NO.6 Fanfic: Such That We May Greet Each Other Once Again
Title: Such That We May Greet Each Other Once Again
Author: lifelink
Fandom: NO.6
Paring: Shion/Nezumi
Rating: PG
Words: 544
Summary: Language is the source of misunderstandings. Shion, Nezumi, and a kiss under the setting sun.
Notes: Originally written for epicsoup. A happily ever after where Nezumi comes back. The title pertains to farewells.
Shion watches from the balcony, white hair lilting lazily in moonlight that can no longer halted by iron, concrete, and lies. It's a blank world now, neither the great city nor the spiraling slums, but a fantastic amalgam of the two, fighting to create a new story under these identical stars and sky.
Steam swirls in small spirals from the surface of his tea and it reminds him, just the whole world has since the wall fell, of Nezumi and their candlelit meals in the cool underground.
It has been weeks and Shion can't forget. Not about Safu (whom he will always love), not about his the tight grasp of his mother (who has grown so strong in his absence), not about all the blood and rage and what it was like to disappear from the world (cold, dark and so cold, but Shion can still hear those echoic strains of melody).
What he remembers most vividly is Nezumi and the way he sang, the way he laughed, the way he kissed him, soft and insistent and raw.
It isn't the kiss that is important, not to Shion (a kiss is mere nature and biology, just strings of numbers and animalistic gestures towards continued survival), and the matter lies in what it represents. Shion kissed Nezumi once, because he is true no matter what, because some stories can only be told through action, because he was leaving and wanted a chance to be stopped.
This is why, under that sunset on the edge of that dying, dying, but so alive city, Shion let Nezumi press their lips together, to see what needed to say. Nezumi is an actor, after all, and Shion knows from scraps of ancient books and plays, from all his experience watching, being in that world, how comforting lies are and how easily one might fall into them. But that, standing there as they had, half flushed from desert heat and their own rapidly calming hearts, could have been nothing but true.
Nezumi kisses Shion because of the way the shadows play on his face, because he is alive and a city is dead, because Nezumi can't stay but that doesn't mean he won't come back.
Now, Shion lets his eyes train on the sky, mind racing for remembered star maps and constellations names. The rat, just above the horizon line, appearing with the start of spring and new beginnings, all it's stars twinkling away with harsh caprice.
There is a rustle to his right, like the sound of scuttling mice, and Shion smiles a welcome.
-
Karan finds them in the morning, when her hands are sticky with dough, her hair prematurely grey with flour.
They aren't curled together, barely even touching except for the way their fingertips are bent lightly, meeting just at the ends. A lovers' embrace Karan thinks before she can stop herself and in that instant realizes just who this boy is, with his deep grey hair and shadowed features and those covered eyes which she is sure are the colour of mousy fur.
She smiles at them, letting tears slip into her eyes now, while they can't see, before turning away.
Karan flips the sign on the shop door and ushers in the day.
Author: lifelink
Fandom: NO.6
Paring: Shion/Nezumi
Rating: PG
Words: 544
Summary: Language is the source of misunderstandings. Shion, Nezumi, and a kiss under the setting sun.
Notes: Originally written for epicsoup. A happily ever after where Nezumi comes back. The title pertains to farewells.
Shion watches from the balcony, white hair lilting lazily in moonlight that can no longer halted by iron, concrete, and lies. It's a blank world now, neither the great city nor the spiraling slums, but a fantastic amalgam of the two, fighting to create a new story under these identical stars and sky.
Steam swirls in small spirals from the surface of his tea and it reminds him, just the whole world has since the wall fell, of Nezumi and their candlelit meals in the cool underground.
It has been weeks and Shion can't forget. Not about Safu (whom he will always love), not about his the tight grasp of his mother (who has grown so strong in his absence), not about all the blood and rage and what it was like to disappear from the world (cold, dark and so cold, but Shion can still hear those echoic strains of melody).
What he remembers most vividly is Nezumi and the way he sang, the way he laughed, the way he kissed him, soft and insistent and raw.
It isn't the kiss that is important, not to Shion (a kiss is mere nature and biology, just strings of numbers and animalistic gestures towards continued survival), and the matter lies in what it represents. Shion kissed Nezumi once, because he is true no matter what, because some stories can only be told through action, because he was leaving and wanted a chance to be stopped.
This is why, under that sunset on the edge of that dying, dying, but so alive city, Shion let Nezumi press their lips together, to see what needed to say. Nezumi is an actor, after all, and Shion knows from scraps of ancient books and plays, from all his experience watching, being in that world, how comforting lies are and how easily one might fall into them. But that, standing there as they had, half flushed from desert heat and their own rapidly calming hearts, could have been nothing but true.
Nezumi kisses Shion because of the way the shadows play on his face, because he is alive and a city is dead, because Nezumi can't stay but that doesn't mean he won't come back.
Now, Shion lets his eyes train on the sky, mind racing for remembered star maps and constellations names. The rat, just above the horizon line, appearing with the start of spring and new beginnings, all it's stars twinkling away with harsh caprice.
There is a rustle to his right, like the sound of scuttling mice, and Shion smiles a welcome.
-
Karan finds them in the morning, when her hands are sticky with dough, her hair prematurely grey with flour.
They aren't curled together, barely even touching except for the way their fingertips are bent lightly, meeting just at the ends. A lovers' embrace Karan thinks before she can stop herself and in that instant realizes just who this boy is, with his deep grey hair and shadowed features and those covered eyes which she is sure are the colour of mousy fur.
She smiles at them, letting tears slip into her eyes now, while they can't see, before turning away.
Karan flips the sign on the shop door and ushers in the day.