[Drabbles] in10minutes
So Pips, Kara, Jenni, and I decided to play a writing game! (You get a prompt and write something in ten minutes.) Results! ♥
Communication Problems
→ Yara/Yamamoto, PG, 271 words
“…What’s there to say?” Yamamoto said finally, holding his hands out, palms upright. His voice was soft, and it was obvious he was struggling to speak while holding tears back, “You were suddenly gone. There was nothing. No note, no phone call… nothing.”
He shook his head, turning away from Yara to gaze at the sea of lights below them, like a glittering ocean of life. The lights were reflected perfectly in his glistening eyes.
Yara wished that he could tell Yamamoto the truth. That he’d never meant to leave, and that he had left to protect everyone, Yamamoto especially, but he couldn’t. Koichi had made that clear before Yara had left the sanctuary. He could never tell Yamamoto how much it had pained him to leave behind everything they’d held together, because he knew it was not supposed to matter anymore.
Yamamoto’s words were barely a whisper, a whisper that was stolen away by the wind, but Yara heard every word, “I just wish I’d known… that I’d have to let go some day.”
The boy laughed even as he wiped the tears away. “You know you grow up on those fairytales… ‘And they all lived happily ever after’… I really thought I’d found that, Yara.”
How Yara wished to reach out, to pull Yamamoto into his arms. How he wished he could turn back time and take away the pain. He’d never wanted to hurt Yamamoto, and while he knew he’d left to keep Yamamoto alive, knowing that he had caused Yamamoto pain was knowledge he could never shake.
I’m sorry.
But that was something he could never say either.
Personal Space ♦
→ Tamamori/Yamamoto, PG, 235 words
There’s something about Yamamoto that Tamamori has always, always found annoying, even outside of work. It’s hard to escape, what with Yamamoto being in his same class (though admittedly, Senga would not have been any better).
“Stop that,” he says crossly, when Yamamoto practically hops into his lap. They are not that close of friends. Tamamori wouldn’t have let Miyata or Fujigaya do that either. Their classmates notice and the group of girls in the corner starts to giggle.
“C’mon,” Yamamoto coaxes with bright smiles, right in Tamamori’s face. “You’re so uptight, Tama.”
Tamamori promptly dumps Yamamoto onto the floor and walks out as quickly as he can, trying to ignore the second burst of giggling from his classmates.
But Yamamoto is nothing if persistent and Tamamori wonders if he must resign himself to Yamamoto invading every spare minute he possesses.
“Stop that,” he hisses. This time Yamamoto’s snuck up behind him, stealing his iced tea as he leans against Tamamori.
“But I like this kind and the machines are out… I’ll pay you back?” Yamamoto flashes Tamamori that smile. Tamamori’s not sure why that smile works so well on Yara and the rest, it makes him think of when his puppy used to pee on the carpet in excitement. “Or you could share it with me~?” The question is entirely too hopeful.
Tamamori decides he’s had enough.
“I spit in that earlier, you know.”
Temptation
→ Yokoo/Fujigaya, PG-13, 274 words (Warning: Blood)
“You’ll regret this,” Fujigaya had told Yokoo before he’d unlocked the chains. Yokoo should have heeded the warning, but he hadn’t expected Fujigaya to move so quickly.
Fujigaya slammed into Yokoo, quickly pinning him to the ground, hellish wings spread behind him. It was the fire, though, that froze Yokoo in place. The raging blaze in Fujigaya’s eyes that threatened to consume Yokoo’s very soul.
“You have no idea…” Fujigaya said, voice unsteady. His hands shook from exertion, probably to keep himself from simply crushing Yokoo’s bones. “You have no idea, Yokoo… You will never know the hunger. The desire to rip your heart out and drink your blood until there is nothing left.”
He should have been terrified, Yokoo knew, but the fire was there and Yokoo wanted nothing more but to pick up the chain, not to bind Fujigaya’s wings, not to imprison him again, but to simply keep Fujigaya right there. To let the fire consume them both until there was nothing left but the dead ashes.
They stared at each other, Yokoo unable to move a single muscle as he waited. Eventually Fujigaya seemed to recover, his grip relaxing before he slowly pulled away. There was a throbbing pain in Yokoo’s shoulders once Fujigaya pulled away, and Yokoo soon realized that the angel had sunk his claw in deep.
There was blood on Fujigaya’s fingers, and he stared at it, trembling, and Yokoo watched in fascinated horror as Fujigaya bent his head to lick his fingers clean. It was disgusting, but also perfect.
When his hands were clean, Fujigaya looked back at Yokoo, unrepentant.
“You will never understand the hunger.”
"Trust is like a paper. Once it's crumpled it can't be perfect again." ♦
→ Kawai/Fujigaya, PG-13, 271 words (Warning: implied/attempted suicide)
“Taisuke, don’t do it,” Kawai breathed out, inching closer.
Fujigaya was crying, and this time it wasn’t the sad tears Kawai was used to wiping away. It was broken and it was destroyed. But Fujigaya wasn’t looking at Kawai, he was looking down the twenty stories of the building, at the pavement below. “There’s nothing left, Fumito.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Kawai said again, wanting to run, to tear Fujigaya away from the edge. To save Fujigaya the way he should have ages ago. But Kawai had never been able to stop the trainwreck, instead he’d simply tried to deflect and repair Fujigaya’s damage. He’d been the one with the laugh and the joke. He hadn’t been prepared for this.
Fujigaya rocked on the small stone wall that separated him from a tragedy. “Will you lie to me too, Fumito? Tell me… tell me it’ll be okay.”
It hurt, because right then Kawai wanted to say anything, knew he would have done anything for Fujigaya, but he wouldn’t lie. He’d give Fujigaya that much, give Fujigaya what he’d always given him. His honesty (and his heart).
“It’s not,” he said, taking another step forward, hand outstretched. “But it can’t be if you won’t let me help you…” If he took a leap now, he could save him, even if a part of him knew Fujigaya did not want to be saved.
Kawai took another step forward (damn, Fujigaya felt unreachable). It scared him, the way the tears had faded, leaving Fujigaya exhausted and empty. He seemed to slump, rocking more precariously. “I don’t know if I can, Fumito.”
“Taisuke!”
Crayons
→ Yuto/Takaki, PG, 289 words
They’d fallen out of Yuto’s bag. Why Yuto had been carrying crayons around with him was a question Takaki didn’t know the answer to, but he didn’t really dwell on it either, carefully picking up the box and opening it to reveal the magic rainbow.
Takaki had loved crayons as a child. He could remember playing with them with his sisters and then his brother, creating new worlds of fresh color and vibrant life. The pictures had never been perfect, but he’d been happy making them. It had been a kind of magic that he had held onto for years.
These days Takaki wished he could go back to that time, filled with smudged, but forgivable lines, and laughter. He wished he could create again, to build or rebuild those worlds with life and color, because when he looked at himself, he had neither.
“Something wrong, Yuya?” Yuto had appeared while Takaki had slipped back in time, and now he glanced curiously from the crayons in Takaki’s hand to his face.
Takaki felt muddled, not quite knowing what he wanted to say and emotion - pure, raw emotion - had stolen his words away. He stared down at the box, trying to explain to Yuto how he felt.
“If I were a crayon,” he said finally, reaching into the box and pulling out the purple crayon. It was the shortest of the bunch, looking rather battered with a missing label and nail marks. “This would be me.”
Yuto considered this for a moment, lips pursed in thought before he reached out and folded Takaki’s fingers over the crayon. There was a moment of silence and then Yuto smiled. “Ne, Yuya, did you know that’s my favorite crayon?”
Communication Problems
→ Yara/Yamamoto, PG, 271 words
“…What’s there to say?” Yamamoto said finally, holding his hands out, palms upright. His voice was soft, and it was obvious he was struggling to speak while holding tears back, “You were suddenly gone. There was nothing. No note, no phone call… nothing.”
He shook his head, turning away from Yara to gaze at the sea of lights below them, like a glittering ocean of life. The lights were reflected perfectly in his glistening eyes.
Yara wished that he could tell Yamamoto the truth. That he’d never meant to leave, and that he had left to protect everyone, Yamamoto especially, but he couldn’t. Koichi had made that clear before Yara had left the sanctuary. He could never tell Yamamoto how much it had pained him to leave behind everything they’d held together, because he knew it was not supposed to matter anymore.
Yamamoto’s words were barely a whisper, a whisper that was stolen away by the wind, but Yara heard every word, “I just wish I’d known… that I’d have to let go some day.”
The boy laughed even as he wiped the tears away. “You know you grow up on those fairytales… ‘And they all lived happily ever after’… I really thought I’d found that, Yara.”
How Yara wished to reach out, to pull Yamamoto into his arms. How he wished he could turn back time and take away the pain. He’d never wanted to hurt Yamamoto, and while he knew he’d left to keep Yamamoto alive, knowing that he had caused Yamamoto pain was knowledge he could never shake.
I’m sorry.
But that was something he could never say either.
Personal Space ♦
→ Tamamori/Yamamoto, PG, 235 words
There’s something about Yamamoto that Tamamori has always, always found annoying, even outside of work. It’s hard to escape, what with Yamamoto being in his same class (though admittedly, Senga would not have been any better).
“Stop that,” he says crossly, when Yamamoto practically hops into his lap. They are not that close of friends. Tamamori wouldn’t have let Miyata or Fujigaya do that either. Their classmates notice and the group of girls in the corner starts to giggle.
“C’mon,” Yamamoto coaxes with bright smiles, right in Tamamori’s face. “You’re so uptight, Tama.”
Tamamori promptly dumps Yamamoto onto the floor and walks out as quickly as he can, trying to ignore the second burst of giggling from his classmates.
But Yamamoto is nothing if persistent and Tamamori wonders if he must resign himself to Yamamoto invading every spare minute he possesses.
“Stop that,” he hisses. This time Yamamoto’s snuck up behind him, stealing his iced tea as he leans against Tamamori.
“But I like this kind and the machines are out… I’ll pay you back?” Yamamoto flashes Tamamori that smile. Tamamori’s not sure why that smile works so well on Yara and the rest, it makes him think of when his puppy used to pee on the carpet in excitement. “Or you could share it with me~?” The question is entirely too hopeful.
Tamamori decides he’s had enough.
“I spit in that earlier, you know.”
Temptation
→ Yokoo/Fujigaya, PG-13, 274 words (Warning: Blood)
“You’ll regret this,” Fujigaya had told Yokoo before he’d unlocked the chains. Yokoo should have heeded the warning, but he hadn’t expected Fujigaya to move so quickly.
Fujigaya slammed into Yokoo, quickly pinning him to the ground, hellish wings spread behind him. It was the fire, though, that froze Yokoo in place. The raging blaze in Fujigaya’s eyes that threatened to consume Yokoo’s very soul.
“You have no idea…” Fujigaya said, voice unsteady. His hands shook from exertion, probably to keep himself from simply crushing Yokoo’s bones. “You have no idea, Yokoo… You will never know the hunger. The desire to rip your heart out and drink your blood until there is nothing left.”
He should have been terrified, Yokoo knew, but the fire was there and Yokoo wanted nothing more but to pick up the chain, not to bind Fujigaya’s wings, not to imprison him again, but to simply keep Fujigaya right there. To let the fire consume them both until there was nothing left but the dead ashes.
They stared at each other, Yokoo unable to move a single muscle as he waited. Eventually Fujigaya seemed to recover, his grip relaxing before he slowly pulled away. There was a throbbing pain in Yokoo’s shoulders once Fujigaya pulled away, and Yokoo soon realized that the angel had sunk his claw in deep.
There was blood on Fujigaya’s fingers, and he stared at it, trembling, and Yokoo watched in fascinated horror as Fujigaya bent his head to lick his fingers clean. It was disgusting, but also perfect.
When his hands were clean, Fujigaya looked back at Yokoo, unrepentant.
“You will never understand the hunger.”
"Trust is like a paper. Once it's crumpled it can't be perfect again." ♦
→ Kawai/Fujigaya, PG-13, 271 words (Warning: implied/attempted suicide)
“Taisuke, don’t do it,” Kawai breathed out, inching closer.
Fujigaya was crying, and this time it wasn’t the sad tears Kawai was used to wiping away. It was broken and it was destroyed. But Fujigaya wasn’t looking at Kawai, he was looking down the twenty stories of the building, at the pavement below. “There’s nothing left, Fumito.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Kawai said again, wanting to run, to tear Fujigaya away from the edge. To save Fujigaya the way he should have ages ago. But Kawai had never been able to stop the trainwreck, instead he’d simply tried to deflect and repair Fujigaya’s damage. He’d been the one with the laugh and the joke. He hadn’t been prepared for this.
Fujigaya rocked on the small stone wall that separated him from a tragedy. “Will you lie to me too, Fumito? Tell me… tell me it’ll be okay.”
It hurt, because right then Kawai wanted to say anything, knew he would have done anything for Fujigaya, but he wouldn’t lie. He’d give Fujigaya that much, give Fujigaya what he’d always given him. His honesty (and his heart).
“It’s not,” he said, taking another step forward, hand outstretched. “But it can’t be if you won’t let me help you…” If he took a leap now, he could save him, even if a part of him knew Fujigaya did not want to be saved.
Kawai took another step forward (damn, Fujigaya felt unreachable). It scared him, the way the tears had faded, leaving Fujigaya exhausted and empty. He seemed to slump, rocking more precariously. “I don’t know if I can, Fumito.”
“Taisuke!”
Crayons
→ Yuto/Takaki, PG, 289 words
They’d fallen out of Yuto’s bag. Why Yuto had been carrying crayons around with him was a question Takaki didn’t know the answer to, but he didn’t really dwell on it either, carefully picking up the box and opening it to reveal the magic rainbow.
Takaki had loved crayons as a child. He could remember playing with them with his sisters and then his brother, creating new worlds of fresh color and vibrant life. The pictures had never been perfect, but he’d been happy making them. It had been a kind of magic that he had held onto for years.
These days Takaki wished he could go back to that time, filled with smudged, but forgivable lines, and laughter. He wished he could create again, to build or rebuild those worlds with life and color, because when he looked at himself, he had neither.
“Something wrong, Yuya?” Yuto had appeared while Takaki had slipped back in time, and now he glanced curiously from the crayons in Takaki’s hand to his face.
Takaki felt muddled, not quite knowing what he wanted to say and emotion - pure, raw emotion - had stolen his words away. He stared down at the box, trying to explain to Yuto how he felt.
“If I were a crayon,” he said finally, reaching into the box and pulling out the purple crayon. It was the shortest of the bunch, looking rather battered with a missing label and nail marks. “This would be me.”
Yuto considered this for a moment, lips pursed in thought before he reached out and folded Takaki’s fingers over the crayon. There was a moment of silence and then Yuto smiled. “Ne, Yuya, did you know that’s my favorite crayon?”