Of Rain and Remorse
Title: Of Rain and Remorse
Fandom: Gurren Lagann
Pairing: Yoko/Kamina
Prompt: 11. Rainy Day Inferno
Word Count: 731
Genre: Romance with implied angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Everyone grieves in their own way. Some withdraw from society, some deny that any event worth grieving has even occurred, some need to be comforted and coddled by their friends and family, and some just need time to let everything soak in.
Warnings: Some language
Author's Notes: This is the third installment of my 16_candles fanfiction challenge. This one was written in the margins of my philosophy class essay that I had to read when I was at work, because I didn’t have any other papers to write on. Ironically enough, I think it turned out the best out of the three I’ve done so far XD; Please read, review, and enjoy!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kamina was a…unique character, to say the least. He was boisterous, passionate, driven, wear your heart on your sleeve, every day is a gift, grab life by the horns kind of guy. Everything he thought, everything he felt, was full expressed, whether he wanted it to be or not. So when he tried to “save face” or cover up his emotions, Yoko could always tell.
It had come as a shock that the man they’d innocently and unknowingly buried the day before was Kamina’s missing father. No one knew what to say, or what to do, other then stand there awkwardly and look at the unmovable leader of Team Gurren to see how he would react. Of course the man was troubled, pained, at knowing that the father he’d been look so hard for had been dead all that time. But for a man who just discovered his reason for wanting to come to the surface so desperately was dead, he recovered quickly. Unnaturally quickly.
He wasn’t acting any different, wolfing down three helpings at dinner and joking with the men sitting around the table, but there was no spark, no real energy in his actions. Everyone else, except maybe Simon, thought that Kamina must think it silly to cry over spilled milk, but after all the time she spent watching him, always out of the corner of her eye, it was easy to see that he wasn’t as carefree about the situation as he pretended to be.
It was raining after twilight had fallen, a rare occurrence in the desolate wasteland they called their home. Everyone was inside, playing cards, telling stories, or sitting around the camp fires. Everyone, that is, save for one blue-haired gentleman, who Yoko suspected was outside in the downpour.
“You’re going to get sick from being wet and cold out here like this.” Yoko commented, pulling herself up to sit next to Kamina atop his Gunman, already soaked through to the skin from the storm. Kamina looked ever worse off then her, his skin slick with water and covered in goose bumps.
“If it’s too cold and wet out here for me, then it’s a whole hell of a lot too cold and wet for you.” Kamina snapped in response, his eyes falling to her exposed mid-riff as he spoke. Of course she had to be freezing her scantily clad little ass off, even if she was wearing a scarf.
Yoko sighed, shielding her eyes from the rain with one of her hands. He wasn’t avoiding the matter at hand. In fact, he probably didn’t know what the matter at hand was. “You were acting just fine at dinner, stuffing yourself as usual.”
“I’m not acting.” Kamina glowered at the blurry stars hanging in the distance, folding his arms across his chest either in defiance or for warmth. “I can’t act,” he added sullenly.
“So we’ve all noticed,” the young woman snickered, shivering slightly as the rain stuck the long length of her ponytail against her back, “but we can tell there’s something wrong.” God, it was freezing.
“There’s nothing wrong.” He insisted stubbornly, glancing over at her shiver, but not commenting nor making any move to provide her with any sort of warmth.
Damn stubborn man. Yoko thought with an affectionate smile. “Well, whatever. I just wanted to let you know that I was here if you wanted to talk, but since you don’t…” The red head stood, rubbing her arms briskly as she made as if to climb down and go back inside. If he was going to stay outside and freeze to death, fine, but she needed to get warm. But before she could start her descent, she was stopped by a strong hand grasping one of hers.
“Sorry.” Kamina looked very awkward, his unoccupied hand raking through his wet hair, the strands sticking up for only seconds before being plastered to his head once more. “I don’t want to talk, but…”
His brain would probably explode if he had to actually ask. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Yoko sat back down next to him, a bit closer then before with their shoulders touching, holding his cold hand in her marginally warmer ones. Kamina’s hands were huge, easily able to engulf both hers in just one of his. She wondered if she was warming him up at all, but he answered that soon enough by drawing her under his wet cape. It was soaking wet, but it pressed them closer together, sharing much needed body heat.
The two sat in comfortable silence, Kamina looking out at the dark skies and the pounding rain without trying to speak or laugh or smile, and Yoko looking at him, not complaining about how she was shivering so, and let him grieve.
Fandom: Gurren Lagann
Pairing: Yoko/Kamina
Prompt: 11. Rainy Day Inferno
Word Count: 731
Genre: Romance with implied angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Everyone grieves in their own way. Some withdraw from society, some deny that any event worth grieving has even occurred, some need to be comforted and coddled by their friends and family, and some just need time to let everything soak in.
Warnings: Some language
Author's Notes: This is the third installment of my 16_candles fanfiction challenge. This one was written in the margins of my philosophy class essay that I had to read when I was at work, because I didn’t have any other papers to write on. Ironically enough, I think it turned out the best out of the three I’ve done so far XD; Please read, review, and enjoy!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kamina was a…unique character, to say the least. He was boisterous, passionate, driven, wear your heart on your sleeve, every day is a gift, grab life by the horns kind of guy. Everything he thought, everything he felt, was full expressed, whether he wanted it to be or not. So when he tried to “save face” or cover up his emotions, Yoko could always tell.
It had come as a shock that the man they’d innocently and unknowingly buried the day before was Kamina’s missing father. No one knew what to say, or what to do, other then stand there awkwardly and look at the unmovable leader of Team Gurren to see how he would react. Of course the man was troubled, pained, at knowing that the father he’d been look so hard for had been dead all that time. But for a man who just discovered his reason for wanting to come to the surface so desperately was dead, he recovered quickly. Unnaturally quickly.
He wasn’t acting any different, wolfing down three helpings at dinner and joking with the men sitting around the table, but there was no spark, no real energy in his actions. Everyone else, except maybe Simon, thought that Kamina must think it silly to cry over spilled milk, but after all the time she spent watching him, always out of the corner of her eye, it was easy to see that he wasn’t as carefree about the situation as he pretended to be.
It was raining after twilight had fallen, a rare occurrence in the desolate wasteland they called their home. Everyone was inside, playing cards, telling stories, or sitting around the camp fires. Everyone, that is, save for one blue-haired gentleman, who Yoko suspected was outside in the downpour.
“You’re going to get sick from being wet and cold out here like this.” Yoko commented, pulling herself up to sit next to Kamina atop his Gunman, already soaked through to the skin from the storm. Kamina looked ever worse off then her, his skin slick with water and covered in goose bumps.
“If it’s too cold and wet out here for me, then it’s a whole hell of a lot too cold and wet for you.” Kamina snapped in response, his eyes falling to her exposed mid-riff as he spoke. Of course she had to be freezing her scantily clad little ass off, even if she was wearing a scarf.
Yoko sighed, shielding her eyes from the rain with one of her hands. He wasn’t avoiding the matter at hand. In fact, he probably didn’t know what the matter at hand was. “You were acting just fine at dinner, stuffing yourself as usual.”
“I’m not acting.” Kamina glowered at the blurry stars hanging in the distance, folding his arms across his chest either in defiance or for warmth. “I can’t act,” he added sullenly.
“So we’ve all noticed,” the young woman snickered, shivering slightly as the rain stuck the long length of her ponytail against her back, “but we can tell there’s something wrong.” God, it was freezing.
“There’s nothing wrong.” He insisted stubbornly, glancing over at her shiver, but not commenting nor making any move to provide her with any sort of warmth.
Damn stubborn man. Yoko thought with an affectionate smile. “Well, whatever. I just wanted to let you know that I was here if you wanted to talk, but since you don’t…” The red head stood, rubbing her arms briskly as she made as if to climb down and go back inside. If he was going to stay outside and freeze to death, fine, but she needed to get warm. But before she could start her descent, she was stopped by a strong hand grasping one of hers.
“Sorry.” Kamina looked very awkward, his unoccupied hand raking through his wet hair, the strands sticking up for only seconds before being plastered to his head once more. “I don’t want to talk, but…”
His brain would probably explode if he had to actually ask. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Yoko sat back down next to him, a bit closer then before with their shoulders touching, holding his cold hand in her marginally warmer ones. Kamina’s hands were huge, easily able to engulf both hers in just one of his. She wondered if she was warming him up at all, but he answered that soon enough by drawing her under his wet cape. It was soaking wet, but it pressed them closer together, sharing much needed body heat.
The two sat in comfortable silence, Kamina looking out at the dark skies and the pounding rain without trying to speak or laugh or smile, and Yoko looking at him, not complaining about how she was shivering so, and let him grieve.