Just under the deadline…
It's not too late for this response, is it? It's not my best work, but I'm not great at working under a time limit. I'm pretty happy with it overall, I guess. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment things.
Title: Not Like This
Challenge: Spring Rain
Canon: Shortly post-manga
Pairing: Kind of Eriol/Kaho…but not really.
Genre: Angst, I guess
Rating: PG
Word Count: 256
Summary: She had thought they would be in love.
She sits alone at the window, staring out at the rain falling over the English countryside.
He finds her there and says, "Kaho."
When she doesn't reply, he puts his arms around her from behind. She feels cold to him, but he can't tell whether he's sensing her mood or just her temperature.
Finally she stirs and speaks. "It's always raining here," she says.
"It rains in Japan, too."
It would be better, he thinks, better and easier, if she would look at him. She could shift in her chair right now, turn around, stare at him with darkened eyes before speaking. He would not mind. It would be easier.
But she does not look at him as she says flatly, "Not like this."
He does not see her meaning in her eyes, because she still has not turned. He does not hear it in her voice, because she speaks without emotion. But he feels her true meaning, and he knows what she did not say.
Not like this. This is not what you promised me when we were still in Japan. I thought we would be in love. I thought it would be something amazing, exciting, incredible, wonderful. I thought it would be something magical.
Not like this.
There is nothing for him to say. He continues to hold her. She still feels cold. Does it come from inside or out? He still isn't sure. He gets mixed up sometimes about things like that.
After all, it's easy to confuse the magical and the mundane.
Title: Not Like This
Challenge: Spring Rain
Canon: Shortly post-manga
Pairing: Kind of Eriol/Kaho…but not really.
Genre: Angst, I guess
Rating: PG
Word Count: 256
Summary: She had thought they would be in love.
She sits alone at the window, staring out at the rain falling over the English countryside.
He finds her there and says, "Kaho."
When she doesn't reply, he puts his arms around her from behind. She feels cold to him, but he can't tell whether he's sensing her mood or just her temperature.
Finally she stirs and speaks. "It's always raining here," she says.
"It rains in Japan, too."
It would be better, he thinks, better and easier, if she would look at him. She could shift in her chair right now, turn around, stare at him with darkened eyes before speaking. He would not mind. It would be easier.
But she does not look at him as she says flatly, "Not like this."
He does not see her meaning in her eyes, because she still has not turned. He does not hear it in her voice, because she speaks without emotion. But he feels her true meaning, and he knows what she did not say.
Not like this. This is not what you promised me when we were still in Japan. I thought we would be in love. I thought it would be something amazing, exciting, incredible, wonderful. I thought it would be something magical.
Not like this.
There is nothing for him to say. He continues to hold her. She still feels cold. Does it come from inside or out? He still isn't sure. He gets mixed up sometimes about things like that.
After all, it's easy to confuse the magical and the mundane.