red x green - there's an eyelash on your cheek
Title: there's an eyelash on your cheek
Pairing: Red x Green
Rating: Gen.
there's an eyelash on your cheek
there's this something that makes him stop, stills his breathing for a second.
it's a scene, whether familiar or strangely deja-vu, that clenches around his heart like a ballad from childhood.
the sunlight's pouring through a half-opened window, sliding along an empty desk and diving onto the tiled floor. he can see the swirls of dust under it's golden touch and a peek of summer green over the window sill.
the view seems slightly awkward, and he can't quite put his finger on what's missing.
he's about to backtrack and guide his steps to the door when, suddenly, it hits him. oh.
green's missing.
~
he's walking down well-worn streets, cement-bruises on the soles of his feet and the sweet burn of noon against his neck. he's a part of the urban scene, colorful and mechanic, and he smiles suggestively at a young girl in a sundress looking his way. she blushes and scurries off, swallowed by the crowd of weekend shoppers, and he catches a last glimpse of ebony hair before she disappears.
he has a hobby, if anyone ever asked (but no one ever bothered to); and it's not spending time in the bathtub with his beloved eevee.
he likes people-watching.
he's not the kind to sit near the door of a cafe and stare at the people passing by; he walks and lets his engin wander, lets the smell of city smoke drive him where he needs to go. he goes to the people, doesn't give them time to come to him, and with slightly lidded eyes he flickers over their lives a second before skipping onto the next.
like that girl, leaning on a pillar at the entrance of the mall, obscured by the shade. she's probably waiting for her boyfriend, who'll never show up because he's too busy running down tamer streets with his next door neighbor -- stars etched into their eyes and lips sewn upward, away from the cold glare of downtown, and his next door neighbor is a pretty boy with chestnut hair and a persimmon smile.
his feet stop, abruptly, mid-movement, and his whole being stills along with it. he stays put, lets the world drift past him a second, and doesn't try to deny anything when his mind strays into its darkest corners --
where a boy, six years of age, with a bright red smile to make the sun crack and bleed, lies in wait, dormant until the day he dares return to those other summer noons.
to be continued
Pairing: Red x Green
Rating: Gen.
there's an eyelash on your cheek
there's this something that makes him stop, stills his breathing for a second.
it's a scene, whether familiar or strangely deja-vu, that clenches around his heart like a ballad from childhood.
the sunlight's pouring through a half-opened window, sliding along an empty desk and diving onto the tiled floor. he can see the swirls of dust under it's golden touch and a peek of summer green over the window sill.
the view seems slightly awkward, and he can't quite put his finger on what's missing.
he's about to backtrack and guide his steps to the door when, suddenly, it hits him. oh.
green's missing.
~
he's walking down well-worn streets, cement-bruises on the soles of his feet and the sweet burn of noon against his neck. he's a part of the urban scene, colorful and mechanic, and he smiles suggestively at a young girl in a sundress looking his way. she blushes and scurries off, swallowed by the crowd of weekend shoppers, and he catches a last glimpse of ebony hair before she disappears.
he has a hobby, if anyone ever asked (but no one ever bothered to); and it's not spending time in the bathtub with his beloved eevee.
he likes people-watching.
he's not the kind to sit near the door of a cafe and stare at the people passing by; he walks and lets his engin wander, lets the smell of city smoke drive him where he needs to go. he goes to the people, doesn't give them time to come to him, and with slightly lidded eyes he flickers over their lives a second before skipping onto the next.
like that girl, leaning on a pillar at the entrance of the mall, obscured by the shade. she's probably waiting for her boyfriend, who'll never show up because he's too busy running down tamer streets with his next door neighbor -- stars etched into their eyes and lips sewn upward, away from the cold glare of downtown, and his next door neighbor is a pretty boy with chestnut hair and a persimmon smile.
his feet stop, abruptly, mid-movement, and his whole being stills along with it. he stays put, lets the world drift past him a second, and doesn't try to deny anything when his mind strays into its darkest corners --
where a boy, six years of age, with a bright red smile to make the sun crack and bleed, lies in wait, dormant until the day he dares return to those other summer noons.
to be continued