The Little Things [4b/?]
anonymous
November 21 2009, 06:20:52 UTC
“Greece-san, this is…” He trailed off, as the nation held out the other end of the string towards him. A part of him had finally managed to connect the dots and work out what seemed to be happening; at the same time, however, he could help but continue to be confused. Almost as if he had misinterpreted something quite obvious.
Perhaps he does not know exactly what it symbolises…
Yes, somehow, such an explanation could only work for so long before it became obsolete, and Japan could not even remember when he had begun to argue with himself over such foolish matters; they enjoyed each other’s company, what was the point of recalling each and every detail, trying to find some hidden meaning that did not exist (most likely, though at times-)?
Forcing such thoughts out of his mind, Japan took the offered string and, after another moment, tied it around Greece’s pinkie, just as the brunet had done. He pulled back while Greece took the chance to look at the small bow, a cat taking residence on the top of his head while another draped itself over his left shoulder. Both watched Japan, but he ignored them (tried to, at least) as, while seemingly bored, the black and white kitten crawled out of his lap and pawed at the red string.
Connected.
Japan drew his knees to his chest, staring down at his hand. The sky darkened around them, the final rays of daylight near-gone, and Greece spoke up, breaking the silence between them.
“… An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,” he said it slowly, as if to make sure of his words.
Japan twisted around at this, while long shadows seemed to merge as one, sun practically gone from sight; “Did you hear that from China-san?”
A brief nod of affirmation, before a sudden thought seemed to occur to Greece and he turned to face the island nation; he held up his hand so that the string could be seen, “Is it no good?”
“I don’t-” Japan coughed into his sleeve, as if it would give him enough time to work out an answer he could live with, “-I mean, it would become quite an inconvenience if people were to be literally connected like so.” He raised his own hand as an example, as the kitten between them continued to paw at its newfound toy.
“Just this once, then…” Another nod of the head, as if coming to some sort of agreement Japan had not been completely aware of. Leaning back, Greece pressed his lips against the base of his pinkie, where the red string was tied; Japan turned away quickly, before he could be caught staring.
“The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break,” he breathed, repeating words he had heard a long time ago, even as the string around his finger tugged lightly and the kitten meowed in aggravation, struggling to get out of the mess it had made.
“Hm?”
Japan could practically feel Greece’s eyes watching him, curious, and could only shake his head, turning to face the other was a small smile; “It is nothing, Greece-san. I was just thinking.”
The Little Things [5/?]
anonymous
November 21 2009, 06:27:05 UTC
five: tracing
It seemed, no matter how hard he tried, Japan could not bring himself to make eye contact for any more than a few seconds. It was so rude, after all, to stare at whomever he happened to be conversing with, but it seemed such rules did not apply to other parts of the world. America, at least, found it amusing and England was used to it (decided that it was far too much work to try and help the other with something insignificant), but at the same time he could not help but feel awkward over the entire matter.
Though Japan could only wonder why the thought had occurred to him so suddenly, as the cat in his hands raised a paw and swiped it at his face (without claws, thankfully). Bemused, he set her back on the ground and she wandered off to where the other cats had gathered.
“That’s her way of showing affection.”
The Asian glanced to his side at the sound of Greece’s matter-of-fact tone, though the taller nation had both eyes closed, as he lay back on the grassy hill they occupied. Touching the spot where the paw had hit him, Japan could only shrug; “I suppose there are different ways to express such feelings, even for cats.”
A laugh this, though it did not seem to stem directly from his words. Japan, for his part, directed his gaze to the cloudless sky; it was nice to have a moment to themselves, after all, without politics and agreements, signing papers or reading lengthy documents to keep them occupied.
It was quiet here - just them, cats and nature - although, when one focused long enough, the hum of the city could still be heard (and if Japan wanted, really wanted to, he could hear the murmur of his people). Greece had, inevitably, drifted off once more, as his cats joined him; Japan watched with some amusement as they crawled onto the sleeping nation, leaving only his face uncovered.
They could remain like that for hours, if he allowed it. The weather was fair, typical for spring, and life seemed to go at its own pace, neither pushed nor pulled by external forces.
The cat that had swiped at his face seemed to stare at him from her position on Greece’s stomach, and Japan could only return the look blankly; the cats that followed Greece everywhere were, no doubt, a little stranger than the usual. Though, it could have merely been nothing more than Japan over exaggerating a small matter out of boredom.
His eyes are like that, too, Japan mused, reaching over, as if to touch the sleeping nation’s hand, but stopping himself halfway. He drew back with a small sigh; occasionally prying and questioning, digging deeper out of mere curiosity, yet not overbearing. Is that even possible?
That, and Greece could hold another’s gaze as if it were natural, as if there was nothing awkward with the action. Japan felt he would never understand how or why, as he laced his fingers together and watched as the sky began to turn a shade of orange with the approach of sunset. A tabby nudged him and he allowed it to crawl into his lap with a satisfied purr.
But what did it matter? It was alright, like this.
It was only when the sun had set completely, night sky a murky grey with the barest tinge of blue that Japan chose to wake his companion. He received a murmur in reply and a lazy swat of the hand when he gave the taller nation a firm prod in the shoulder, before Greece finally opened his eyes to stare up at the other. Japan pulled back quickly, apology on his lips even as the Mediterranean nation took a hold of his wrist.
Another look - somewhat confused - even as Japan picked himself up; Greece had yet to let go and it only seemed right to offer a hand. The cats, perhaps irked by their loss of a bed, gathered by their feet as Japan pulled the other up. Their hands remained linked for a moment longer, Japan opting to glance at the cats below as Greece looked on with the barest tilt of the head, before he let go, allowing their hands to fall back to their sides.
Greece bent down, picking up the first three cats within his reach, placing one in Japan’s arms before the other could work out what was happening. He stared down at the feline, who swiped at his face in reply, as Greece tugged lightly at his sleeve and they made the slow trek back to his house.
The Little Things [6/?]
anonymous
November 21 2009, 06:31:26 UTC
six: a moment for you (even if years pass)
Japan sat up on the futon as he tugged his clothes back into place, while Greece watched on with half-lidded eyes. No matter how many years passed, the island nation could not help but be this way (modest, always careful of his words, and just… himself) but Greece knew he would never have it any other way. The murmur of life was muffled by the walls around them, closed windows keeping the night drafts out; a time and place where it seemed only they existed.
Then, for a single moment, despite how brief, Greece thought the other nation was about to stand and leave the room entirely, though it had not been something he had done in recent years. Even as he told himself that, Greece could only reach forward, while a small part of him questioned just how real this moment was - now now now, caught in the line between reality and dreams - and what it meant.
Silence.
Japan started a little at the light touch, even as Greece fought to remain awake. The island nation smiled at the gesture (affection, fondness, love- did words really matter to describe what was between them? Its existence was real, but, at the same time, completely intangible) and he lay back down. He rolled over, closer, as Greece draped an arm around the other’s smaller frame. They remained this way, embraced in warmth that was real and comforting, words unnecessary.
One hundred and ten years, Greece recalled, almost wistfully. It had been a long time - and yet not, when one considered their very existence - since the start of foreign relations between the two. With it came a steady friendship that had, at some point over the years, developed into something more. They didn’t speak of it, though; didn’t feel the need to, content to leave it as it was.
So while their people celebrated the anniversary - a remembrance of their ties through cultural exhibits - the pair had spent the day like any other: cats, small talk and long periods of silence as they merely enjoyed the company. Each moment was special, after all, to be cherished no matter how insignificant; because even if they lived forever, both present and past (moments without fighting, without pain and frustration) left its mark for all eternity. And yet it was so easily forgettable.
Japan shifted, waking Greece, as the island nation raised his hands to brush stray strands of hair out of the other’s face. Their eyes met and Japan offered a small smile, allowing himself a moment to be selfish; to indulge in thoughts and matters that never spoke words, because Greece would know - knew, in fact - though maybe, one day, he would no longer be restrained by certain views believed for so long.
Until then, he took the chance for what it was worth. Words broke the silence, truth undeniable:
“I love you. I love you…”
A murmur in the night, moonlight obscured, yet not completely swathed in darkness. Greece smiled, aware of how difficult it was for the other nation to freely express himself at times, even as Japan tugged him closer for a kiss, fingers tangling into hair.
Hands trailed lightly against skin, individual thoughts and feelings almost palpable as they took the chance to just be. Because it really was just them, in this place (this moment) that saw and heard nothing; by morning it would be as if it had never truly occurred - a dream, a wish, though three simple words would be whispered once more, in reassurance before it faded into obscurity, left as a memory - but they knew, would always know.
Greece would go outside to greet another day; the chill of dawn enough to keep him awake, questions and observations his form of company. Then Japan would join him, and they would watch the sun rise together. Words could come later (one could only guess what they would talk about) but, for now, it was enough.
Re: The Little Things [6/?]
anonymous
November 21 2009, 09:09:14 UTC
Anon, my love for you has reached impossible levels. You make Greece and Japan so themselves, so subdued and yet so vibrant, so utterly perfect for each other, that I fall in love with them all over again every time you update this fill. This fic should seriously be shown to anyone who's interested in Greece/Japan and even those who aren't.
Please, please do deanon this in the future, so that I can properly worship you.
The Little Things [7a/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:24:44 UTC
Hm, maybe I should have quit while I was ahead. Not to say these are bad, but… uh, I don’t know if there’s any real way to explain it. Also, part eight was longer than expected and sort of… I don’t know. I had the idea hanging around for a while, and even though it’s post WW2, it doesn’t really touch any real issues, due to me being, uh… yeah. Think I’ll just shut up now.
In any case, thanks for the continued support, guys~ I’ll try to be less fail-tastic next time.
------
seven: rainy days, rainy days
Fumbling with the sleeve of his coat for a moment, Japan squeezed the material to rid of the water it contained. Completely drenched, he could only berate himself for not being prepared for the downpour, even if it had been unexpected. Perhaps, he told himself, it was time to stop trying to calculate how quickly one could walk from one place to another, as if in hope the weather would continue to favour that individual.
Days like these, he had come to realise, often occurred when he thought in such a manner. It made next to no sense, anyway.
He watched as a couple of students dashed by, school bags held over their heads in a useless attempt to ward the rain away: that was always a possible situation to the current problem, as he was already soaked to the bone, clothes heavy with water.
Yet, Japan knew that he could never do that, as the disgruntled cats gathered by his feet reminded him of who he was with. Greece was preoccupied enough as it was, though it was a wonder how he managed to actually keep track of all his cats; you get used to it, he had once said with a shrug (though the question was never asked out loud).
Japan stepped closer to where the rain fell, as he tried to calculate the distance between where they stood - huddled under the meagre shelter of a bus stop - and the nearest convenience store. An umbrella was a good idea, after all; if not just for them (already completely drenched, but still-), then for the cats. If that even made sense, though Japan was certain it did not. Besides that, it did not look like the rain was about to stop anytime soon, and they could not merely wait for it to cease.
It was purely common sense, at this point; his hands were freezing, almost completely numb, and he was certain Greece was in a similar position. The cats as well, he remembered, would appreciate getting out from the rain as soon as possible.
“Japan?”
At the sound of his name, the island nation snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face Greece, who remained crouching, practically covered in half-drenched, clearly irate cats. Instinctively, he gave a short bow in reply; “I apologise for this.”
“It was unexpected,” Greece said, standing up carefully as the cats continued to cling to him. He did not seem unduly worried with his position, or the fact that had nearly spent the last ten minutes under the same bus shelter.
Japan shifted on his feet, while the few cats on the ground circled his feet, as if he would somehow protect them from the rain. He resisted the urge to bend down and pick up as many as he could, as his current plan of action would be hindered by such actions. Instead, he gave another bow, running the course of events in his mind once more.
“I know this may seem rude of me, but if you do not mind waiting here for a minute,” he pondered over his words, before ploughing on, “I will return as soon as I have acquired an umbrella.” He considered the possibility of apologising again, but suppressed the urge.
The Little Things [7b/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:32:28 UTC
Greece reached forward, touching his hand lightly (cold, so cold; but they both were, and-) so that Japan glanced back up; “That’s fine.”
Their eyes met for mere seconds before the island nation turned away, apology muffled as he instead took one last, long look at the street before them. Most of his people were too busy to give them a second glance, huddled under umbrellas of muted colours as they hurried from one destination to another, and he was glad for it.
With one final glance back at the other nation - and making absolutely sure none of the cats were in his way prior to moving - Japan ran from under the shelter, careful not to collide with anyone in his haste.
-pitter-patter-pitter-patter-
The rain fell - down, always down - as it slid off umbrellas and onto the footpath; down his back, clothes heavy and already completely drenched. As the electronic doors slid open, allowing him entrance, Japan ran a hand through his hair uselessly. Droplets fell onto once-dry tiles, while the person at the counter murmured a greeting, which he returned briefly before turning back to the task at hand.
When he returned to the bus stop, Japan could not completely stifle his laughter as he caught sight of Greece. Whether it was the cold finally getting to him, or the fact that his clothes were highly uncomfortable (or a mixture of both factors, really), the fact that the brunet was practically being swarmed by his cats seemed to be quite hilarious.
Whether or not his amusement was noticed was difficult to say, however, as the island nation closed the distance between the shelter, and Greece stepped under the umbrella’s protection without a word. Two cats that had failed to attach themselves onto the brunet pawed at Japan’s legs, looking so forlorn that he could not refuse their demands; Greece relieved him of the umbrella, as if knowing, and he bent down, scooping the animals into his arms before straightening up once more.
When he made to take the umbrella back, the gesture was ignored and Japan blinked, perplexed; “Greece-san?”
Greece merely smiled in reply - it was somehow warmer, as if speaking on a level only they knew of - and Japan felt his face heat up. He turned to stare down at the road before them, though unable to completely wipe away his own smile; a purely reflexive action that occasionally baffled him, as he instead tried to focus on present matters.
“We should try and dry off as soon as possible,” he said, voice almost lost in the rain. The cats in his arms meowed at this, as if in agreement.
“Hn.”
Puddles of water on the road rippled as the rain continued to fall all around them, while people surged in huddled groups to their next destination. Muted voices, caught in conversation, as dark grey skies stretched out across tall buildings, though it was soon replaced by a scattering of trees and houses; a familiar, welcoming sight.
As they stepped into the shelter of his home, droplets of water scattered across the floorboards when the cats sought a place where they could dry off, and Japan turned to face the other nation. Half-formed apologies were cut short when Greece took his hand, seeking warmth, and Japan could not bring himself to pull away. With the barest squeeze of the fingers, he tugged his guest further into the house, the rain outside no more than a distant memory.
The Little Things [8a/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:37:49 UTC
eight: without
Fingers twisted into white sheets, while Japan contemplated the possibility of successfully leaving the room before someone realised what had happened. He knew it was foolish - the pain that spread through his body like wildfire remained, despite the fact he had been bedridden for a number of weeks - yet he could not ignore his responsibility towards his people, who were struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives.
And while they tried to do it alone, lives torn apart so suddenly by bombs, he could do next to nothing. The room before him (white walls, the smell of anaesthetic; in many ways unnatural to him) was a blunt reminder, though it was impossible for him to forget.
The war was over though. Japan turned the fact over in his mind, despite having done so since that day, but could not seem to piece his thoughts on the matter clearly. So much had happened so quickly, and many people had died, but there were moments where the entire thing seemed to be nothing more than a dream.
A nightmare, more like, as the faint stench of blood filled his nostrils and the island nation wanted to do nothing more than throw up.
A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts - stopped him from clawing at himself in a weak attempt to remind himself of the reality - and Japan straightened, forcing himself to breathe deeply to calm himself before his spoke.
“The door is open.”
Of his usual guests, he had been expecting America to burst in (after all, it had taken the first fortnight to finally convince him to knock before entering), perhaps England or Germany… China was a slim chance, as he had promised the next time he visited, it would be with the ‘rest of the family’; he had no idea if he would ever be prepared for that kind of confrontation.
He had not expected Greece, though. But before he could open his mouth and blurt out the first thing to come to mind - something along the lines of ‘what are you doing here?’ - his attention was drawn to movement closer to the floor. A few cats paused, mid-step, at the attention, and if the looks in their eyes indicated anything, it was that he really should have been prepared for their appearance.
The Mediterranean nation, on his part, stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached the single bed. He gave Japan a careful once-over, expression completely unreadable, even as he set a small bag on the table beside them. A gift, perhaps, though it didn’t feel right, to be given such a thing.
Japan bit his lip, fingers twisting together (he ignored the wounds that reopened at the action, staining the gauze red), “Greece-san.” It felt strange to speak that name once more, after everything that had occurred, after all the bloodshed and fighting; a world that may or may not have fallen so easily.
“Japan.” A brief, unreadable smile in reply, and it was impossible for Japan to work out what was on the other’s mind.
Shifting a chair that had been placed by the wall, Greece took a seat, while the cats milled about on the floor in an attempt to find a comfortable place to nap. The island nation pressed his hands together, a part of him unsure if mentioning their presence would be any sort of passable conversation starter: he chose to drop it, however, and instead leaned further back into the pillows.
Greece said nothing, eyes focused on the half-open window in front of him. He did not seem unduly worried about where they were - of course, there had been time for him to adjust, once news got out as to what had happened - yet it felt as if he was not completely comfortable either. He preferred the outdoors, after all; where they could sit under the never ending sky as they spoke of everything and nothing, so insignificant yet still living on.
The Little Things [8b/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:41:46 UTC
For his part, Japan tilted his head upwards as he traced the outline of the light above their heads, curious of the other’s reason for visiting. He could speculate, but no matter how he looked at the situation, the nation could not figure out any plausible explanation; aside from visiting for the sake of visiting.
Even as the thought occurred to him, he could not bring himself to really understand why anyone would take time from their own busy schedules for that alone.
But was there any real reason for him to complain? To not have doctors or nurses clamouring about, marking notes down as they spoke to themselves, and without the need of papers and politics, while he continued to hear his people in the distance (still unable to help them) was a welcome change.
To remember a time when he watched the clouds move - slowly, slowly - as cats milled about, content with how life was, despite everything…
With a start, snapped out of his train of thought, Japan could only stare down blankly at the cats Greece suddenly deposited in his lap. They did not seem to mind, instead shifting around the injured nation’s legs for a more comfortable spot before curling up to continue their naps. Japan shook his head, uselessly, as a tabby was pushed into his arms even as he spoke up;
“Greece-san, I do not think they allow pets in the hospital. How did you even-?”
The brunet shifted his hold on the three in his own arms, giving a thoughtful hum in reply; “They followed me. I think they missed Japan…”
The island nation almost questioned the reasoning behind such words, but stopped. There were too many things on mind - to remember, always, as his people struggled outside (he couldn’t forget that) - and he knew worrying about something so insignificant changed nothing. The cats were already here, as was Greece-…
It was not like he didn’t want the other nation there, though he would have preferred it under better circumstances. Even Japan could not lie to himself that, out of those who could have dropped by, Greece’s company was one he cherished deeply, even if he would never be able to put such sentiments into words. On the other hand, the idea of breaking the hospital’s rules caused him to shift uncomfortably.
The brunet caught the movement, though; head tilted to the side as he allowed the cats in his arms to jump down and wander off, Japan blinked when Greece leaned forward, one hand raised, as if to touch his face.
He stopped though, mere millimetres from the bandages that wrapped around the nation’s head. Japan turned away quickly, head half-bowed, the stark reminder of where he was, and the reasons why, hanging in the air (the smell of anaesthetic and blood from reopened wounds sharper to the senses).
At least the war is over; the thought caused his chest to clench painfully, as he remembered the destruction that awaited him outside the room. Though a part of him dreaded it - so weak; so, so weak at times - Japan also knew he had to be there. It was his responsibility to pick up the pieces around him, even as the steady stream of visits reminded him of what price had to be paid.
The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:46:40 UTC
He would not have been surprised if he eventually mad with it all (words, actions, beliefs; screaming- screaming- blood on his hands, explosions, demands, questions, while the dead stretched out into forever).
The cats around him seemed to sense the discomfort, as they practically crawled on top of him and forced his attention on them. Japan accepted the distraction, aware that Greece continued to watch him. There were unspoken words, questions, neither felt ready to speak of out loud, and the mutual acceptance seemed to be enough to lighten the mood within the room; even if it was just a little, Japan appreciated it.
A few minutes of generally comfortable silence was eventually broken by the Mediterranean nation who spoke, almost thoughtfully; “I heard you’ve been trying to leave your room.”
“Oh?” Japan turned at this, “I suppose even the most insignificant of matters can reach the other side of the world, when someone wishes it so.”
Greece shook his head, unwilling drop the subject; “Pushing yourself like that…”
He trailed off with a shrug, and Japan could only tilt his head a fraction. He had a fair idea of what the other wanted to say - though the task of forming it into clear sentences was difficult - and could only sink back into the pillows as he stroked the kitten that nudged his hand.
“I know.” His words hung in the air, and while he half-expected Greece to continue the conversation, he was glad when the other merely nodded, accepting his words as they were.
They lost track of time as they remained that way; in silence, while cats curled up on the hospital bed, in laps and spare chairs, not the least bit worried about the world around them. Japan could not help but appreciate the silence, the warmth of the cats surrounding him like a memory from too long ago. Somehow, it seemed that recently he had done nothing more than talk in circles with almost everyone who had come by to visit him, and the topics were rarely pleasant.
Like this, at least, he could pretend for a moment that there was nothing out of the ordinary. He almost laughed at the thought, words barely above a whisper; “So foolish.”
“It happens, sometimes,” Greece murmured, causing Japan to glance back at him. While it could have easily been a reply to his words, there was always a chance that the Mediterranean nation had merely spoken of something on his own mind.
“Perhaps- perhaps…” He could not find a truly appropriate response, allowing himself to repeat the word over (almost like a chant, in search of an answer to some unspeakable question of his).
So when Greece reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers in a loose hold, Japan could only stare at the red splotches that stained the bandages. The island nation squeezed, as if it would be enough to convey what was on mind - a confused, cluttered mess as it were - before he turned away, once more. A darkened sky met his gaze, and he knew the other nation would have to leave soon. To be left alone with his own thoughts, feelings; neither he really wished to face.
But it was warm, he realised, while Greece spoke in his mother tongue, words barely perceptible as he squeezed back. There was still pain there, Japan knew (physically and mentally; anything, everything) but for one day, at least, he chose to remember calmer days.
Days when conversations were broken by long periods of silence; of a quiet appreciation for each and every moment, as unspoken words (and nonexistent red string) were not necessary for them to know, while life continued on. One day, Japan knew - perhaps hoped - those days would return.
Re: The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 08:07:34 UTC
Hmm... is the problem you're speaking of about the pace? Part 7 did seem a little dragged-out, but I really do think it depends on personal opinion - one of the major appeals of Greece/Japan to me is how leisurely and calm they are with each other that seeps into the atmosphere surrounding them and just makes you want to curl up in a blanket and have a nice cup of hot chocolate.
...Sorry for rambling on. (See what the thought of them does to me?) Anyway, yeah, the pace did seem a bit off in that part, but I still finished it with a satisfied smile on my face. If you really do feel like you've run out of inspiration for this fill, though, please don't force yourself. The fact that you've already written eight lovely pieces for a pairing that I ache so badly for without finding anything new for them in weeks is more than enough to make people like me happy.
As for Part 8... get out of my head, anon! I've actually been tinkering around with a potential fic about Greece visiting Japan in the hospital much to the latter's surprise and bringing him a gift, to his even bigger surprise, and things starting out awkward between the two of them but gradually relaxing out. And after reading this, I feel like I should seriously scrap my fic, as you've already done what I wanted to do and more.
...Wow, this comment is getting really long isn't it? XD But I really wanted to tell you how much these pieces make me feel all warm and content inside (and maybe a little wistful for the 8th one), and you're doing something very right if you can capture these subtle emotions. Even if you don't write any other parts for this fill, I'll still be content with what you've written so far. (And I'll be even more so if you ever deanon in the future!)
writer!anon
anonymous
November 28 2009, 10:51:14 UTC
Well, for me I think it was more the flow of the pieces which… I guess sort of frustrated me at times; going from point A to point B without making it too abrupt or something, is what I think I’m trying to say. The first half of part seven was easy enough to write, while eight ended up in fragments I had to try and bring together so… yeah. And since I’ve read them far too many times in one sitting, I’ll probably take another look later and see how it works out. Fff, I can’t really explain myself clearly. And thanks for the feedback on part seven; these are the sorts of things I need a second opinion on :)
… Hm, while a part of me feels that there’s only so much that can be written (before it begins to feel like a repeat of a previous fill/part) I still have some ideas with these two I want to get down. It might take time, but I really want to make something I can be proud of and that sounds really, really cheesy. But yeah, I probably need to step back for a bit as well, rather than pushing myself when I’m not really in the mood ;)
And… aaaahhh I really didn’t mean for that to happen, though it isn’t surprising that other people have the general idea somewhere up there. You shouldn’t scrap it either! I mean, I’d like to read it it would definitely be interesting to see another take on it.
It’s no problem at all; I mean, comments make me smile, especially at the fact that someone out there seems to enjoy these. So, you know, thank you so much for taking time to tell me what you think~ Also, I’ve been thinking that, even if I do find a place (or number) to end this fill, I’ll probably find myself going back to it and adding more anyway; since they’re one-shots focused on their interactions, there’s really no reason for me to anchor myself down in that manner, I suppose XD (I’ll probably de-anon at some point… but right now, aaaah~ OTL)
Fff, this got sort of wordy too. But, uh, yes. Thank you again~
Re: The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 16:02:48 UTC
Everything is beautiful, dear. You write them just right and as rare as Giripan fills go, the regularity of this is more than enough to keep us very very happy. :)
Personally, I love this thing to bits and pieces. Please do continue, whatever rocks your boat.
Re: The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 16:30:07 UTC
Writer!anon, know that when I name my future cat Yaoi (although it may take awhile, since I'm going to name a cat Vodka first...) it is all your fault. (In the best of ways, of course.) ^_^
Perhaps he does not know exactly what it symbolises…
Yes, somehow, such an explanation could only work for so long before it became obsolete, and Japan could not even remember when he had begun to argue with himself over such foolish matters; they enjoyed each other’s company, what was the point of recalling each and every detail, trying to find some hidden meaning that did not exist (most likely, though at times-)?
Forcing such thoughts out of his mind, Japan took the offered string and, after another moment, tied it around Greece’s pinkie, just as the brunet had done. He pulled back while Greece took the chance to look at the small bow, a cat taking residence on the top of his head while another draped itself over his left shoulder. Both watched Japan, but he ignored them (tried to, at least) as, while seemingly bored, the black and white kitten crawled out of his lap and pawed at the red string.
Connected.
Japan drew his knees to his chest, staring down at his hand. The sky darkened around them, the final rays of daylight near-gone, and Greece spoke up, breaking the silence between them.
“… An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,” he said it slowly, as if to make sure of his words.
Japan twisted around at this, while long shadows seemed to merge as one, sun practically gone from sight; “Did you hear that from China-san?”
A brief nod of affirmation, before a sudden thought seemed to occur to Greece and he turned to face the island nation; he held up his hand so that the string could be seen, “Is it no good?”
“I don’t-” Japan coughed into his sleeve, as if it would give him enough time to work out an answer he could live with, “-I mean, it would become quite an inconvenience if people were to be literally connected like so.” He raised his own hand as an example, as the kitten between them continued to paw at its newfound toy.
“Just this once, then…” Another nod of the head, as if coming to some sort of agreement Japan had not been completely aware of. Leaning back, Greece pressed his lips against the base of his pinkie, where the red string was tied; Japan turned away quickly, before he could be caught staring.
“The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break,” he breathed, repeating words he had heard a long time ago, even as the string around his finger tugged lightly and the kitten meowed in aggravation, struggling to get out of the mess it had made.
“Hm?”
Japan could practically feel Greece’s eyes watching him, curious, and could only shake his head, turning to face the other was a small smile; “It is nothing, Greece-san. I was just thinking.”
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It seemed, no matter how hard he tried, Japan could not bring himself to make eye contact for any more than a few seconds. It was so rude, after all, to stare at whomever he happened to be conversing with, but it seemed such rules did not apply to other parts of the world. America, at least, found it amusing and England was used to it (decided that it was far too much work to try and help the other with something insignificant), but at the same time he could not help but feel awkward over the entire matter.
Though Japan could only wonder why the thought had occurred to him so suddenly, as the cat in his hands raised a paw and swiped it at his face (without claws, thankfully). Bemused, he set her back on the ground and she wandered off to where the other cats had gathered.
“That’s her way of showing affection.”
The Asian glanced to his side at the sound of Greece’s matter-of-fact tone, though the taller nation had both eyes closed, as he lay back on the grassy hill they occupied. Touching the spot where the paw had hit him, Japan could only shrug; “I suppose there are different ways to express such feelings, even for cats.”
A laugh this, though it did not seem to stem directly from his words. Japan, for his part, directed his gaze to the cloudless sky; it was nice to have a moment to themselves, after all, without politics and agreements, signing papers or reading lengthy documents to keep them occupied.
It was quiet here - just them, cats and nature - although, when one focused long enough, the hum of the city could still be heard (and if Japan wanted, really wanted to, he could hear the murmur of his people). Greece had, inevitably, drifted off once more, as his cats joined him; Japan watched with some amusement as they crawled onto the sleeping nation, leaving only his face uncovered.
They could remain like that for hours, if he allowed it. The weather was fair, typical for spring, and life seemed to go at its own pace, neither pushed nor pulled by external forces.
The cat that had swiped at his face seemed to stare at him from her position on Greece’s stomach, and Japan could only return the look blankly; the cats that followed Greece everywhere were, no doubt, a little stranger than the usual. Though, it could have merely been nothing more than Japan over exaggerating a small matter out of boredom.
His eyes are like that, too, Japan mused, reaching over, as if to touch the sleeping nation’s hand, but stopping himself halfway. He drew back with a small sigh; occasionally prying and questioning, digging deeper out of mere curiosity, yet not overbearing. Is that even possible?
That, and Greece could hold another’s gaze as if it were natural, as if there was nothing awkward with the action. Japan felt he would never understand how or why, as he laced his fingers together and watched as the sky began to turn a shade of orange with the approach of sunset. A tabby nudged him and he allowed it to crawl into his lap with a satisfied purr.
But what did it matter? It was alright, like this.
It was only when the sun had set completely, night sky a murky grey with the barest tinge of blue that Japan chose to wake his companion. He received a murmur in reply and a lazy swat of the hand when he gave the taller nation a firm prod in the shoulder, before Greece finally opened his eyes to stare up at the other. Japan pulled back quickly, apology on his lips even as the Mediterranean nation took a hold of his wrist.
Another look - somewhat confused - even as Japan picked himself up; Greece had yet to let go and it only seemed right to offer a hand. The cats, perhaps irked by their loss of a bed, gathered by their feet as Japan pulled the other up. Their hands remained linked for a moment longer, Japan opting to glance at the cats below as Greece looked on with the barest tilt of the head, before he let go, allowing their hands to fall back to their sides.
Greece bent down, picking up the first three cats within his reach, placing one in Japan’s arms before the other could work out what was happening. He stared down at the feline, who swiped at his face in reply, as Greece tugged lightly at his sleeve and they made the slow trek back to his house.
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Japan sat up on the futon as he tugged his clothes back into place, while Greece watched on with half-lidded eyes. No matter how many years passed, the island nation could not help but be this way (modest, always careful of his words, and just… himself) but Greece knew he would never have it any other way. The murmur of life was muffled by the walls around them, closed windows keeping the night drafts out; a time and place where it seemed only they existed.
Then, for a single moment, despite how brief, Greece thought the other nation was about to stand and leave the room entirely, though it had not been something he had done in recent years. Even as he told himself that, Greece could only reach forward, while a small part of him questioned just how real this moment was - now now now, caught in the line between reality and dreams - and what it meant.
Silence.
Japan started a little at the light touch, even as Greece fought to remain awake. The island nation smiled at the gesture (affection, fondness, love- did words really matter to describe what was between them? Its existence was real, but, at the same time, completely intangible) and he lay back down. He rolled over, closer, as Greece draped an arm around the other’s smaller frame. They remained this way, embraced in warmth that was real and comforting, words unnecessary.
One hundred and ten years, Greece recalled, almost wistfully. It had been a long time - and yet not, when one considered their very existence - since the start of foreign relations between the two. With it came a steady friendship that had, at some point over the years, developed into something more. They didn’t speak of it, though; didn’t feel the need to, content to leave it as it was.
So while their people celebrated the anniversary - a remembrance of their ties through cultural exhibits - the pair had spent the day like any other: cats, small talk and long periods of silence as they merely enjoyed the company. Each moment was special, after all, to be cherished no matter how insignificant; because even if they lived forever, both present and past (moments without fighting, without pain and frustration) left its mark for all eternity. And yet it was so easily forgettable.
Japan shifted, waking Greece, as the island nation raised his hands to brush stray strands of hair out of the other’s face. Their eyes met and Japan offered a small smile, allowing himself a moment to be selfish; to indulge in thoughts and matters that never spoke words, because Greece would know - knew, in fact - though maybe, one day, he would no longer be restrained by certain views believed for so long.
Until then, he took the chance for what it was worth. Words broke the silence, truth undeniable:
“I love you. I love you…”
A murmur in the night, moonlight obscured, yet not completely swathed in darkness. Greece smiled, aware of how difficult it was for the other nation to freely express himself at times, even as Japan tugged him closer for a kiss, fingers tangling into hair.
Hands trailed lightly against skin, individual thoughts and feelings almost palpable as they took the chance to just be. Because it really was just them, in this place (this moment) that saw and heard nothing; by morning it would be as if it had never truly occurred - a dream, a wish, though three simple words would be whispered once more, in reassurance before it faded into obscurity, left as a memory - but they knew, would always know.
Greece would go outside to greet another day; the chill of dawn enough to keep him awake, questions and observations his form of company. Then Japan would join him, and they would watch the sun rise together. Words could come later (one could only guess what they would talk about) but, for now, it was enough.
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Please, please do deanon this in the future, so that I can properly worship you.
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This is beautiful.
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In any case, thanks for the continued support, guys~ I’ll try to be less fail-tastic next time.
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seven: rainy days, rainy days
Fumbling with the sleeve of his coat for a moment, Japan squeezed the material to rid of the water it contained. Completely drenched, he could only berate himself for not being prepared for the downpour, even if it had been unexpected. Perhaps, he told himself, it was time to stop trying to calculate how quickly one could walk from one place to another, as if in hope the weather would continue to favour that individual.
Days like these, he had come to realise, often occurred when he thought in such a manner. It made next to no sense, anyway.
He watched as a couple of students dashed by, school bags held over their heads in a useless attempt to ward the rain away: that was always a possible situation to the current problem, as he was already soaked to the bone, clothes heavy with water.
Yet, Japan knew that he could never do that, as the disgruntled cats gathered by his feet reminded him of who he was with. Greece was preoccupied enough as it was, though it was a wonder how he managed to actually keep track of all his cats; you get used to it, he had once said with a shrug (though the question was never asked out loud).
Japan stepped closer to where the rain fell, as he tried to calculate the distance between where they stood - huddled under the meagre shelter of a bus stop - and the nearest convenience store. An umbrella was a good idea, after all; if not just for them (already completely drenched, but still-), then for the cats. If that even made sense, though Japan was certain it did not. Besides that, it did not look like the rain was about to stop anytime soon, and they could not merely wait for it to cease.
It was purely common sense, at this point; his hands were freezing, almost completely numb, and he was certain Greece was in a similar position. The cats as well, he remembered, would appreciate getting out from the rain as soon as possible.
“Japan?”
At the sound of his name, the island nation snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face Greece, who remained crouching, practically covered in half-drenched, clearly irate cats. Instinctively, he gave a short bow in reply; “I apologise for this.”
“It was unexpected,” Greece said, standing up carefully as the cats continued to cling to him. He did not seem unduly worried with his position, or the fact that had nearly spent the last ten minutes under the same bus shelter.
Japan shifted on his feet, while the few cats on the ground circled his feet, as if he would somehow protect them from the rain. He resisted the urge to bend down and pick up as many as he could, as his current plan of action would be hindered by such actions. Instead, he gave another bow, running the course of events in his mind once more.
“I know this may seem rude of me, but if you do not mind waiting here for a minute,” he pondered over his words, before ploughing on, “I will return as soon as I have acquired an umbrella.” He considered the possibility of apologising again, but suppressed the urge.
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Their eyes met for mere seconds before the island nation turned away, apology muffled as he instead took one last, long look at the street before them. Most of his people were too busy to give them a second glance, huddled under umbrellas of muted colours as they hurried from one destination to another, and he was glad for it.
With one final glance back at the other nation - and making absolutely sure none of the cats were in his way prior to moving - Japan ran from under the shelter, careful not to collide with anyone in his haste.
-pitter-patter-pitter-patter-
The rain fell - down, always down - as it slid off umbrellas and onto the footpath; down his back, clothes heavy and already completely drenched. As the electronic doors slid open, allowing him entrance, Japan ran a hand through his hair uselessly. Droplets fell onto once-dry tiles, while the person at the counter murmured a greeting, which he returned briefly before turning back to the task at hand.
When he returned to the bus stop, Japan could not completely stifle his laughter as he caught sight of Greece. Whether it was the cold finally getting to him, or the fact that his clothes were highly uncomfortable (or a mixture of both factors, really), the fact that the brunet was practically being swarmed by his cats seemed to be quite hilarious.
Whether or not his amusement was noticed was difficult to say, however, as the island nation closed the distance between the shelter, and Greece stepped under the umbrella’s protection without a word. Two cats that had failed to attach themselves onto the brunet pawed at Japan’s legs, looking so forlorn that he could not refuse their demands; Greece relieved him of the umbrella, as if knowing, and he bent down, scooping the animals into his arms before straightening up once more.
When he made to take the umbrella back, the gesture was ignored and Japan blinked, perplexed; “Greece-san?”
Greece merely smiled in reply - it was somehow warmer, as if speaking on a level only they knew of - and Japan felt his face heat up. He turned to stare down at the road before them, though unable to completely wipe away his own smile; a purely reflexive action that occasionally baffled him, as he instead tried to focus on present matters.
“We should try and dry off as soon as possible,” he said, voice almost lost in the rain. The cats in his arms meowed at this, as if in agreement.
“Hn.”
Puddles of water on the road rippled as the rain continued to fall all around them, while people surged in huddled groups to their next destination. Muted voices, caught in conversation, as dark grey skies stretched out across tall buildings, though it was soon replaced by a scattering of trees and houses; a familiar, welcoming sight.
As they stepped into the shelter of his home, droplets of water scattered across the floorboards when the cats sought a place where they could dry off, and Japan turned to face the other nation. Half-formed apologies were cut short when Greece took his hand, seeking warmth, and Japan could not bring himself to pull away. With the barest squeeze of the fingers, he tugged his guest further into the house, the rain outside no more than a distant memory.
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Fingers twisted into white sheets, while Japan contemplated the possibility of successfully leaving the room before someone realised what had happened. He knew it was foolish - the pain that spread through his body like wildfire remained, despite the fact he had been bedridden for a number of weeks - yet he could not ignore his responsibility towards his people, who were struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives.
And while they tried to do it alone, lives torn apart so suddenly by bombs, he could do next to nothing. The room before him (white walls, the smell of anaesthetic; in many ways unnatural to him) was a blunt reminder, though it was impossible for him to forget.
The war was over though. Japan turned the fact over in his mind, despite having done so since that day, but could not seem to piece his thoughts on the matter clearly. So much had happened so quickly, and many people had died, but there were moments where the entire thing seemed to be nothing more than a dream.
A nightmare, more like, as the faint stench of blood filled his nostrils and the island nation wanted to do nothing more than throw up.
A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts - stopped him from clawing at himself in a weak attempt to remind himself of the reality - and Japan straightened, forcing himself to breathe deeply to calm himself before his spoke.
“The door is open.”
Of his usual guests, he had been expecting America to burst in (after all, it had taken the first fortnight to finally convince him to knock before entering), perhaps England or Germany… China was a slim chance, as he had promised the next time he visited, it would be with the ‘rest of the family’; he had no idea if he would ever be prepared for that kind of confrontation.
He had not expected Greece, though. But before he could open his mouth and blurt out the first thing to come to mind - something along the lines of ‘what are you doing here?’ - his attention was drawn to movement closer to the floor. A few cats paused, mid-step, at the attention, and if the looks in their eyes indicated anything, it was that he really should have been prepared for their appearance.
The Mediterranean nation, on his part, stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached the single bed. He gave Japan a careful once-over, expression completely unreadable, even as he set a small bag on the table beside them. A gift, perhaps, though it didn’t feel right, to be given such a thing.
Japan bit his lip, fingers twisting together (he ignored the wounds that reopened at the action, staining the gauze red), “Greece-san.” It felt strange to speak that name once more, after everything that had occurred, after all the bloodshed and fighting; a world that may or may not have fallen so easily.
“Japan.” A brief, unreadable smile in reply, and it was impossible for Japan to work out what was on the other’s mind.
Shifting a chair that had been placed by the wall, Greece took a seat, while the cats milled about on the floor in an attempt to find a comfortable place to nap. The island nation pressed his hands together, a part of him unsure if mentioning their presence would be any sort of passable conversation starter: he chose to drop it, however, and instead leaned further back into the pillows.
Greece said nothing, eyes focused on the half-open window in front of him. He did not seem unduly worried about where they were - of course, there had been time for him to adjust, once news got out as to what had happened - yet it felt as if he was not completely comfortable either. He preferred the outdoors, after all; where they could sit under the never ending sky as they spoke of everything and nothing, so insignificant yet still living on.
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Even as the thought occurred to him, he could not bring himself to really understand why anyone would take time from their own busy schedules for that alone.
But was there any real reason for him to complain? To not have doctors or nurses clamouring about, marking notes down as they spoke to themselves, and without the need of papers and politics, while he continued to hear his people in the distance (still unable to help them) was a welcome change.
To remember a time when he watched the clouds move - slowly, slowly - as cats milled about, content with how life was, despite everything…
With a start, snapped out of his train of thought, Japan could only stare down blankly at the cats Greece suddenly deposited in his lap. They did not seem to mind, instead shifting around the injured nation’s legs for a more comfortable spot before curling up to continue their naps. Japan shook his head, uselessly, as a tabby was pushed into his arms even as he spoke up;
“Greece-san, I do not think they allow pets in the hospital. How did you even-?”
The brunet shifted his hold on the three in his own arms, giving a thoughtful hum in reply; “They followed me. I think they missed Japan…”
The island nation almost questioned the reasoning behind such words, but stopped. There were too many things on mind - to remember, always, as his people struggled outside (he couldn’t forget that) - and he knew worrying about something so insignificant changed nothing. The cats were already here, as was Greece-…
It was not like he didn’t want the other nation there, though he would have preferred it under better circumstances. Even Japan could not lie to himself that, out of those who could have dropped by, Greece’s company was one he cherished deeply, even if he would never be able to put such sentiments into words. On the other hand, the idea of breaking the hospital’s rules caused him to shift uncomfortably.
The brunet caught the movement, though; head tilted to the side as he allowed the cats in his arms to jump down and wander off, Japan blinked when Greece leaned forward, one hand raised, as if to touch his face.
He stopped though, mere millimetres from the bandages that wrapped around the nation’s head. Japan turned away quickly, head half-bowed, the stark reminder of where he was, and the reasons why, hanging in the air (the smell of anaesthetic and blood from reopened wounds sharper to the senses).
At least the war is over; the thought caused his chest to clench painfully, as he remembered the destruction that awaited him outside the room. Though a part of him dreaded it - so weak; so, so weak at times - Japan also knew he had to be there. It was his responsibility to pick up the pieces around him, even as the steady stream of visits reminded him of what price had to be paid.
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The cats around him seemed to sense the discomfort, as they practically crawled on top of him and forced his attention on them. Japan accepted the distraction, aware that Greece continued to watch him. There were unspoken words, questions, neither felt ready to speak of out loud, and the mutual acceptance seemed to be enough to lighten the mood within the room; even if it was just a little, Japan appreciated it.
A few minutes of generally comfortable silence was eventually broken by the Mediterranean nation who spoke, almost thoughtfully; “I heard you’ve been trying to leave your room.”
“Oh?” Japan turned at this, “I suppose even the most insignificant of matters can reach the other side of the world, when someone wishes it so.”
Greece shook his head, unwilling drop the subject; “Pushing yourself like that…”
He trailed off with a shrug, and Japan could only tilt his head a fraction. He had a fair idea of what the other wanted to say - though the task of forming it into clear sentences was difficult - and could only sink back into the pillows as he stroked the kitten that nudged his hand.
“I know.” His words hung in the air, and while he half-expected Greece to continue the conversation, he was glad when the other merely nodded, accepting his words as they were.
They lost track of time as they remained that way; in silence, while cats curled up on the hospital bed, in laps and spare chairs, not the least bit worried about the world around them. Japan could not help but appreciate the silence, the warmth of the cats surrounding him like a memory from too long ago. Somehow, it seemed that recently he had done nothing more than talk in circles with almost everyone who had come by to visit him, and the topics were rarely pleasant.
Like this, at least, he could pretend for a moment that there was nothing out of the ordinary. He almost laughed at the thought, words barely above a whisper; “So foolish.”
“It happens, sometimes,” Greece murmured, causing Japan to glance back at him. While it could have easily been a reply to his words, there was always a chance that the Mediterranean nation had merely spoken of something on his own mind.
“Perhaps- perhaps…” He could not find a truly appropriate response, allowing himself to repeat the word over (almost like a chant, in search of an answer to some unspeakable question of his).
So when Greece reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers in a loose hold, Japan could only stare at the red splotches that stained the bandages. The island nation squeezed, as if it would be enough to convey what was on mind - a confused, cluttered mess as it were - before he turned away, once more. A darkened sky met his gaze, and he knew the other nation would have to leave soon. To be left alone with his own thoughts, feelings; neither he really wished to face.
But it was warm, he realised, while Greece spoke in his mother tongue, words barely perceptible as he squeezed back. There was still pain there, Japan knew (physically and mentally; anything, everything) but for one day, at least, he chose to remember calmer days.
Days when conversations were broken by long periods of silence; of a quiet appreciation for each and every moment, as unspoken words (and nonexistent red string) were not necessary for them to know, while life continued on. One day, Japan knew - perhaps hoped - those days would return.
One day.
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...Sorry for rambling on. (See what the thought of them does to me?) Anyway, yeah, the pace did seem a bit off in that part, but I still finished it with a satisfied smile on my face. If you really do feel like you've run out of inspiration for this fill, though, please don't force yourself. The fact that you've already written eight lovely pieces for a pairing that I ache so badly for without finding anything new for them in weeks is more than enough to make people like me happy.
As for Part 8... get out of my head, anon! I've actually been tinkering around with a potential fic about Greece visiting Japan in the hospital much to the latter's surprise and bringing him a gift, to his even bigger surprise, and things starting out awkward between the two of them but gradually relaxing out. And after reading this, I feel like I should seriously scrap my fic, as you've already done what I wanted to do and more.
...Wow, this comment is getting really long isn't it? XD But I really wanted to tell you how much these pieces make me feel all warm and content inside (and maybe a little wistful for the 8th one), and you're doing something very right if you can capture these subtle emotions. Even if you don't write any other parts for this fill, I'll still be content with what you've written so far. (And I'll be even more so if you ever deanon in the future!)
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… Hm, while a part of me feels that there’s only so much that can be written (before it begins to feel like a repeat of a previous fill/part) I still have some ideas with these two I want to get down. It might take time, but I really want to make something I can be proud of and that sounds really, really cheesy. But yeah, I probably need to step back for a bit as well, rather than pushing myself when I’m not really in the mood ;)
And… aaaahhh I really didn’t mean for that to happen, though it isn’t surprising that other people have the general idea somewhere up there. You shouldn’t scrap it either! I mean, I’d like to read it it would definitely be interesting to see another take on it.
It’s no problem at all; I mean, comments make me smile, especially at the fact that someone out there seems to enjoy these. So, you know, thank you so much for taking time to tell me what you think~ Also, I’ve been thinking that, even if I do find a place (or number) to end this fill, I’ll probably find myself going back to it and adding more anyway; since they’re one-shots focused on their interactions, there’s really no reason for me to anchor myself down in that manner, I suppose XD (I’ll probably de-anon at some point… but right now, aaaah~ OTL)
Fff, this got sort of wordy too. But, uh, yes. Thank you again~
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Personally, I love this thing to bits and pieces. Please do continue, whatever rocks your boat.
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