☂ fitting you with weapons in the form of words:
★ motionesque you've done it. I'm still way behind but now I'm hopelessly in love with YGO 5Ds. God I love the duels, they make your head swim. ♥ And Yuusei has SUPERB hair, I say. And I have no idea if I SHIP IT but...well, whatever.
★ If you haven't, drop me a line at the VOICE POST MEME ~
★ gogomeganes you have inspired me to create my own version of the Seven Deadly Sins, orz. I ship Wrath/Sloth LIKE BURNING. Someone tell me I'm not alone. ):
Author: nerrin
Rating: G to PG13 for boykissing.
Character/Pairing(s): Sloth/Wrath - in my 'verse, they go by different names.
Warning(s): They're just normal guys that stand for each Sin? Highschool. Written as I went.
Summary: Nic calls it 'a meeting of fates'. Leo says it's 'a trainwreck'.
+
From Day One, they both knew (probably) that they'd never work out well. They weren't complimentary.
"You're too rash," Nic drawls, in that lazy, lazy way of his. He likes slumping across desks, he likes twirling pens, sticking them behind an ear, then forgetting all about them. A fringe of croppy black falls over his glazed eyes as he leans forward, and presses a mechanical pencil into Leo's hands. "Too rash."
The day is wearing on. Five o'clock, and there's no one around, or about to see anything, hear anything. But they were in school, the desks in disarray - somewhere in a corner, a camera watches. So Nic doesn't move; he just hands the pencil over.
Leo snatches it from his hands, and sits down. Tracing the shadows of thoughts across paper, he signs his name, over and over. For a moment, only the rough scratching is heard. In the distance, a crow caws, long and lonely.
He mutters thanks, and hands the pencil back. Nic stashes it in his bag. He's too lazy to bother with pencil cases. All these years, he's never owned one. Papers were stacked, not filed. Stationary was thrown, not kept. That was the way he worked.
Nic feels a slight tug on the left sleeve of his uniform. He turns to Leo, and the latter's hair is outlined in fierce colors by the setting sun. Poetic, if a little strange how all the jagged, waxed spikes stood out. Nic has never understood the need to wax, or gel hair. He just let his grow.
"Yeah?" he says, uncertain, head tilted. He's not really one for waxing poetic. Neither was Leo. Maybe in that sense, they weren't so different after all.
"Eraser."
Nic fumbles in his bag. Produces one, eventually. "Here," and he hands it to the other boy.
"It's kinda moldy," Leo gripes, but uses it anyway. He rubs out his penciled mistakes with increasing intensity, and dust collects as the paper thins.
"You can have it."
"No," Leo mutters, and chucks the tiny thing out of the nearest window. It sails through the air, then plunges, three stories down. Doesn't bounce back up. Leo's amber gaze still watches the air Nic's ex-eraser once occupied, waiting for a miracle that'd never happen.
Head still cradled in crossed arms, Nic watches. He likes watching other people. The way they moved, the way they talked, they way the spoke to each other and built meaningful, if not sometimes flimsy relationships. He likes watching, and learning. Nics thinks, that if he were to watch Leo for the rest of his life, that he'd never stop learning new things.
The way his eyes glow when excited, the crazy way he smiles, his raven hair standing on end after a particularly exciting scene, or the way something just snaps in his mind when he's enraged, and breaking something. Leo brought beauty to destruction as some could manage to breathe beauty into a fight.
"Nic," Leo says, suddenly. "Nic."
Nic looks at him, through strands of hair. He smiles, and reaches out a hand. Leo doesn't flinch from the soft touch, as Nic traces lines and pathways across not-smooth, but not-craggy skin. Simple, fleeting movements, and Nic curls his fingers around hair, cups Leo's face with another hand.
All of a sudden Leo is on him in a flash, a messy tumble of limbs as they crash to the ground, legs and arms splayed everywhere. They fall into the fluttering of scripts forgotten, tools unused. Nic gasps, and his grip tightens, fisting more of the boy's soft, soft hair. They always begun like this, this is why he sometimes thinks that they were doomed to failure from the very beginning. Yet he chooses to stay, and why?
Leo seems to catch the question in Nic's hazy eyes, as they lie there in an uncomfortable tangle, breaths heavy and labored. The floor is cold, and the chill seeps to Nic's back.
"Don't say anything," says Leo. "Don't think about anything." It's a command Nic finds easy enough to obey.
Then their lips meet in a messy clash of tongue, and teeth.
END.
This was the first time I wrote something like this.
My life is so boring and right now, I hate it. Moodswinging much, self? I'll just go angst somewhere now.
★ If you haven't, drop me a line at the VOICE POST MEME ~
★ gogomeganes you have inspired me to create my own version of the Seven Deadly Sins, orz. I ship Wrath/Sloth LIKE BURNING. Someone tell me I'm not alone. ):
Author: nerrin
Rating: G to PG13 for boykissing.
Character/Pairing(s): Sloth/Wrath - in my 'verse, they go by different names.
Warning(s): They're just normal guys that stand for each Sin? Highschool. Written as I went.
Summary: Nic calls it 'a meeting of fates'. Leo says it's 'a trainwreck'.
+
From Day One, they both knew (probably) that they'd never work out well. They weren't complimentary.
"You're too rash," Nic drawls, in that lazy, lazy way of his. He likes slumping across desks, he likes twirling pens, sticking them behind an ear, then forgetting all about them. A fringe of croppy black falls over his glazed eyes as he leans forward, and presses a mechanical pencil into Leo's hands. "Too rash."
The day is wearing on. Five o'clock, and there's no one around, or about to see anything, hear anything. But they were in school, the desks in disarray - somewhere in a corner, a camera watches. So Nic doesn't move; he just hands the pencil over.
Leo snatches it from his hands, and sits down. Tracing the shadows of thoughts across paper, he signs his name, over and over. For a moment, only the rough scratching is heard. In the distance, a crow caws, long and lonely.
He mutters thanks, and hands the pencil back. Nic stashes it in his bag. He's too lazy to bother with pencil cases. All these years, he's never owned one. Papers were stacked, not filed. Stationary was thrown, not kept. That was the way he worked.
Nic feels a slight tug on the left sleeve of his uniform. He turns to Leo, and the latter's hair is outlined in fierce colors by the setting sun. Poetic, if a little strange how all the jagged, waxed spikes stood out. Nic has never understood the need to wax, or gel hair. He just let his grow.
"Yeah?" he says, uncertain, head tilted. He's not really one for waxing poetic. Neither was Leo. Maybe in that sense, they weren't so different after all.
"Eraser."
Nic fumbles in his bag. Produces one, eventually. "Here," and he hands it to the other boy.
"It's kinda moldy," Leo gripes, but uses it anyway. He rubs out his penciled mistakes with increasing intensity, and dust collects as the paper thins.
"You can have it."
"No," Leo mutters, and chucks the tiny thing out of the nearest window. It sails through the air, then plunges, three stories down. Doesn't bounce back up. Leo's amber gaze still watches the air Nic's ex-eraser once occupied, waiting for a miracle that'd never happen.
Head still cradled in crossed arms, Nic watches. He likes watching other people. The way they moved, the way they talked, they way the spoke to each other and built meaningful, if not sometimes flimsy relationships. He likes watching, and learning. Nics thinks, that if he were to watch Leo for the rest of his life, that he'd never stop learning new things.
The way his eyes glow when excited, the crazy way he smiles, his raven hair standing on end after a particularly exciting scene, or the way something just snaps in his mind when he's enraged, and breaking something. Leo brought beauty to destruction as some could manage to breathe beauty into a fight.
"Nic," Leo says, suddenly. "Nic."
Nic looks at him, through strands of hair. He smiles, and reaches out a hand. Leo doesn't flinch from the soft touch, as Nic traces lines and pathways across not-smooth, but not-craggy skin. Simple, fleeting movements, and Nic curls his fingers around hair, cups Leo's face with another hand.
All of a sudden Leo is on him in a flash, a messy tumble of limbs as they crash to the ground, legs and arms splayed everywhere. They fall into the fluttering of scripts forgotten, tools unused. Nic gasps, and his grip tightens, fisting more of the boy's soft, soft hair. They always begun like this, this is why he sometimes thinks that they were doomed to failure from the very beginning. Yet he chooses to stay, and why?
Leo seems to catch the question in Nic's hazy eyes, as they lie there in an uncomfortable tangle, breaths heavy and labored. The floor is cold, and the chill seeps to Nic's back.
"Don't say anything," says Leo. "Don't think about anything." It's a command Nic finds easy enough to obey.
Then their lips meet in a messy clash of tongue, and teeth.
END.
This was the first time I wrote something like this.
My life is so boring and right now, I hate it. Moodswinging much, self? I'll just go angst somewhere now.