lol
roflma....
why???
Pft, oh Ken, plaid nail varnish??? REALY?????
hahahahaha oh god it hurts so bad....
anyways:
. The carnival was fun again this year, the floats were a bit so so compaired to the amazingness of last year and someone realy missed a trick by not going with an Avatar theme (the blue guys not the airbender!!) but otherwise...
. Today my ancle feels entirly better and at last it's stopped being swollen. It's also finally developed a bruise....it's the size of the end of the teeny pinky and this fact realy, realy dispoints me. I mean all that pain and shamefull hobbling deserved a proper wacking great bruise.
. I now have both I-tunes available Seeker albums in my possesion...I'm so gonna burn them off onto disc so that I can add them up with the collection. Yeh I am a nerd like that!!!
. I'm starting the fic posting at long last!! Have chapter one of "teather"
The smell of disinfectant sharp in his nose, the general background hum of chatter, feet on linoleum and the occasional heart monitor are as a constant reminder of just where he was…of what he had somehow allowed himself to do.
It was not, truthfully, the most shocking of actions he had ever committed, though there was the sure feeling in the back of his mind that it should be, that the compulsions he felt always in connection to the other should have somehow been smothered out by the arguments and the bitter edge of betrayal.
He managed to believe that for all of a week, the heat of his anger centring his mind on important task of moving forwards, of doing what he could with the vestiges of his life. Then he’d somehow drifted towards one of their concerts, had watched at the very back of the venue, scarf pulled tight against his nose for fear of one of the crowd recognising him, or even…
Seeing him on stage, hair pulled high and long, elegant body bouncing about in a never ceasing array of movement, had been as coming home and he’d longed for the chance to be there again at his side.
Then he’d bounced over to the other, drawing just a little closer than was necessary and, as the fan girls had gone wild about him, he’d pulled the misery he felt for the intimacy close in the hope that that would be as an end to it.
Yet he’d continued coming to the concerts, continued watching the news for the faintest scrap of information and listening, with a deliberately disinterested air as the various Smoker staff members gave over stories of the other’s welfare.
When news had gotten to him about the accident he’d been in his car before he could rationalise why, or indeed before he could explain away his sudden flight to the amassed force of his band.
Wincing a little for the prodding that was certain to come from that particular lack of foresight he hitches a deep breath and, strolling forward with a players confidence, he enquires,
“I was told I might find Ito Kenichi here, is that correct?”
“I’m sorry, it’s family only…” The rest of the sentence trails as she at last lifts her head up and away from her computer screen. He can see the recognition, the flood of questions as well as the instant that she bottles everything up under polite geniality.
“Look I know it’s not really the norm, but I’d like to keep things as low key as possible and it’s not as though his family is coming any time soon.” The words are unnecessarily harsh and a little franker than is socially acceptable, however whether for the intimacy such a thing denotes, or the thought of the story she shall have to tell later in the day, she simply smiles a genial smile and gestures down the corridor.
“He’s in room 16 and keep him quite, please. His bones need time to set.”
His mind flashes again with vivid images full of blood and, feeling sick to the stomach; he performs a polite little bow before all but running down the indicated corridor.
All the confidence and certainty drains from him the very instant he is before the other’s room and, swallowing hard against the sudden desperate need to vomit, he wills a shaking hand to the handle.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exert a gentle twisting motion. Push ever so gently. Exhale. Inhale. Walk forward.
He looks pail, the fact emphasised somewhat harshly by the obnoxiously bright shade of red that his hair currently sports and the faint hint of shadows under his eyes.
“You look terrible.” Of all the things he could have said, of all the things to spill from his clumsy, clumsy, tongue it had to be that…had to be something so casually familiar given the circumstances, something that said oh so much more than he had wanted to.
For his part the other simply smiles and free hand making a sweeping gesture over the various areas of plastered or bandaged skin, he retorts,
“Yeh accidents will do that to you.”
“I’m a little hazy on the details.”
“Hm, I guess that’s the price you pay from picking everything up third hand.” There is a very obvious edge to the remark and taking in a deep breath, he counters,
“I won’t apologise, I had every reason to leave the way I did and to think that staying away would be the best course of action.”
A bark of hard, hard, laughter and then, “Why the hell did you come here then…in fact why the hell are you there at every damned concert, watching me as though it’s the only thing you can do?” He moves faster than is probably wise, his one free hand pulling him down so that they are again skin to skin.
Lip to lip.
A landscape of memories flood him at the contact, a thousand nights of embraces such as this, of the scent of him everywhere and his skin burning as though on fire…it is so easy to forget that they have been anything but this, so easy to get lost in the simple emotional aspect of this all.
The memory of their last night together, of the anger that’d had him out in the rain in the thinnest layer of clothing, hands shacking as he drew a cigarette to his lips and cried out his pain, starts him back to reality and he pushes gently from the other’s grip.
“You know why, but it doesn’t matter. That life is over. This is over.”
“I don’t believe that and neither do you. Somehow something keeps drawing us back together.”
“I wish it wouldn’t…I trusted you, Ken and you betrayed that…betrayed me.”
“Perhaps and yet didn’t you do the same thing?”
The implication that that he had somehow misconstrued the situation, that he had left the other as hurt as he had been despite the hateful things that had been said on that very last night, dissolves the last of his resolve and drawing himself fully away from the other he says,
“Think what you need to help you sleep at night.” Before he turns tail and runs.
I promise that the angst goes away eventually!!
why???
Pft, oh Ken, plaid nail varnish??? REALY?????
hahahahaha oh god it hurts so bad....
anyways:
. The carnival was fun again this year, the floats were a bit so so compaired to the amazingness of last year and someone realy missed a trick by not going with an Avatar theme (the blue guys not the airbender!!) but otherwise...
. Today my ancle feels entirly better and at last it's stopped being swollen. It's also finally developed a bruise....it's the size of the end of the teeny pinky and this fact realy, realy dispoints me. I mean all that pain and shamefull hobbling deserved a proper wacking great bruise.
. I now have both I-tunes available Seeker albums in my possesion...I'm so gonna burn them off onto disc so that I can add them up with the collection. Yeh I am a nerd like that!!!
. I'm starting the fic posting at long last!! Have chapter one of "teather"
The smell of disinfectant sharp in his nose, the general background hum of chatter, feet on linoleum and the occasional heart monitor are as a constant reminder of just where he was…of what he had somehow allowed himself to do.
It was not, truthfully, the most shocking of actions he had ever committed, though there was the sure feeling in the back of his mind that it should be, that the compulsions he felt always in connection to the other should have somehow been smothered out by the arguments and the bitter edge of betrayal.
He managed to believe that for all of a week, the heat of his anger centring his mind on important task of moving forwards, of doing what he could with the vestiges of his life. Then he’d somehow drifted towards one of their concerts, had watched at the very back of the venue, scarf pulled tight against his nose for fear of one of the crowd recognising him, or even…
Seeing him on stage, hair pulled high and long, elegant body bouncing about in a never ceasing array of movement, had been as coming home and he’d longed for the chance to be there again at his side.
Then he’d bounced over to the other, drawing just a little closer than was necessary and, as the fan girls had gone wild about him, he’d pulled the misery he felt for the intimacy close in the hope that that would be as an end to it.
Yet he’d continued coming to the concerts, continued watching the news for the faintest scrap of information and listening, with a deliberately disinterested air as the various Smoker staff members gave over stories of the other’s welfare.
When news had gotten to him about the accident he’d been in his car before he could rationalise why, or indeed before he could explain away his sudden flight to the amassed force of his band.
Wincing a little for the prodding that was certain to come from that particular lack of foresight he hitches a deep breath and, strolling forward with a players confidence, he enquires,
“I was told I might find Ito Kenichi here, is that correct?”
“I’m sorry, it’s family only…” The rest of the sentence trails as she at last lifts her head up and away from her computer screen. He can see the recognition, the flood of questions as well as the instant that she bottles everything up under polite geniality.
“Look I know it’s not really the norm, but I’d like to keep things as low key as possible and it’s not as though his family is coming any time soon.” The words are unnecessarily harsh and a little franker than is socially acceptable, however whether for the intimacy such a thing denotes, or the thought of the story she shall have to tell later in the day, she simply smiles a genial smile and gestures down the corridor.
“He’s in room 16 and keep him quite, please. His bones need time to set.”
His mind flashes again with vivid images full of blood and, feeling sick to the stomach; he performs a polite little bow before all but running down the indicated corridor.
All the confidence and certainty drains from him the very instant he is before the other’s room and, swallowing hard against the sudden desperate need to vomit, he wills a shaking hand to the handle.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exert a gentle twisting motion. Push ever so gently. Exhale. Inhale. Walk forward.
He looks pail, the fact emphasised somewhat harshly by the obnoxiously bright shade of red that his hair currently sports and the faint hint of shadows under his eyes.
“You look terrible.” Of all the things he could have said, of all the things to spill from his clumsy, clumsy, tongue it had to be that…had to be something so casually familiar given the circumstances, something that said oh so much more than he had wanted to.
For his part the other simply smiles and free hand making a sweeping gesture over the various areas of plastered or bandaged skin, he retorts,
“Yeh accidents will do that to you.”
“I’m a little hazy on the details.”
“Hm, I guess that’s the price you pay from picking everything up third hand.” There is a very obvious edge to the remark and taking in a deep breath, he counters,
“I won’t apologise, I had every reason to leave the way I did and to think that staying away would be the best course of action.”
A bark of hard, hard, laughter and then, “Why the hell did you come here then…in fact why the hell are you there at every damned concert, watching me as though it’s the only thing you can do?” He moves faster than is probably wise, his one free hand pulling him down so that they are again skin to skin.
Lip to lip.
A landscape of memories flood him at the contact, a thousand nights of embraces such as this, of the scent of him everywhere and his skin burning as though on fire…it is so easy to forget that they have been anything but this, so easy to get lost in the simple emotional aspect of this all.
The memory of their last night together, of the anger that’d had him out in the rain in the thinnest layer of clothing, hands shacking as he drew a cigarette to his lips and cried out his pain, starts him back to reality and he pushes gently from the other’s grip.
“You know why, but it doesn’t matter. That life is over. This is over.”
“I don’t believe that and neither do you. Somehow something keeps drawing us back together.”
“I wish it wouldn’t…I trusted you, Ken and you betrayed that…betrayed me.”
“Perhaps and yet didn’t you do the same thing?”
The implication that that he had somehow misconstrued the situation, that he had left the other as hurt as he had been despite the hateful things that had been said on that very last night, dissolves the last of his resolve and drawing himself fully away from the other he says,
“Think what you need to help you sleep at night.” Before he turns tail and runs.
I promise that the angst goes away eventually!!