[drabbledump] Song!drabbles x7
This is probably the last you'll hear from me in a while - I've been busy with my Hols fic and all through November I'll be occupied by exams and Nanowrimo. Here's some drabbles to tide you over!
Song!drabble challenge
So, you put your player on shuffle and as it plays you are to write. You start when it starts and stop when the song ends. You are not allowed to skip songs and you can only revise them after you are done.
~
Ohgojima / fluff
Every day on their walk home, she never fails to point out the stars sparkling in the sky.
“Look,” she’ll say. “Aren’t they so pretty, Yuto?”
He’ll just nod, ruffling her hair. Today goes the same way, and her eyes shine so much like the stars she’s admiring as she tries to point out Orion in the sky.
“I’d like to become a star someday,” she murmurs. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No worries, no sickness, just me and the night sky and all my other star friends.”
He stays quiet, simply giving her fingers intertwined in his a small squeeze.
To me, you’re already a star, Suzuka, he thinks, but never says it out loud. Just like admiring the stars in the sky, he’s content the way he is, simply seeing her star-like eyes sparkle at him every day.
Beautiful, perfect, simply indescribable.
~
Yamashi / fluff
The school courtyard is filled with squeals and laughter as the graduating students file out from the school hall.
“Are you going to university then?”
“Yeah,” Mirai smiles slightly. “I got accepted at Aoyama. How about you?”
Yamada shakes his head.
“JUMP’s been getting more and more activity these days, I’m not sure if I can juggle university and work like Inoo-kun did.”
“That means we’ll be seeing much less of each other then,” Mirai says, and Yamada smiles softly.
“We’ll still meet up,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I won’t forget our three years here. It’ll always stay gold to me.”
Giggling, Mirai punches his arm jokingly.
“Sentimental idiot.”
~
Tamamiya / tragedy
The cold gray stone slab stands firm in front of him, as though it is mocking him in its silence.
He doesn’t even bother about the sticky, salty tears leaving trails of wet down his cheeks as he reaches out to touch the stone one last time.
“I guess this is goodbye,” he murmurs.
He’ll never see Miyata’s smile again, the toothy one as bright as the sun, the one part he knows he will miss the most.
Goodbye, Yuta, a faint voice echoes in his head, and he sighs, turning away.
In his world, the sun has set, the shadows long and gray, never to see another sunrise.
~
Maotsujun / angst
He comes back to their apartment late again.
Mao knows where he’s been - Jun’s never been good at lying to her, and she’s seen a couple of the texts in his phone before. She’s known for a while that she’s no longer the most important person in his heart.
She stays, anyway.
Jun tells her that Kou is no more than a friend now, that their romantic relationship is over, gone, done for. Mao’s all who’s in his heart now, he says.
Mao finds it a little hard to believe.
She wonders why - is it because she’s not a good girlfriend? Did he ever love her at all?
She lies in bed as his dark form slips under the covers of his bed - they sleep in separate beds now - and her head is full of nothing but maybes.
~
Sanazawa / friendship
Nozawa is hopelessly, hopelessly lost.
Being a transfer student is never a good thing, especially when his new school is practically a labyrinth of corridors and more corridors. He’s supposed to be in classroom 3, but he has seen at least four of those already.
“Hey,” says a voice behind him. “You lost or something?”
He spins around to see another boy slightly shorter than him.
“Yeah,” he says awkwardly. “I’m new. I’m supposed to be in classroom 3 now, for Homeroom?”
The boy glances at him, and at Nozawa’s huge pile of books.
“You a second year?”
Nozawa nods, and the boy nods.
“You’re in my class. I’ll take you there. My name’s Sanada, by the way.”
He says this all in a rush, and Nozawa can’t help but smile as Sanada grabs half his book pile and starts walking ahead.
“W-wait for me!” he yells, running to catch up with Sanada’s surprisingly fast walking pace.
It’s going to be a good day.
~
UedaRyoko / angst - Heavily based off Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass
“You’ll have to close the window,” the angel tells them quietly. “You need to close all the windows you find, otherwise the essence of the world will keep leaking away.”
“All?” Ryoko whispers, hands reaching out to feel for the edges of the interdimensional window.
“All,” the angel says firmly. “If not the world will die. It is only a matter of time.”
On the other side of the window she sees Ueda look back at her, biting his lip.
“So we can never see each other again?” he asks.
“No,” says the angel. “You do not belong in her world, and vice versa. Eventually the fabric of the other world will reject you and you will wither away and die.”
Ryoko begins to cry, softly. She may not have spent a long time with the copper-haired boy from the other world, but it’s enough to know she sees him as more of a friend, and that he does too.
Ueda reaches through the window, and takes her hand a final time.
“Look up at the stars every night,” he murmurs. “Pretend they’re me, watching over you, alright?”
She nods slowly, squeezing his hand.
“I’ll miss you.”
“I will too,” he says gently, tucking a copper curl behind his ear. “It’s for the best. Live long, be happy. We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmurs.
His hand draws away, and then his fingers are pinching the inter-dimensional window smaller and smaller.
The last thing she sees is his left eye, sparkling exactly like a star in the sky. One more pinch, and the window closes for good.
And she is alone.
~
Umichii / general - loosely based off the French ballet Coppelia
“Will you dance for me?”
The girl in front of him does not reply, but then again Chinen has long known that he will never get an answer. Still, he always tries.
Taking her stiff hand in his, he lifts her up from her chair and begins to sway about the room, waltzing to the strains of Frank Sinatra playing in his head.
“You’re a wonderful dancer, Umika,” he murmurs.
There is no reply, but again, he’s not expecting one.
Her soft black hair flicks into his face as they spin, and he laughs softly, flicking it away. The soft cotton skirt she wears brushes against his knees.
Her face remains impassionate - she does not smile, nor does she showcase any other sort of emotion.
She is but a simple wooden doll, after all.
Song!drabble challenge
So, you put your player on shuffle and as it plays you are to write. You start when it starts and stop when the song ends. You are not allowed to skip songs and you can only revise them after you are done.
~
Ohgojima / fluff
Every day on their walk home, she never fails to point out the stars sparkling in the sky.
“Look,” she’ll say. “Aren’t they so pretty, Yuto?”
He’ll just nod, ruffling her hair. Today goes the same way, and her eyes shine so much like the stars she’s admiring as she tries to point out Orion in the sky.
“I’d like to become a star someday,” she murmurs. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No worries, no sickness, just me and the night sky and all my other star friends.”
He stays quiet, simply giving her fingers intertwined in his a small squeeze.
To me, you’re already a star, Suzuka, he thinks, but never says it out loud. Just like admiring the stars in the sky, he’s content the way he is, simply seeing her star-like eyes sparkle at him every day.
Beautiful, perfect, simply indescribable.
~
Yamashi / fluff
The school courtyard is filled with squeals and laughter as the graduating students file out from the school hall.
“Are you going to university then?”
“Yeah,” Mirai smiles slightly. “I got accepted at Aoyama. How about you?”
Yamada shakes his head.
“JUMP’s been getting more and more activity these days, I’m not sure if I can juggle university and work like Inoo-kun did.”
“That means we’ll be seeing much less of each other then,” Mirai says, and Yamada smiles softly.
“We’ll still meet up,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I won’t forget our three years here. It’ll always stay gold to me.”
Giggling, Mirai punches his arm jokingly.
“Sentimental idiot.”
~
Tamamiya / tragedy
The cold gray stone slab stands firm in front of him, as though it is mocking him in its silence.
He doesn’t even bother about the sticky, salty tears leaving trails of wet down his cheeks as he reaches out to touch the stone one last time.
“I guess this is goodbye,” he murmurs.
He’ll never see Miyata’s smile again, the toothy one as bright as the sun, the one part he knows he will miss the most.
Goodbye, Yuta, a faint voice echoes in his head, and he sighs, turning away.
In his world, the sun has set, the shadows long and gray, never to see another sunrise.
~
Maotsujun / angst
He comes back to their apartment late again.
Mao knows where he’s been - Jun’s never been good at lying to her, and she’s seen a couple of the texts in his phone before. She’s known for a while that she’s no longer the most important person in his heart.
She stays, anyway.
Jun tells her that Kou is no more than a friend now, that their romantic relationship is over, gone, done for. Mao’s all who’s in his heart now, he says.
Mao finds it a little hard to believe.
She wonders why - is it because she’s not a good girlfriend? Did he ever love her at all?
She lies in bed as his dark form slips under the covers of his bed - they sleep in separate beds now - and her head is full of nothing but maybes.
~
Sanazawa / friendship
Nozawa is hopelessly, hopelessly lost.
Being a transfer student is never a good thing, especially when his new school is practically a labyrinth of corridors and more corridors. He’s supposed to be in classroom 3, but he has seen at least four of those already.
“Hey,” says a voice behind him. “You lost or something?”
He spins around to see another boy slightly shorter than him.
“Yeah,” he says awkwardly. “I’m new. I’m supposed to be in classroom 3 now, for Homeroom?”
The boy glances at him, and at Nozawa’s huge pile of books.
“You a second year?”
Nozawa nods, and the boy nods.
“You’re in my class. I’ll take you there. My name’s Sanada, by the way.”
He says this all in a rush, and Nozawa can’t help but smile as Sanada grabs half his book pile and starts walking ahead.
“W-wait for me!” he yells, running to catch up with Sanada’s surprisingly fast walking pace.
It’s going to be a good day.
~
UedaRyoko / angst - Heavily based off Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass
“You’ll have to close the window,” the angel tells them quietly. “You need to close all the windows you find, otherwise the essence of the world will keep leaking away.”
“All?” Ryoko whispers, hands reaching out to feel for the edges of the interdimensional window.
“All,” the angel says firmly. “If not the world will die. It is only a matter of time.”
On the other side of the window she sees Ueda look back at her, biting his lip.
“So we can never see each other again?” he asks.
“No,” says the angel. “You do not belong in her world, and vice versa. Eventually the fabric of the other world will reject you and you will wither away and die.”
Ryoko begins to cry, softly. She may not have spent a long time with the copper-haired boy from the other world, but it’s enough to know she sees him as more of a friend, and that he does too.
Ueda reaches through the window, and takes her hand a final time.
“Look up at the stars every night,” he murmurs. “Pretend they’re me, watching over you, alright?”
She nods slowly, squeezing his hand.
“I’ll miss you.”
“I will too,” he says gently, tucking a copper curl behind his ear. “It’s for the best. Live long, be happy. We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmurs.
His hand draws away, and then his fingers are pinching the inter-dimensional window smaller and smaller.
The last thing she sees is his left eye, sparkling exactly like a star in the sky. One more pinch, and the window closes for good.
And she is alone.
~
Umichii / general - loosely based off the French ballet Coppelia
“Will you dance for me?”
The girl in front of him does not reply, but then again Chinen has long known that he will never get an answer. Still, he always tries.
Taking her stiff hand in his, he lifts her up from her chair and begins to sway about the room, waltzing to the strains of Frank Sinatra playing in his head.
“You’re a wonderful dancer, Umika,” he murmurs.
There is no reply, but again, he’s not expecting one.
Her soft black hair flicks into his face as they spin, and he laughs softly, flicking it away. The soft cotton skirt she wears brushes against his knees.
Her face remains impassionate - she does not smile, nor does she showcase any other sort of emotion.
She is but a simple wooden doll, after all.