage, or thought it would make her family happy. She did know, however, that if you asked her where home was she wouldn’t be able to answer.
She didn’t question it as much as she used to, because she had other things on her mind, particularly her musings of why she felt deeply connected to a boy she was terrified of. “What could he possibly do? She always asked herself, and decided that he truly could not do her any real harm, she convinced herself of this, but would forget all about it the following day when all those words she’d practiced would get caught up in her throat and choke her silent.
It wasn’t all him, not in the slightest. Her mind was a mess of many things, and she quietly considered each one with care. She hardly found answers, but was still somehow content with how her emotions were handled. It didn’t seem to bother her that she was horrible at expressing herself; she’d still managed to befriend the other members of the band which he was apart of and the ones she worked side by side with. She was like the maidenly little sister that everyone would pat on the head as they passed.
Perhaps it was the fact he was the only one who didn’t seem to treat her that way, instead uncaring of much that she did. He himself was too busy being an enigma in his own right, considering ways to further mask his own thoughts. His want to separate himself and keep secrets reached far beyond that of his on-stage persona, it was who he tried to be constantly; or who he tried not to be.
Maybe that was everything, both the fear and the want. He didn’t go out of his way to figure her out like so many other people tend to do when they encounter a reserved being, and she understood for the first time why people did it to her. That is where the fear came in, because even if she didn’t know him, she knew what it was like to be him, and she hoped that his inner workings didn’t mirror her own. They weren’t as pretty as people thought them to be.
If only she could ask him.
~~~
I am indecisive about this story, so feedback would be greatly appreciated :)
Title: Philophobia (Prologue)
Author:
thirdrated_star
Pairing: Reita / OFC (Yeah, I know)
Rating: PG for now, will go up later.
Warnings: None
Genre: Romance sprinkled with drama, humor and a tiny bit o'angst
Synopsis: She spent her days in her own head, and that was always just fine. Her reverie is suddenly interrupted by the combination of fear and want for a man who is just as withdrawn as she.
Disclaimer: I own no one in The GazettE or any other real life figure mentioned in this story. I do, however, own my female character :)
Author's notes: This was written after staying up all night, so I am not sure if it makes much sense yet (plus I haven't written fanfiction in ages). Then again, It's just a prologue.
“Out of all the things to be afraid of…”
It crossed her mind at least once a week. Really, she hadn’t much to fear until then; she’d lived in various countries where she didn’t speak the language or know her way, cheated death more then once, gotten into freak accidents, why this of all things?
The anxiety he created, it confounded her; she’d never been intimidated by another person before. The way her breathing was suddenly constricted when he entered the room, or the way she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts together when he spoke briefly to her. Until then, she had been unimpressed by men in more ways then one; it was never a problem to her.
He was entirely different, and because of this maddening paranoia it took her months to realize she actually cared for him. Crush was such a juvenile word, and love seemed too strong, she settled for ‘unusually attracted to’.
Avoidance was hard, when she saw him more then her own family. She started to wonder if working in the music industry was such a good idea, but when it came down to it she wouldn’t trade a single day. She had done and seen more whilst being involved in this then ever before in her short life, and that was saying something considering where she’d been.
A girl of 5’5, with lanky arms and pixie haircut, shorter in the back then in the front; her close lipped smiles made her appear impish and the curiosity she always carried evident in the clear pools of her wide eyes. She’d spent most of her life traveling with her father, a stereotypical Japanese business man always on the go. She’d been mostly shifting between Tokyo and NYC.
She didn’t know what in adulthood had persuaded her to pick Japan over the array of other places she had seen. Perhaps she felt obligated to her heritage, or thought it would make her family happy. She did know, however, that if you asked her where home was she wouldn’t be able to answer.
She didn’t question it as much as she used to, because she had other things on her mind, particularly her musings of why she felt deeply connected to a boy she was terrified of. “What could he possibly do? She always asked herself, and decided that he truly could not do her any real harm, she convinced herself of this, but would forget all about it the following day when all those words she’d practiced would get caught up in her throat and choke her silent.
It wasn’t all him, not in the slightest. Her mind was a mess of many things, and she quietly considered each one with care. She hardly found answers, but was still somehow content with how her emotions were handled. It didn’t seem to bother her that she was horrible at expressing herself; she’d still managed to befriend the other members of the band which he was apart of and the ones she worked side by side with. She was like the maidenly little sister that everyone would pat on the head as they passed.
Perhaps it was the fact he was the only one who didn’t seem to treat her that way, instead uncaring of much that she did. He himself was too busy being an enigma in his own right, considering ways to further mask his own thoughts. His want to separate himself and keep secrets reached far beyond that of his on-stage persona, it was who he tried to be constantly; or who he tried not to be.
Maybe that was everything, both the fear and the want. He didn’t go out of his way to figure her out like so many other people tend to do when they encounter a reserved being, and she understood for the first time why people did it to her. That is where the fear came in, because even if she didn’t know him, she knew what it was like to be him, and she hoped that his inner workings didn’t mirror her own. They weren’t as pretty as people thought them to be.
If only she could ask him.
~~~
I am indecisive about this story, so feedback would be greatly appreciated :)