o1.
just because.
1. akame; for
elaeye
burn, paper hearts.
the fireworks flare brightly and you look up, look up and his eyes are as depthless as forevers, shining pieces of splintered light flashing through through through. his hair curls around his face a little too softly and he tilts his head is a little too slightly. there's never a piece for finality in this, this game you both play, the skirting around eachother and the rough and quick edges. bitter and endless as forever, the way he looks at you and the way you look at him.
but i love you, you say, the words coming to your lips too quickly, smooth and flowing like water. you're surprised that you don't stumble over them, tripping and noticeable, but you expected something a bit more subtle from yourself, something like a slight smile and a kiss pressed to hair. you expected something a bit more quiet.
your fireworks seem to be burning away (his shine as bright as ever) and the smile he carries is slow and a bittersweet symphony in itself. for some reason you can see what's coming next, you can read it in the change of expression, the way his hair rests on his face. it's subtle but noticeable and for some reason the way he squares his shoulders is a little too sad.
this is not a love story, he says and he's staring straight through you.
2. mika/hiro; for
drywisterias
maufactured fairytales.
you were in love once.
(you were fifteen and stupid and the world was much too big for you. )
he was a boy with hair of silver and eyes of gold and when he smiled it was like the sun. he wrote promises with his fingertips and whispered odes to living with his laugh, and it was crazy/beautiful the way he looked at you. he loved you too, promised you forever and more and something amazing and you could see it every time you looked in his eyes, it made you want to look again, and again.
you remember things.
you remember scraping off metal from his bicycle and poppyfields and tiny gloves and snowmen and a baby that didn't come, another soul lost. you think that the baby would've had your hair and his eyes, and you think that it would have been a river as well.
(maybe you would have drowned in both of them.)
nowadays your heart's beating against the radio static and you swear you can hear his voice, whispering sometimes, sometimes your smile, and his voice stops, blocked out by waves of forget, blurred lines and quiet beeps (and he's whispering fragility, beautiful and silent in it's own way and you want to cry and laugh and stare at the sky because he promised that he would become it for you, he said so, and now you're wondering, you're wondering why why why when you listen closely to the broken air the only thing you can hear is his smile.)
and i love you far too much, he says and laughs.
(it feels like heartbreak exploding in your eyes.)
---
this is going to be my dedication corner.
i'll write for whoever i feel like and whatever pairing i feel like at the time, i guess.
it's mainly to get everything off my chest.
i love love love you all.
1. akame; for
elaeye
burn, paper hearts.
the fireworks flare brightly and you look up, look up and his eyes are as depthless as forevers, shining pieces of splintered light flashing through through through. his hair curls around his face a little too softly and he tilts his head is a little too slightly. there's never a piece for finality in this, this game you both play, the skirting around eachother and the rough and quick edges. bitter and endless as forever, the way he looks at you and the way you look at him.
but i love you, you say, the words coming to your lips too quickly, smooth and flowing like water. you're surprised that you don't stumble over them, tripping and noticeable, but you expected something a bit more subtle from yourself, something like a slight smile and a kiss pressed to hair. you expected something a bit more quiet.
your fireworks seem to be burning away (his shine as bright as ever) and the smile he carries is slow and a bittersweet symphony in itself. for some reason you can see what's coming next, you can read it in the change of expression, the way his hair rests on his face. it's subtle but noticeable and for some reason the way he squares his shoulders is a little too sad.
this is not a love story, he says and he's staring straight through you.
2. mika/hiro; for
drywisterias
maufactured fairytales.
you were in love once.
(you were fifteen and stupid and the world was much too big for you. )
he was a boy with hair of silver and eyes of gold and when he smiled it was like the sun. he wrote promises with his fingertips and whispered odes to living with his laugh, and it was crazy/beautiful the way he looked at you. he loved you too, promised you forever and more and something amazing and you could see it every time you looked in his eyes, it made you want to look again, and again.
you remember things.
you remember scraping off metal from his bicycle and poppyfields and tiny gloves and snowmen and a baby that didn't come, another soul lost. you think that the baby would've had your hair and his eyes, and you think that it would have been a river as well.
(maybe you would have drowned in both of them.)
nowadays your heart's beating against the radio static and you swear you can hear his voice, whispering sometimes, sometimes your smile, and his voice stops, blocked out by waves of forget, blurred lines and quiet beeps (and he's whispering fragility, beautiful and silent in it's own way and you want to cry and laugh and stare at the sky because he promised that he would become it for you, he said so, and now you're wondering, you're wondering why why why when you listen closely to the broken air the only thing you can hear is his smile.)
and i love you far too much, he says and laughs.
(it feels like heartbreak exploding in your eyes.)
---
this is going to be my dedication corner.
i'll write for whoever i feel like and whatever pairing i feel like at the time, i guess.
it's mainly to get everything off my chest.
i love love love you all.