what if all the world you think you know is an elaborate dream?
This has been in my WIP post since December. Why? The first three paragraphs. Which I'm still unhappy with. I literally haven't touched the rest of the fic (except for touching up grammar and spelling) at all. I like everything but the opening ^_^;; So don't stop reading within the first three paragraphs ^_^;;
And look! More than 300 words!
title: Waiting
fandom: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
pairing: Kurogane/Fai
words: 946
rating: PG
for 40baisers theme #13; time passes
Upon your arrival in this country, you find yourself at the mercy of several gaping strangers. After all, you're not only obviously a foreigner, but you just fell from the sky. Their surprise and confusion are more than understandable.
In this country, you're presented with something a little different, though, and their scrutiny fades into irrelevance the moment you lay your eyes on him. The look on his face is slightly different from the faces around you. Still shocked, but that's all. There's no underlying confusion with this man as he stalks towards you.
He hasn't changed at all - even his clothing is nearly the same. A little older, perhaps, but hardly noticeably. You stare at him and know without a doubt that this is the man you traveled with so long ago. You know that, unexpectedly, you've found your way back to his Japan.
"Kurogane," you breathe, when he's within arm's reach. You can count the number of times you've called him by his full name on one hand, but it doesn't seem appropriate to jump right into nicknames after it's been so long.
"Fai," he replies, and you think perhaps he's called you by name even less.
"Kuro-rin!" Mokona squeals, leaping from your head and effectively breaking the heavy mood. It bounds towards the ninja who promptly goes for his sword and starts threatening it. You laugh and things are suddenly a little less awkward. A little less scary.
He takes you to a fountain nearby with a bench carved into the stone. You practically fall into the seat, limbs flailing. You're tired, but not sleepy. Exhausted. Like you've been traveling across the universe and back for more years than you can count on both hands.
"How long has it been?" you murmur, barely aware you're speaking out loud.
"Eight years," he answers immediately, and you wonder how he knew with such certainty. You wonder if maybe, just maybe, he missed you a little.
"It's been twelve for us," you tell him slowly, giving your best estimate. It's difficult to keep track of time when time changes so inconsistently. You can feel him looking at you, but stare at your feet stretched out in front of you, ankles crossed, instead of meeting his gaze. The silence stretches.
"What happened to the kid and his princess?" he asks finally.
You smile nostalgically, uncrossing ankles and kicking your feet against the ground. "Syaoran found the rest of her feathers and we stuck together until Clow." You shrug minutely, "I assume they're now living happily ever after."
"Good."
"They deserve to be happy," you agree.
The silence between the two of you is almost strange. Awkward. There's so much you want to ask him, but you don't really want to pry. It's irrational. Difficult. You've almost forgotten what it's like to meet the same person twice. What it's like to see a familiar face and actually be recognized. To reminisce. To catch up.
"Are you still running?"
You laugh helplessly. "Of course, I'm here aren't I?" You desperately don't want to broach this subject. You don't want to have this conversation anymore. You've spent so many years making yourself comfortable with where you are in life, you don't want him to remind you that, underneath it all, you're a coward. And he's always been very good at pointing out your faults.
"Does Kuro-pon have kids?" The question comes from somewhere in Kurogane's clothing and you realize, shamefully, that you'd forgotten Mokona was even with you.
"No," he snaps, rummaging in his shirt and pulling the animal out by its ears.
You relax again, smiling at their antics. "Too bad, you would have been a good daddy Kuro-pin. But then, miniature Kuro-chii's running around would have been scary."
"Scary!" Mokona agrees, using your head as a stepping stone before burrowing into your coat on the seat beside you. It's getting late and cooling down. The square around you is empty and silent.
"So what's your life like now?" you ask. An open-ended question is the safest, you think.
He shrugs, leaning back against the stone and staring at the darkening sky, "The same as it's always been. I protect Tomoyo."
"Nothing else?"
"No."
"Must be lonely."
"You're one to talk."
There's nothing you can really say to that. He's right, of course. It is lonely jumping from world to world, day after day. When you found Clow, nearly seven years ago, the four months you spent there was your record for staying in one place.
"I've been waiting," he adds after awhile.
You laugh out loud at that, shaking your head. He scowls as you catch your breath. "Waiting is something kids do, Kuro-myu. You're a little old to be waiting." You glance at him sideways, teasingly. He's still scowling, of course. Always scowling.
But then his expression changes to something unreadable and he's got you by the shoulders and your faces are so close together that you can taste his breath. You freeze because you'd forgotten this. The near-frightening intensity that is so much a part of Kurogane. The way his crimson eyes can make you forget how to breathe.
And then he's kissing you and it's angry and rushed and demanding and just like him and you realize you'd missed this without ever knowing it. He just crossed the line the two of you walked the entire time you knew each other without a second thought. Took the leap neither of you had been willing to take during your travels.
He pulls back, leaving you with shivers unrelated to the cold. "I've been waiting," he repeats, lips brushing your own. And this time, you understand.
And look! More than 300 words!
title: Waiting
fandom: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
pairing: Kurogane/Fai
words: 946
rating: PG
for 40baisers theme #13; time passes
Upon your arrival in this country, you find yourself at the mercy of several gaping strangers. After all, you're not only obviously a foreigner, but you just fell from the sky. Their surprise and confusion are more than understandable.
In this country, you're presented with something a little different, though, and their scrutiny fades into irrelevance the moment you lay your eyes on him. The look on his face is slightly different from the faces around you. Still shocked, but that's all. There's no underlying confusion with this man as he stalks towards you.
He hasn't changed at all - even his clothing is nearly the same. A little older, perhaps, but hardly noticeably. You stare at him and know without a doubt that this is the man you traveled with so long ago. You know that, unexpectedly, you've found your way back to his Japan.
"Kurogane," you breathe, when he's within arm's reach. You can count the number of times you've called him by his full name on one hand, but it doesn't seem appropriate to jump right into nicknames after it's been so long.
"Fai," he replies, and you think perhaps he's called you by name even less.
"Kuro-rin!" Mokona squeals, leaping from your head and effectively breaking the heavy mood. It bounds towards the ninja who promptly goes for his sword and starts threatening it. You laugh and things are suddenly a little less awkward. A little less scary.
He takes you to a fountain nearby with a bench carved into the stone. You practically fall into the seat, limbs flailing. You're tired, but not sleepy. Exhausted. Like you've been traveling across the universe and back for more years than you can count on both hands.
"How long has it been?" you murmur, barely aware you're speaking out loud.
"Eight years," he answers immediately, and you wonder how he knew with such certainty. You wonder if maybe, just maybe, he missed you a little.
"It's been twelve for us," you tell him slowly, giving your best estimate. It's difficult to keep track of time when time changes so inconsistently. You can feel him looking at you, but stare at your feet stretched out in front of you, ankles crossed, instead of meeting his gaze. The silence stretches.
"What happened to the kid and his princess?" he asks finally.
You smile nostalgically, uncrossing ankles and kicking your feet against the ground. "Syaoran found the rest of her feathers and we stuck together until Clow." You shrug minutely, "I assume they're now living happily ever after."
"Good."
"They deserve to be happy," you agree.
The silence between the two of you is almost strange. Awkward. There's so much you want to ask him, but you don't really want to pry. It's irrational. Difficult. You've almost forgotten what it's like to meet the same person twice. What it's like to see a familiar face and actually be recognized. To reminisce. To catch up.
"Are you still running?"
You laugh helplessly. "Of course, I'm here aren't I?" You desperately don't want to broach this subject. You don't want to have this conversation anymore. You've spent so many years making yourself comfortable with where you are in life, you don't want him to remind you that, underneath it all, you're a coward. And he's always been very good at pointing out your faults.
"Does Kuro-pon have kids?" The question comes from somewhere in Kurogane's clothing and you realize, shamefully, that you'd forgotten Mokona was even with you.
"No," he snaps, rummaging in his shirt and pulling the animal out by its ears.
You relax again, smiling at their antics. "Too bad, you would have been a good daddy Kuro-pin. But then, miniature Kuro-chii's running around would have been scary."
"Scary!" Mokona agrees, using your head as a stepping stone before burrowing into your coat on the seat beside you. It's getting late and cooling down. The square around you is empty and silent.
"So what's your life like now?" you ask. An open-ended question is the safest, you think.
He shrugs, leaning back against the stone and staring at the darkening sky, "The same as it's always been. I protect Tomoyo."
"Nothing else?"
"No."
"Must be lonely."
"You're one to talk."
There's nothing you can really say to that. He's right, of course. It is lonely jumping from world to world, day after day. When you found Clow, nearly seven years ago, the four months you spent there was your record for staying in one place.
"I've been waiting," he adds after awhile.
You laugh out loud at that, shaking your head. He scowls as you catch your breath. "Waiting is something kids do, Kuro-myu. You're a little old to be waiting." You glance at him sideways, teasingly. He's still scowling, of course. Always scowling.
But then his expression changes to something unreadable and he's got you by the shoulders and your faces are so close together that you can taste his breath. You freeze because you'd forgotten this. The near-frightening intensity that is so much a part of Kurogane. The way his crimson eyes can make you forget how to breathe.
And then he's kissing you and it's angry and rushed and demanding and just like him and you realize you'd missed this without ever knowing it. He just crossed the line the two of you walked the entire time you knew each other without a second thought. Took the leap neither of you had been willing to take during your travels.
He pulls back, leaving you with shivers unrelated to the cold. "I've been waiting," he repeats, lips brushing your own. And this time, you understand.