[Gazette] Allegory (1/1)
Title: Allegory
Genre: Comedy
Rating: G
Warning: May come off unintentionally ramble-filled and pointless.
Characters: Reita & Uruha
Synopsis: What friends are for.
Comments: First friendship fic. I got the idea for this when I remembered, out of the blue, a message I received so many months ago. Kindly take into account the warning above just in case you decide to read, only to find out later on that you wasted your time.
Disclaimer: They own themselves and I own myself. Fair enough.
For the life of him, Uruha couldn’t exactly fathom what they were doing in the park.
Not in the literal sense, of course. It was one of the band’s rare days off, and he and Reita made arrangements on hanging out together. When Reita suggested that they go to the park, he agreed even though he wasn’t sure what they were going to do there. He became even more intrigued when he saw Reita carrying a paper bag with him.
“You’ll know when we get to the park.” Reita answered, noticing the questioning look in his eyes.
Uruha didn’t expect the paper bag to contain bread crumbs. What was even more surprising was Reita feeding them to the pigeons that gathered near their feet in less than eight minutes when they made themselves comfortable on the bench.
The guitarist couldn’t help watching the other man as he wordlessly fed the birds, smiling every now and then when he stooped a little and offered the crumbs in the palm of his hand. The gesture-the entire scenario, even-reminded Uruha of the elderly people he usually saw in the park on sunny Saturday mornings.
When the crumbs were gone, Reita sat up properly again, and that was when he caught sight of something from a distance. Five ducks were calmly sailing on the lake’s waters at such a leisurely pace as if they had all the time in the world. Staring at them for a while reminded him of something, in which he turned to his companion and nearly startled him with the abrupt gesture.
“Look at those ducks.” Reita told him, finding it hard to contain his enthusiasm (it showed in the way his lips were threatening to curve upwards). “They remind me of something.”
Uruha shot the bassist a weird look before complying with the odd request. Averting his eyes towards the ducks and eyeing them for a good minute, he looked back at Reita with slightly raised eyebrows and an unreadable expression on his face.
“If you’re about to crack a new joke on how I can pass as a duck just because I have pouty lips…”
“No!” Reita answered almost immediately. Realizing that his reply came off a little harsh and loud, he calmed himself and said in a more normal tone of voice, “I mean, no. It’s not about that.”
Uruha didn’t look convinced. “Enlighten me, then.”
Reita cleared his throat, not because it was itchy, but to suppress the mirth he was currently feeling (although it showed in the way his eyes lit up).
“As I said, it’s not about the bill-lips comparison.” He started, trying to be serious. “When I saw those ducks, I was reminded of you in some way. See how calm they look while they're sailing?” He pointed to the feathered animals again for emphasis. “To us, their staying afloat like that seems so easy, like the task doesn’t take much effort. But to the ducks, it isn’t; their feet work so hard paddling under the water just to stay on the surface.”
Still, Uruha continued to look unconvinced. “Suzuki, do you have a point or not?”
The comment was ignored when the bassist continued, “I can’t help but think you’re like them in that aspect, Uruha.”
He asked for a point and he got it. But that didn’t mean Uruha wasn’t entitled to act surprised.
“Most of the time you look so unperturbed on the outside, doing things at your own pace even if we tell you to hurry up sometimes. But I know that there are things troubling you inside if I look beyond the composed façade you put up. You may not share your plights to me but that doesn’t mean I have to stay unaware."
Uruha was silent for a few moments, taking time to ponder on the things his friend said. Yet even if he didn’t, he knew that Reita was right: that when he had some problems at hand, he chooses to keep them to himself because he didn’t want to bother anyone with his issues. Thus, he sorts to acting and appearing calm and collected all the time just so the people close to him won’t worry too much.
Like a duck, indeed.
“Sorry.” Uruha mumbled a little sheepishly. “Okay, I guess an apology doesn’t cut it, but that’s the only thing I can say right now.” He lightly flicked his fringe away from his eyes as he went on. “But will it be any consolation to your pride as a friend if I say that I shall try to share my burdens with you and the others next time?”
“You better live up to your resolution, or else!” Reita warned, albeit playfully. “Because, Takashima, while you may be similar to a duck’s calmness when they swim, your only difference to them is that you can’t-and won’t-float alone. That’s why people are given friends to rely on, because humans can’t survive on their own.”
Reita patted Uruha’s shoulder twice and offered a thumbs-up afterwards, to which the latter responded by giving a grin. To depend more and be independent less (in a balanced way, of course): this is what the guitarist must learn.
“Then again, who knows if you have webbed and wrinkly feet like the ducks?"
Reita laughed out loud as he jumped up from his seat and dashed a good five meters away when Uruha threatened to pummel him.
Fin
Genre: Comedy
Rating: G
Warning: May come off unintentionally ramble-filled and pointless.
Characters: Reita & Uruha
Synopsis: What friends are for.
Comments: First friendship fic. I got the idea for this when I remembered, out of the blue, a message I received so many months ago. Kindly take into account the warning above just in case you decide to read, only to find out later on that you wasted your time.
Disclaimer: They own themselves and I own myself. Fair enough.
For the life of him, Uruha couldn’t exactly fathom what they were doing in the park.
Not in the literal sense, of course. It was one of the band’s rare days off, and he and Reita made arrangements on hanging out together. When Reita suggested that they go to the park, he agreed even though he wasn’t sure what they were going to do there. He became even more intrigued when he saw Reita carrying a paper bag with him.
“You’ll know when we get to the park.” Reita answered, noticing the questioning look in his eyes.
Uruha didn’t expect the paper bag to contain bread crumbs. What was even more surprising was Reita feeding them to the pigeons that gathered near their feet in less than eight minutes when they made themselves comfortable on the bench.
The guitarist couldn’t help watching the other man as he wordlessly fed the birds, smiling every now and then when he stooped a little and offered the crumbs in the palm of his hand. The gesture-the entire scenario, even-reminded Uruha of the elderly people he usually saw in the park on sunny Saturday mornings.
When the crumbs were gone, Reita sat up properly again, and that was when he caught sight of something from a distance. Five ducks were calmly sailing on the lake’s waters at such a leisurely pace as if they had all the time in the world. Staring at them for a while reminded him of something, in which he turned to his companion and nearly startled him with the abrupt gesture.
“Look at those ducks.” Reita told him, finding it hard to contain his enthusiasm (it showed in the way his lips were threatening to curve upwards). “They remind me of something.”
Uruha shot the bassist a weird look before complying with the odd request. Averting his eyes towards the ducks and eyeing them for a good minute, he looked back at Reita with slightly raised eyebrows and an unreadable expression on his face.
“If you’re about to crack a new joke on how I can pass as a duck just because I have pouty lips…”
“No!” Reita answered almost immediately. Realizing that his reply came off a little harsh and loud, he calmed himself and said in a more normal tone of voice, “I mean, no. It’s not about that.”
Uruha didn’t look convinced. “Enlighten me, then.”
Reita cleared his throat, not because it was itchy, but to suppress the mirth he was currently feeling (although it showed in the way his eyes lit up).
“As I said, it’s not about the bill-lips comparison.” He started, trying to be serious. “When I saw those ducks, I was reminded of you in some way. See how calm they look while they're sailing?” He pointed to the feathered animals again for emphasis. “To us, their staying afloat like that seems so easy, like the task doesn’t take much effort. But to the ducks, it isn’t; their feet work so hard paddling under the water just to stay on the surface.”
Still, Uruha continued to look unconvinced. “Suzuki, do you have a point or not?”
The comment was ignored when the bassist continued, “I can’t help but think you’re like them in that aspect, Uruha.”
He asked for a point and he got it. But that didn’t mean Uruha wasn’t entitled to act surprised.
“Most of the time you look so unperturbed on the outside, doing things at your own pace even if we tell you to hurry up sometimes. But I know that there are things troubling you inside if I look beyond the composed façade you put up. You may not share your plights to me but that doesn’t mean I have to stay unaware."
Uruha was silent for a few moments, taking time to ponder on the things his friend said. Yet even if he didn’t, he knew that Reita was right: that when he had some problems at hand, he chooses to keep them to himself because he didn’t want to bother anyone with his issues. Thus, he sorts to acting and appearing calm and collected all the time just so the people close to him won’t worry too much.
Like a duck, indeed.
“Sorry.” Uruha mumbled a little sheepishly. “Okay, I guess an apology doesn’t cut it, but that’s the only thing I can say right now.” He lightly flicked his fringe away from his eyes as he went on. “But will it be any consolation to your pride as a friend if I say that I shall try to share my burdens with you and the others next time?”
“You better live up to your resolution, or else!” Reita warned, albeit playfully. “Because, Takashima, while you may be similar to a duck’s calmness when they swim, your only difference to them is that you can’t-and won’t-float alone. That’s why people are given friends to rely on, because humans can’t survive on their own.”
Reita patted Uruha’s shoulder twice and offered a thumbs-up afterwards, to which the latter responded by giving a grin. To depend more and be independent less (in a balanced way, of course): this is what the guitarist must learn.
“Then again, who knows if you have webbed and wrinkly feet like the ducks?"
Reita laughed out loud as he jumped up from his seat and dashed a good five meters away when Uruha threatened to pummel him.
Fin