Permafrost inside
Permafrost inside
Kawaei Rina/Fujigaya (AKB48/Kis-My-Ft2)
AU, 1100 words, PG
At first, all Fujigaya sees is a figure out on the frozen lake, in monotone colors just like the world around him, turned into black and white by snow and grey skies. For a moment he watches it, waits for movement, and when it doesn't come, he takes a deep breath, and leaves safe ground to make it out onto the ice.
It has been cold like this for so long that the ice is definitely thick enough to hold his weight up; and he's not particularly heavy anyway. He remembers when it would be warm, when birds would play in the water and the sun would make it glitter. Now it's only frozen, and he has gotten used to it, so used to it that he barely recognizes as cold anymore. Sometimes, Fujigaya even wonders if his body might have accustomed itself to it, the constant itchy, dry air and the low temperatures.
But although it does hold his weight up, the ice making low, breaking sounds as he walks, slowly, slowly, threatening his instincts, tells him to go back. Yet he doesn't turn around; he has trouble getting out there, what if the figure he sees in the very middle of the lake is unable to get back?
It doesn't cross his mind that if they can't, he might not be able to, either.
As he makes it further out the ice becomes slippery, he finds himself nearly falling over a dozen times, but he keeps his focus off the dangerous sounds from beneath him, keeps his eyes trained on the person he's getting gradually closer to. It's a girl, he realizes, in what looks like a white dress; no shoes, no jacket, nothing but long, wavy black hair to cover her thin shoulders.
Worry rises in his chest, makes his heart beat, a feeling that he no longer finds familiar; perhaps his body really has put itself on low maintenance in the cold. He lays the last distance behind himself within less time than he expected; before he realizes it, he's standing there, right in front of where she sits, legs bare against the clear ice. Her dress moves with the weak wind; it's thin, and ripped in the end of the skirt. Almost hesitating, he reaches out towards her, offers her a hand to help her get up. It's a completely silent minute that he waits for any kind of reaction, just the wind in his ears reminding Fujigaya that he's not deaf.
Then she moves, but she doesn't take his hand. She only moves her head, tilts it backwards until he can see her face, until her eyes lock to his, and he forgets to breathe for a second. Her skin is pale, white as snow, eyes dark with a tint of grey; maybe the reflection of the sky in them. Lips a dark blue, no, purple, but they aren't chapped, just like neither her nose nor cheeks are red, irritated by the cold, like he suspects his own are.
He stands speechless, hand still extended towards her, but only because he can't come to think of anything to do. And he just looks into her eyes, watches as they change into something that look happy, hopeful, even though her lips won't smile. It takes all of Fujigaya's attention, so much that when there's a touch to his hand, he nearly jumps; it's cold, and almost electric, but it holds onto him with more strength than he would have thought the girl possessed.
Instead of using it to get up, however, she tugs on it, tugs him down in front of her on the ice. He winces when his knees hit the hard surface, hears the ice crack again, not so far away, but his eyes are still locked to her face.
“It hurts, doesn't it?” she whispers, and he jerks at the cold touch to his cheek. It's gentle, though, a light stroke, and there is affection in her eyes now. He nods.
The next thing he knows is frozen lips against his own, and for a moment his mind tells him that he's been thrown into the lake, that the ice must have cracked and they went through it. But when the freezing waves inside of him subside, only leave an ache in his bones, as if he's turning into ice himself, from the inside, he realizes that he's still there, on the frozen lake, with the pale girl in front of him. She strokes his cheek again, and something tears from his skin; she actually smiles when she sees him recognizing the feeling. There's icy stains on his cheek, he realizes, before he notices that there's silent tears running from his eyes.
“Not all pain is harmful,” is the next thing she says, and she kisses him again. The same feeling overcomes him, like he's drowning, pulled down into icy water, but he's steadier now, feels her cold little hands in the back of his neck, feels his own tears run down his cheeks, feels them turn into little drops of ice, and he kisses back.
They break apart, his breath white in the air; hers is invisible, but her chest is moving slowly, confirming that she is breathing, too.
“Who are you?” he asks, voice unsteady, but his worry is gone as if a spell has lifted.
She looks away as she responds. “I was Rina.” He hesitates, before he lets his hand come up to her chin, gently turns her to look at him. “Now I'm just the only one you need.”
Fujigaya doesn't have time to reflect over the words; she pulls him into an embrace, cold and at the same time warm, like snow wrapping around his body, only she's just a girl, in a thin, white, torn dress. Then he's falling, for what feels like a very long time, but it's barely a second until his back hits the ice, her long, black curls tickling his face as they move in the wind.
There's a loud crack, much too close, and when she shifts above him, the ice shifts with her weight. Something wet meets the back of his head; at first he's afraid that it's blood, but it's cold, so cold, and he figures that water has made it up on top of the frozen surface. And although it makes his mind panic, he feels strangely calm, even with her hands holding his wrists in place next to his head. As she leans forward the ice shifts more; he feels that strange feeling of being tilted backwards, head down and feet up, but just a little. Only enough that more water flows towards him, wets his neck and soaks the collar of his shirt.
Rina whispers only centimetres from his face. “Give in to it.”
She presses their lips together again; as she lets go of them he finds his own hands coming up to her shoulders, pulls her tighter against him, and despite the drowning feeling it is comforting, and even more so when they go under the ice, when the real cold closes around them.
Kawaei Rina/Fujigaya (AKB48/Kis-My-Ft2)
AU, 1100 words, PG
At first, all Fujigaya sees is a figure out on the frozen lake, in monotone colors just like the world around him, turned into black and white by snow and grey skies. For a moment he watches it, waits for movement, and when it doesn't come, he takes a deep breath, and leaves safe ground to make it out onto the ice.
It has been cold like this for so long that the ice is definitely thick enough to hold his weight up; and he's not particularly heavy anyway. He remembers when it would be warm, when birds would play in the water and the sun would make it glitter. Now it's only frozen, and he has gotten used to it, so used to it that he barely recognizes as cold anymore. Sometimes, Fujigaya even wonders if his body might have accustomed itself to it, the constant itchy, dry air and the low temperatures.
But although it does hold his weight up, the ice making low, breaking sounds as he walks, slowly, slowly, threatening his instincts, tells him to go back. Yet he doesn't turn around; he has trouble getting out there, what if the figure he sees in the very middle of the lake is unable to get back?
It doesn't cross his mind that if they can't, he might not be able to, either.
As he makes it further out the ice becomes slippery, he finds himself nearly falling over a dozen times, but he keeps his focus off the dangerous sounds from beneath him, keeps his eyes trained on the person he's getting gradually closer to. It's a girl, he realizes, in what looks like a white dress; no shoes, no jacket, nothing but long, wavy black hair to cover her thin shoulders.
Worry rises in his chest, makes his heart beat, a feeling that he no longer finds familiar; perhaps his body really has put itself on low maintenance in the cold. He lays the last distance behind himself within less time than he expected; before he realizes it, he's standing there, right in front of where she sits, legs bare against the clear ice. Her dress moves with the weak wind; it's thin, and ripped in the end of the skirt. Almost hesitating, he reaches out towards her, offers her a hand to help her get up. It's a completely silent minute that he waits for any kind of reaction, just the wind in his ears reminding Fujigaya that he's not deaf.
Then she moves, but she doesn't take his hand. She only moves her head, tilts it backwards until he can see her face, until her eyes lock to his, and he forgets to breathe for a second. Her skin is pale, white as snow, eyes dark with a tint of grey; maybe the reflection of the sky in them. Lips a dark blue, no, purple, but they aren't chapped, just like neither her nose nor cheeks are red, irritated by the cold, like he suspects his own are.
He stands speechless, hand still extended towards her, but only because he can't come to think of anything to do. And he just looks into her eyes, watches as they change into something that look happy, hopeful, even though her lips won't smile. It takes all of Fujigaya's attention, so much that when there's a touch to his hand, he nearly jumps; it's cold, and almost electric, but it holds onto him with more strength than he would have thought the girl possessed.
Instead of using it to get up, however, she tugs on it, tugs him down in front of her on the ice. He winces when his knees hit the hard surface, hears the ice crack again, not so far away, but his eyes are still locked to her face.
“It hurts, doesn't it?” she whispers, and he jerks at the cold touch to his cheek. It's gentle, though, a light stroke, and there is affection in her eyes now. He nods.
The next thing he knows is frozen lips against his own, and for a moment his mind tells him that he's been thrown into the lake, that the ice must have cracked and they went through it. But when the freezing waves inside of him subside, only leave an ache in his bones, as if he's turning into ice himself, from the inside, he realizes that he's still there, on the frozen lake, with the pale girl in front of him. She strokes his cheek again, and something tears from his skin; she actually smiles when she sees him recognizing the feeling. There's icy stains on his cheek, he realizes, before he notices that there's silent tears running from his eyes.
“Not all pain is harmful,” is the next thing she says, and she kisses him again. The same feeling overcomes him, like he's drowning, pulled down into icy water, but he's steadier now, feels her cold little hands in the back of his neck, feels his own tears run down his cheeks, feels them turn into little drops of ice, and he kisses back.
They break apart, his breath white in the air; hers is invisible, but her chest is moving slowly, confirming that she is breathing, too.
“Who are you?” he asks, voice unsteady, but his worry is gone as if a spell has lifted.
She looks away as she responds. “I was Rina.” He hesitates, before he lets his hand come up to her chin, gently turns her to look at him. “Now I'm just the only one you need.”
Fujigaya doesn't have time to reflect over the words; she pulls him into an embrace, cold and at the same time warm, like snow wrapping around his body, only she's just a girl, in a thin, white, torn dress. Then he's falling, for what feels like a very long time, but it's barely a second until his back hits the ice, her long, black curls tickling his face as they move in the wind.
There's a loud crack, much too close, and when she shifts above him, the ice shifts with her weight. Something wet meets the back of his head; at first he's afraid that it's blood, but it's cold, so cold, and he figures that water has made it up on top of the frozen surface. And although it makes his mind panic, he feels strangely calm, even with her hands holding his wrists in place next to his head. As she leans forward the ice shifts more; he feels that strange feeling of being tilted backwards, head down and feet up, but just a little. Only enough that more water flows towards him, wets his neck and soaks the collar of his shirt.
Rina whispers only centimetres from his face. “Give in to it.”
She presses their lips together again; as she lets go of them he finds his own hands coming up to her shoulders, pulls her tighter against him, and despite the drowning feeling it is comforting, and even more so when they go under the ice, when the real cold closes around them.