prelude in B
help help betaing/questions of icness/etc.etc.etc. these are the characterizations I'm playing around with.
(omg Haruhi stop being so hard to write already.)
(I don't have a Haruhi icon either? DOUBLEFAIL.)
When Haruhi looked up, her eyes traveling from his bare feet to his tousled hair, she felt-something, something she didn’t recognize, something that made her strangely shy. She couldn’t help staring, following rivulets of water as they dripped down his chest, at once recoiling deep inside herself and wanting to reach out and catch his attention, if only for a moment. The slight brush of his fingers against hers as he took the glass from her hands terrified her, and she was grateful when he took his gaze off her. These over-exaggerated heights of emotion seemed more suited to Tamaki than to herself; she busied herself with controlling them, puzzled as to their source.
Yet the same wanting overcame her as she watched him stare into the fake jungle, her hand landing on his arm with more confidence than she felt, her voice practically babbling as it sought to reassure him. His hand, large, warm, and reassured, rested on her head; she had the strangest feeling, as he lifted it away, that he lifted her right out of her skin.
It was probably because she was preoccupied with resubstantiating herself that she ran after him-that, and the perfectly natural concern for a boy nearly twice her size running into a jungle with mad creatures all by himself. She could see, of course, that the boy nearly twice her size was definitely strong enough to defend himself against whatever might come his way, but it didn’t seem right that he should run off-alone. She, however, being half his size, was ill-equipped to go crashing into the jungle, which should have occurred to her, except that notions of that sort never occurred to her.
And then in the stunned silence after he said her name she found herself in his arms, her hand resting against his sternum (dry, aside from the humidity trying to cling to their skin), and a small smile on her face. It disappeared as soon as she became aware of it, but by then the silence had turned comfortable, and she could do no more than sit up, doing her best to be alert to the world around-in front of her.
“You weren’t lonely without me, were you?” Honey said, patting him on the head.
He looked down at his cousin, and said, “Not completely.”
And though she stood there with the others, she had the strongest sense that he was not-looking at her, the strongest sense of a shudder running from her toes to her ears, the strongest sense that she ought to blush, a little. She didn’t, of course, any more than she said anything when he brushed by her, his fingers skipping across her arm by what she firmly told herself was accident, because it was senseless to think it to be anything else and even more ridiculous to want it to be so.
(omg Haruhi stop being so hard to write already.)
(I don't have a Haruhi icon either? DOUBLEFAIL.)
When Haruhi looked up, her eyes traveling from his bare feet to his tousled hair, she felt-something, something she didn’t recognize, something that made her strangely shy. She couldn’t help staring, following rivulets of water as they dripped down his chest, at once recoiling deep inside herself and wanting to reach out and catch his attention, if only for a moment. The slight brush of his fingers against hers as he took the glass from her hands terrified her, and she was grateful when he took his gaze off her. These over-exaggerated heights of emotion seemed more suited to Tamaki than to herself; she busied herself with controlling them, puzzled as to their source.
Yet the same wanting overcame her as she watched him stare into the fake jungle, her hand landing on his arm with more confidence than she felt, her voice practically babbling as it sought to reassure him. His hand, large, warm, and reassured, rested on her head; she had the strangest feeling, as he lifted it away, that he lifted her right out of her skin.
It was probably because she was preoccupied with resubstantiating herself that she ran after him-that, and the perfectly natural concern for a boy nearly twice her size running into a jungle with mad creatures all by himself. She could see, of course, that the boy nearly twice her size was definitely strong enough to defend himself against whatever might come his way, but it didn’t seem right that he should run off-alone. She, however, being half his size, was ill-equipped to go crashing into the jungle, which should have occurred to her, except that notions of that sort never occurred to her.
And then in the stunned silence after he said her name she found herself in his arms, her hand resting against his sternum (dry, aside from the humidity trying to cling to their skin), and a small smile on her face. It disappeared as soon as she became aware of it, but by then the silence had turned comfortable, and she could do no more than sit up, doing her best to be alert to the world around-in front of her.
“You weren’t lonely without me, were you?” Honey said, patting him on the head.
He looked down at his cousin, and said, “Not completely.”
And though she stood there with the others, she had the strongest sense that he was not-looking at her, the strongest sense of a shudder running from her toes to her ears, the strongest sense that she ought to blush, a little. She didn’t, of course, any more than she said anything when he brushed by her, his fingers skipping across her arm by what she firmly told herself was accident, because it was senseless to think it to be anything else and even more ridiculous to want it to be so.