Memento Mori (Aoi/Uruha, Oneshot)
Title: Memento Mori
Author: SCIENCESAVES
Genre: Drama, Romance, Drabble
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Suggestiveness, adult situations
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Summary: The hour hand on my wristwatch ticks the time and reads, “remember.”
The earth revolves around the sun once every 24 hours.
The hour hand on my wristwatch ticks the time and reads, “remember”
the minute hand, “you will die.”
One thousand four hundred and forty minutes.
You wore white that night.
The color cut my mouth; rushed in like a rip tide when I kissed the blushing cleft above your collarbone.
Your back arched just above the swell
lungs dripping promises from the inside
thin fingers with skin pulled tight, like lips against teeth,
held me close
the cartilage in my nose made a tiny pop
against the hollow of your throat
“more,” you laughed with blackout eyes, wild and destructive,
pulled me closer
and let grey plumes of smoke swallow your mascara-smudged face.
Now there’s the taste of suffocating.
Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.
You were singing softly, between broken breaths,
“Have we lost our minds...”
And the smell of summer fireworks was caught in your hair when I pressed my open mouth to--
to what?
too much blood pulsing in your upturned throat
just beneath the skin
“I’m in your possession…”
pounding blood that dropped against my lips
bachi beating against body
blood pulsing
heavy like prayer beads
in the withered hands of a monk.
“You are so beautiful.”
You gasped, god-drawn, prodigal son, “everything is beautiful at first,”
dragged your nails across my thigh and kissed me hard.
Your lips reminded me sharply of every way the world could end.
Martyr
flesh for flesh,
now there’s the feeling of drowning.
Sometimes the hours were really days.
You went to bed without saying goodnight.
And I gazed out the window at the edges of trees
how they bled and feathered into the shadow of a cityscape.
Shattered glass, a broken window
the gnashing of tinkling glass
that screams from its shards, “we’re broken.”
we’re broken.
Liquid habits dripping from eyelashes
pooling in dark patches on rumpled feather pillows
ashes drifting listlessly into blonde hair so I could easily imagine we really were growing old together.
Eventually the days are years.
"I love you," the girl whispered.
"I love you," said the boy, quietly.
"I love you," she whispered again
more earnestly this time.
You rolled your eyes
and I couldn’t help but laugh
because the whites of your eyes
made you looked like a horse at the gate.
“Let’s go.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Let’s go because
they sounded like people at a funeral.
***
( archive )
Author: SCIENCESAVES
Genre: Drama, Romance, Drabble
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Suggestiveness, adult situations
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Summary: The hour hand on my wristwatch ticks the time and reads, “remember.”
The earth revolves around the sun once every 24 hours.
The hour hand on my wristwatch ticks the time and reads, “remember”
the minute hand, “you will die.”
One thousand four hundred and forty minutes.
You wore white that night.
The color cut my mouth; rushed in like a rip tide when I kissed the blushing cleft above your collarbone.
Your back arched just above the swell
lungs dripping promises from the inside
thin fingers with skin pulled tight, like lips against teeth,
held me close
the cartilage in my nose made a tiny pop
against the hollow of your throat
“more,” you laughed with blackout eyes, wild and destructive,
pulled me closer
and let grey plumes of smoke swallow your mascara-smudged face.
Now there’s the taste of suffocating.
Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.
You were singing softly, between broken breaths,
“Have we lost our minds...”
And the smell of summer fireworks was caught in your hair when I pressed my open mouth to--
to what?
too much blood pulsing in your upturned throat
just beneath the skin
“I’m in your possession…”
pounding blood that dropped against my lips
bachi beating against body
blood pulsing
heavy like prayer beads
in the withered hands of a monk.
“You are so beautiful.”
You gasped, god-drawn, prodigal son, “everything is beautiful at first,”
dragged your nails across my thigh and kissed me hard.
Your lips reminded me sharply of every way the world could end.
Martyr
flesh for flesh,
now there’s the feeling of drowning.
Sometimes the hours were really days.
You went to bed without saying goodnight.
And I gazed out the window at the edges of trees
how they bled and feathered into the shadow of a cityscape.
Shattered glass, a broken window
the gnashing of tinkling glass
that screams from its shards, “we’re broken.”
we’re broken.
Liquid habits dripping from eyelashes
pooling in dark patches on rumpled feather pillows
ashes drifting listlessly into blonde hair so I could easily imagine we really were growing old together.
Eventually the days are years.
"I love you," the girl whispered.
"I love you," said the boy, quietly.
"I love you," she whispered again
more earnestly this time.
You rolled your eyes
and I couldn’t help but laugh
because the whites of your eyes
made you looked like a horse at the gate.
“Let’s go.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Let’s go because
they sounded like people at a funeral.
***
( archive )