[APH] there's a warm wind blowing the stars around
Title: there's a warm wind blowing the stars around
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Japan, Greece
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/G/AU, a story not about themselves?
Summary/Excerpt: Kiku is a mangaka and Herakles is a novelist. They're both stuck in an artistic rut and help each other out.
A/N: I was supposed to post this after I had written the actual thing they were talking about here but I love you guys and happy birthday to meeee so yay! ♥ Also, I'm bad at titles. Google it, it's a lovely song, I'd Really Love to See You Tonight by England Dan and John Ford Coley.
Forgive some typos! I'm not on my own laptop tonight. Also, some words. Seinen indicates the age range older than shounen (y'know, like josei and shoujo...aw c'mon). BL is of course, Boys' Love. Also, Reborn fans! Read the product of their brainstorming here, starring Hibari and Yamamoto!
there's a warm wind blowing the stars around
The sky was already dark when Honda Kiku straightened in his seat.
Remnants of his greasy dinner lay in a colorful crumple on the brown tray by his right elbow. Half a paper cup of what used to be hot coffee stood forgotten nearest the window pane of the 24-hour McDonalds. A round pouch of pens was to his left and his manuscript lay in front of him, slightly creased from all the preparatory smoothing but still clean and undrawn.
He had unwittingly spent the last four hours sitting at the bar and looking at the bustling metropolis outside in the hopes of getting inspired enough for a sketch or two. But his mind had wandered and before he knew it, the crowds had dwindled and the large neon display on a skyscraper by the intersection flashed 23:14.
"Ah. I've missed the last train."
Kiku turned in mild surprise to whoever had voiced his thoughts and saw a tall man three seats away from his. There were many somethings about the man that kept Kiku staring. His physique screamed 'model' despite looking shabby and fresh out of bed. His face showed clear traces of foreign lineage but the shape of his jaw and cheeks tied him to an Asian heritage. His eyes were a clear blue-green that drew Kiku in. Crumpled food wrappings were also beside him, as well as several empty coffee cups. A selection of pencils stood in a thin plastic cylinder by the window and blank sheets of lined paper were barely concealed by his shapely forearm.
He poised to write and Kiku's eyebrow rose in interest, but when the man lowered his pencil and sighed, Kiku immediately felt a bit of sympathy for him.
"Writer's Block?" he asked, feeling unusually daring.
The man turned to him in surprise but smiled courteously. "You could say," he answered in a sleepy tenor and Kiku saw his blue eyes briefly fall on his things. "Pretty tricky, isn't it?"
Kiku blinked. "What is?"
"Capturing this," said the man and returned to looking outside. Kiku followed his gaze, knowing exactly how he felt. The city wasn't lively now, considering the time but it was beautiful nonetheless, be it filled with people during the day and city lights by evening.
"Sometimes I think," the man continued. "It'd be easier if I could draw, then I could tell my story exactly as I see it in my head."
Kiku was sweetly intrigued. "And how would it go?"
"First panel on the left, there's a sliver of moving bicycle. Then in the next, summer flowers growing out of the sidewalk. In the next, an old man sweeping fallen leaves from the steps of a shrine. And then a trio of housewives having a chat by the curve of a street, a cat asleep under a parked car, a part-timer bringing in a box of melon pan into a konbini. The wide Sunday road. Scribbles of trees and suburb by the left, barely a fourth of the panel, a train line at the center and the city to the right. Two highschoolers riding in tandem, silhouetted against an immense 5pm sky."
He sighed.
"With just that, the readers get the feeling that the world is absolutely amazing without you having to describe how overwhelming the simplicity of such everyday scenes should be."
"Are they in love?" Kiku asked. "The highschoolers..."
"They don't have to be. It's the fullness in the image that gives you and idea of what their relationship is, an idea that doesn't have a name. Just..." He made a fist and did a pounding motion by his chest, just over his heart and Kiku understood.
He sat back and stared at his own blank manuscript. "Well sometimes I think," he began. "It'd be easier if I could be a magician with words. I could make my readers struggle alongside my characters, instead of having them watch scenes from a life that isn't theirs."
The man looked at him.
"A fluidity in awkward movements and conversations. The contrast between the complexity of one's thoughts from the brevity of what is said. Getting away with descriptions such as 'He looked like cheesecake.' and leaving out details to the imagination of the readers. Delivering killer lines."
"These are the grievances of our laziness," the man said and they both laughed before lapsing into a comfortable silence.
"May I know your name?" Kiku asked.
"It's Herakles Karpusi," the man answered and when Kiku's eyes lit up with inquiry, he added. "My father is foreign. May I know yours?"
"Honda Kiku," Kiku said and touched his papers in a moment of indecisiveness before continuing. "Would...would you like to get a drink with me somewhere? I mean, aside from here."
Herakles laughed. "Are there any cafes still open this late?" And when Kiku colored at this realization, he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "But I'd love to, y'know. Going somewhere. There's this grill downtown that serves excellent yakitori and yakisoba. If you're still up for a midnight meal."
"That's perfect." Kiku replied and began tidying up his things. "After all, we've missed the last train."
And out of the corner of his eye, he saw Herakles momentarily pause in fixing his own belongings. There was a small smile on his face.
"I guess we did."
- - - -
"Heeeh..." Herakles remarked, impressed, and ate a bite of yakisoba. "So you're a seinen mangaka for a monthly publication? What have you drawn? Are you famous?"
Kiku laughed and took a sip of his beer. "You ask like my classmates at reunions. But it's nothing like that. I draw and earn my keep. I get into slumps sometimes but I'm not starving. Life gives me a lot of material to work on."
"That's true. Do you do anything else besides?"
"Deadlines keep me busy but occasionally, I paint."
The starstruck, wide-eyed look on Herakles face prompted Kiku to clarify his statement, with some amusement. "For establishments, I mean. Like the walls of bars and night clubs."
"You," Herakles declared. "are the coolest person I have ever met."
"Come off it," Kiku said, blushing appreciatively. "And what about you? I haven't heard a name like yours in the bookstores."
"I use a pen name," the other man answered simply and at Kiku's slight frown of puzzlement, whispered to him what it was.
"AH!" Kiku exclaimed in shock and pointed to him. "You're a famous BL novelist!"
"Ssh! Ssh!" Herakles hissed and hurriedly grabbed the finger aimed at him. "Not so loud!"
"Uwa..." Kiku said, still in awe. "I should be the one thoroughly impressed here."
"Eh? You read BL?"
"I have some titles at home and I've dappled in the genre a bit."
"But I thought you draw seinen manga."
"I do but they're more of...what you'd call alternative."
"Ah."
Sizzles from the kitchen, laughter and talk from the other patrons and clinks of cutlery filled the lull in their conversation. It was half past midnight yet the restaurant was still lively. Yellow lighting bounced off the pale cream of the bamboo furniture, creating a warm, cheery atmosphere enjoy by mostly employees on their night shift and groups of celebratory salarymen out for beer and a late dinner. There were couples here and there, nursing drinks by the smoking area. Considering the number of love hotels in the vicinity, there was no question as to where they were headed next.
Kiku ate a bite of yakitori to distract himself from his thoughts. "So..." he began after swallowing. "What's your story about?"
Herakles looked up from his meal. "Hm? I already told you. It's about two highschoolers. They've got a sort of 'What is it, this feeling?' thing going on. I can't seem to get it off the ground after that."
Kiku stared at him with half a stick of chicken in his mouth. "You're kidding."
"No? Why?"
He thought there wasn't any harm in telling him. "The oneshot I'm planning goes something along those lines."
Herakles sported a bemused look. "Which are...?"
"None whatsoever."
He laughed heartily and Kiku's chest warmed. "Shall we help each other out?" he asked.
"Alright," Herakles said and they ate it silence for a few minutes.
"Student council president!"
"Captain of the baseball team!"
Both of them had exclaimed the protagonists in unison, chopsticks pointing at each other in their twin eureka moments.
"Classes are over and there aren't any pressing issues to discuss." Kiku continued. "There's no one in the council room save for the president. His window is open and he's watching the baseball club practice."
"From the third floor, he's got a perfect view." Herakles supplemented. "He's already skipped an entire day of class but somehow doesn't want to go home."
"An entire day?" Kiku asked. "But isn't he supposed to be a model student?"
Herakles hummed. "Not really. He's good at managing people, through terror most of the time and has the interests of the student body at heart. But other than that, he's this sort of mysterious, cool, stoic guy, both feared and respected."
"Ah. I see. And somehow he can't take his eyes off the captain of the baseball team--"
"--the way his sweat soaks his jersey--"
"--the way his neck moves when he swallows--"
"--the way he licks his lips and jogs to the benches to get a drink of water."
"Because the student council president is..."
"Aroused?" Herakles asked.
"In shock." Kiku explained with the air of a detective disclosing the happenings of a bamboozling crime. "Because he can't help but remember how the baseball captain looked after they--"
"--took down an entire gang of street punks."
Kiku inhaled and made a fist to hold back his outburst. "Perfect."
Herakles grinned and downed his glass of beer in one go. "They hadn't spoken to each other till that fateful afternoon. They didn't even talk to each other while they were fighting side by side."
"And once it was all over, they just walked away together, unsure of where to go and becoming increasingly aware of how awkward their situation was."
"Until the baseball captain suggested they go to the beach."
Kiku nodded. "But neither of them had a car and it was too far for a bike ride so they rode the train."
"Unwittingly, the student council president fell asleep on the baseball captain's shoulder."
"They arrived on the beach at sunset and the captain didn't say a thing. He instead watched the president take off his shoes and walk barefoot along the shore."
"He started to think he's the prettiest person he's ever seen, bloody and bruised and all."
"But never voiced it out because he knew of the council president's pride and would have surely gotten a punch for saying he'd look dead sexy in a red kimono--"
"--with a gold obi."
They paused for breath, amazed at how far they had gotten. Kiku dimly wondered if he should be taking notes and figured it wouldn't be so bad if he'd actually forget all these details.
"And then?" Herakles asked, clear blue eyes fixed upon him. His plate was empty and his fifth beer mug gone. There was a lovely pink staining his olive cheeks and goosebumps prickled Kiku's skin.
"The image stops," he said, placing his chopsticks down. "I'd get distracted by Snow Patrol's Chocolate playing in my head."
"A foreign band's?" Herakles asked. "Is it a song about them?"
"Not exactly, but it could be."
"Ah, I've got one. Voxtrot's Ghost."
"That's foreign too."
"It suits them."
"Even though they're Japanese?"
"Music is transcendental."
After a moment's pause, Kiku continued. "The story ends with both of them on the school rooftop. They have their back toward the railings, elbows barely touching. They tell each other they hate each other's guts but make no move to exchange blows without reason. They're bad for each other."
"But somehow they just can't stay away."
"Do they kiss?"
Herakles grinned again. "I'd make them kiss. You'd probably plunge them into a dream and make them wake up at the point where everything never began."
"The moment where it was all just a sheet of static from when their eyes met as they were walking down the road in opposite directions," Kiku agreed.
"Trippy."
"Or I'll probably end up listening to music while watching their story unfold before my eyes. Unable to draw--"
"--or write it down."
Cheesy love songs laced the sounds of the grill house. It was almost half past one in the morning and most of the customers had gone home.
"Should we become musicians instead?" Herakles asked and Kiku laughed.
END
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Japan, Greece
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/G/AU, a story not about themselves?
Summary/Excerpt: Kiku is a mangaka and Herakles is a novelist. They're both stuck in an artistic rut and help each other out.
A/N: I was supposed to post this after I had written the actual thing they were talking about here but I love you guys and happy birthday to meeee so yay! ♥ Also, I'm bad at titles. Google it, it's a lovely song, I'd Really Love to See You Tonight by England Dan and John Ford Coley.
Forgive some typos! I'm not on my own laptop tonight. Also, some words. Seinen indicates the age range older than shounen (y'know, like josei and shoujo...aw c'mon). BL is of course, Boys' Love. Also, Reborn fans! Read the product of their brainstorming here, starring Hibari and Yamamoto!
there's a warm wind blowing the stars around
The sky was already dark when Honda Kiku straightened in his seat.
Remnants of his greasy dinner lay in a colorful crumple on the brown tray by his right elbow. Half a paper cup of what used to be hot coffee stood forgotten nearest the window pane of the 24-hour McDonalds. A round pouch of pens was to his left and his manuscript lay in front of him, slightly creased from all the preparatory smoothing but still clean and undrawn.
He had unwittingly spent the last four hours sitting at the bar and looking at the bustling metropolis outside in the hopes of getting inspired enough for a sketch or two. But his mind had wandered and before he knew it, the crowds had dwindled and the large neon display on a skyscraper by the intersection flashed 23:14.
"Ah. I've missed the last train."
Kiku turned in mild surprise to whoever had voiced his thoughts and saw a tall man three seats away from his. There were many somethings about the man that kept Kiku staring. His physique screamed 'model' despite looking shabby and fresh out of bed. His face showed clear traces of foreign lineage but the shape of his jaw and cheeks tied him to an Asian heritage. His eyes were a clear blue-green that drew Kiku in. Crumpled food wrappings were also beside him, as well as several empty coffee cups. A selection of pencils stood in a thin plastic cylinder by the window and blank sheets of lined paper were barely concealed by his shapely forearm.
He poised to write and Kiku's eyebrow rose in interest, but when the man lowered his pencil and sighed, Kiku immediately felt a bit of sympathy for him.
"Writer's Block?" he asked, feeling unusually daring.
The man turned to him in surprise but smiled courteously. "You could say," he answered in a sleepy tenor and Kiku saw his blue eyes briefly fall on his things. "Pretty tricky, isn't it?"
Kiku blinked. "What is?"
"Capturing this," said the man and returned to looking outside. Kiku followed his gaze, knowing exactly how he felt. The city wasn't lively now, considering the time but it was beautiful nonetheless, be it filled with people during the day and city lights by evening.
"Sometimes I think," the man continued. "It'd be easier if I could draw, then I could tell my story exactly as I see it in my head."
Kiku was sweetly intrigued. "And how would it go?"
"First panel on the left, there's a sliver of moving bicycle. Then in the next, summer flowers growing out of the sidewalk. In the next, an old man sweeping fallen leaves from the steps of a shrine. And then a trio of housewives having a chat by the curve of a street, a cat asleep under a parked car, a part-timer bringing in a box of melon pan into a konbini. The wide Sunday road. Scribbles of trees and suburb by the left, barely a fourth of the panel, a train line at the center and the city to the right. Two highschoolers riding in tandem, silhouetted against an immense 5pm sky."
He sighed.
"With just that, the readers get the feeling that the world is absolutely amazing without you having to describe how overwhelming the simplicity of such everyday scenes should be."
"Are they in love?" Kiku asked. "The highschoolers..."
"They don't have to be. It's the fullness in the image that gives you and idea of what their relationship is, an idea that doesn't have a name. Just..." He made a fist and did a pounding motion by his chest, just over his heart and Kiku understood.
He sat back and stared at his own blank manuscript. "Well sometimes I think," he began. "It'd be easier if I could be a magician with words. I could make my readers struggle alongside my characters, instead of having them watch scenes from a life that isn't theirs."
The man looked at him.
"A fluidity in awkward movements and conversations. The contrast between the complexity of one's thoughts from the brevity of what is said. Getting away with descriptions such as 'He looked like cheesecake.' and leaving out details to the imagination of the readers. Delivering killer lines."
"These are the grievances of our laziness," the man said and they both laughed before lapsing into a comfortable silence.
"May I know your name?" Kiku asked.
"It's Herakles Karpusi," the man answered and when Kiku's eyes lit up with inquiry, he added. "My father is foreign. May I know yours?"
"Honda Kiku," Kiku said and touched his papers in a moment of indecisiveness before continuing. "Would...would you like to get a drink with me somewhere? I mean, aside from here."
Herakles laughed. "Are there any cafes still open this late?" And when Kiku colored at this realization, he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "But I'd love to, y'know. Going somewhere. There's this grill downtown that serves excellent yakitori and yakisoba. If you're still up for a midnight meal."
"That's perfect." Kiku replied and began tidying up his things. "After all, we've missed the last train."
And out of the corner of his eye, he saw Herakles momentarily pause in fixing his own belongings. There was a small smile on his face.
"I guess we did."
- - - -
"Heeeh..." Herakles remarked, impressed, and ate a bite of yakisoba. "So you're a seinen mangaka for a monthly publication? What have you drawn? Are you famous?"
Kiku laughed and took a sip of his beer. "You ask like my classmates at reunions. But it's nothing like that. I draw and earn my keep. I get into slumps sometimes but I'm not starving. Life gives me a lot of material to work on."
"That's true. Do you do anything else besides?"
"Deadlines keep me busy but occasionally, I paint."
The starstruck, wide-eyed look on Herakles face prompted Kiku to clarify his statement, with some amusement. "For establishments, I mean. Like the walls of bars and night clubs."
"You," Herakles declared. "are the coolest person I have ever met."
"Come off it," Kiku said, blushing appreciatively. "And what about you? I haven't heard a name like yours in the bookstores."
"I use a pen name," the other man answered simply and at Kiku's slight frown of puzzlement, whispered to him what it was.
"AH!" Kiku exclaimed in shock and pointed to him. "You're a famous BL novelist!"
"Ssh! Ssh!" Herakles hissed and hurriedly grabbed the finger aimed at him. "Not so loud!"
"Uwa..." Kiku said, still in awe. "I should be the one thoroughly impressed here."
"Eh? You read BL?"
"I have some titles at home and I've dappled in the genre a bit."
"But I thought you draw seinen manga."
"I do but they're more of...what you'd call alternative."
"Ah."
Sizzles from the kitchen, laughter and talk from the other patrons and clinks of cutlery filled the lull in their conversation. It was half past midnight yet the restaurant was still lively. Yellow lighting bounced off the pale cream of the bamboo furniture, creating a warm, cheery atmosphere enjoy by mostly employees on their night shift and groups of celebratory salarymen out for beer and a late dinner. There were couples here and there, nursing drinks by the smoking area. Considering the number of love hotels in the vicinity, there was no question as to where they were headed next.
Kiku ate a bite of yakitori to distract himself from his thoughts. "So..." he began after swallowing. "What's your story about?"
Herakles looked up from his meal. "Hm? I already told you. It's about two highschoolers. They've got a sort of 'What is it, this feeling?' thing going on. I can't seem to get it off the ground after that."
Kiku stared at him with half a stick of chicken in his mouth. "You're kidding."
"No? Why?"
He thought there wasn't any harm in telling him. "The oneshot I'm planning goes something along those lines."
Herakles sported a bemused look. "Which are...?"
"None whatsoever."
He laughed heartily and Kiku's chest warmed. "Shall we help each other out?" he asked.
"Alright," Herakles said and they ate it silence for a few minutes.
"Student council president!"
"Captain of the baseball team!"
Both of them had exclaimed the protagonists in unison, chopsticks pointing at each other in their twin eureka moments.
"Classes are over and there aren't any pressing issues to discuss." Kiku continued. "There's no one in the council room save for the president. His window is open and he's watching the baseball club practice."
"From the third floor, he's got a perfect view." Herakles supplemented. "He's already skipped an entire day of class but somehow doesn't want to go home."
"An entire day?" Kiku asked. "But isn't he supposed to be a model student?"
Herakles hummed. "Not really. He's good at managing people, through terror most of the time and has the interests of the student body at heart. But other than that, he's this sort of mysterious, cool, stoic guy, both feared and respected."
"Ah. I see. And somehow he can't take his eyes off the captain of the baseball team--"
"--the way his sweat soaks his jersey--"
"--the way his neck moves when he swallows--"
"--the way he licks his lips and jogs to the benches to get a drink of water."
"Because the student council president is..."
"Aroused?" Herakles asked.
"In shock." Kiku explained with the air of a detective disclosing the happenings of a bamboozling crime. "Because he can't help but remember how the baseball captain looked after they--"
"--took down an entire gang of street punks."
Kiku inhaled and made a fist to hold back his outburst. "Perfect."
Herakles grinned and downed his glass of beer in one go. "They hadn't spoken to each other till that fateful afternoon. They didn't even talk to each other while they were fighting side by side."
"And once it was all over, they just walked away together, unsure of where to go and becoming increasingly aware of how awkward their situation was."
"Until the baseball captain suggested they go to the beach."
Kiku nodded. "But neither of them had a car and it was too far for a bike ride so they rode the train."
"Unwittingly, the student council president fell asleep on the baseball captain's shoulder."
"They arrived on the beach at sunset and the captain didn't say a thing. He instead watched the president take off his shoes and walk barefoot along the shore."
"He started to think he's the prettiest person he's ever seen, bloody and bruised and all."
"But never voiced it out because he knew of the council president's pride and would have surely gotten a punch for saying he'd look dead sexy in a red kimono--"
"--with a gold obi."
They paused for breath, amazed at how far they had gotten. Kiku dimly wondered if he should be taking notes and figured it wouldn't be so bad if he'd actually forget all these details.
"And then?" Herakles asked, clear blue eyes fixed upon him. His plate was empty and his fifth beer mug gone. There was a lovely pink staining his olive cheeks and goosebumps prickled Kiku's skin.
"The image stops," he said, placing his chopsticks down. "I'd get distracted by Snow Patrol's Chocolate playing in my head."
"A foreign band's?" Herakles asked. "Is it a song about them?"
"Not exactly, but it could be."
"Ah, I've got one. Voxtrot's Ghost."
"That's foreign too."
"It suits them."
"Even though they're Japanese?"
"Music is transcendental."
After a moment's pause, Kiku continued. "The story ends with both of them on the school rooftop. They have their back toward the railings, elbows barely touching. They tell each other they hate each other's guts but make no move to exchange blows without reason. They're bad for each other."
"But somehow they just can't stay away."
"Do they kiss?"
Herakles grinned again. "I'd make them kiss. You'd probably plunge them into a dream and make them wake up at the point where everything never began."
"The moment where it was all just a sheet of static from when their eyes met as they were walking down the road in opposite directions," Kiku agreed.
"Trippy."
"Or I'll probably end up listening to music while watching their story unfold before my eyes. Unable to draw--"
"--or write it down."
Cheesy love songs laced the sounds of the grill house. It was almost half past one in the morning and most of the customers had gone home.
"Should we become musicians instead?" Herakles asked and Kiku laughed.
END