Theme: #46 Time
The inspiration for this drabble came from the fact that I haven't had much time lately, and I thought to myself "If I think I have it bad, wonder how Mamoru/Tuxedo Mask must be feeling..."
Enjoy!
Words: 293
Chiba Mamoru had many things: charm, good looks, intelligence. He had even managed to find a friend who was not too intimidated by his glorious perfection. He was not bragging, just stating a fact. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him. It was not his fault he was practically perfect in every way.
Yes, Mamoru had many things, but time was not one of them. Between work, school, volunteering at the local orphanage, and saving the world on a daily basis there wasn’t much time for him to, ironically enough, ‘stop and smell the roses’. Sleep had even taken a back burner in the recent months and caffeine had become a main staple in the young man’s diet.
It was in search of said drug that Mamoru found himself at the Arcade, downing a black cup of Joe, between school and a shift at work. The beeping of his digital watch alerted him to the time.
Mamoru swore, finishing his coffee in record time. After hastily paying and a quick wave of farewell to Motoki, Mamoru made a beeline for the exit. A growl of frustration followed by a pencil hitting him square in the back of the head caused Mamoru to stop dead in his tracks. Turning on his toe, his gaze fell upon the young girl who had produced the animal-like noise, and the well-aimed missile.
Tsukino Usagi was furiously shredding a page of homework, her face red with frustration. Mamoru smiled for the first time all day, bent over to pick up the pink, sparkly writing instrument, and headed over to the young girl’s booth.
So what if he was a little late for work. Usagi would always take first priority in his schedule, and in his heart.
Enjoy!
Words: 293
Chiba Mamoru had many things: charm, good looks, intelligence. He had even managed to find a friend who was not too intimidated by his glorious perfection. He was not bragging, just stating a fact. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him. It was not his fault he was practically perfect in every way.
Yes, Mamoru had many things, but time was not one of them. Between work, school, volunteering at the local orphanage, and saving the world on a daily basis there wasn’t much time for him to, ironically enough, ‘stop and smell the roses’. Sleep had even taken a back burner in the recent months and caffeine had become a main staple in the young man’s diet.
It was in search of said drug that Mamoru found himself at the Arcade, downing a black cup of Joe, between school and a shift at work. The beeping of his digital watch alerted him to the time.
Mamoru swore, finishing his coffee in record time. After hastily paying and a quick wave of farewell to Motoki, Mamoru made a beeline for the exit. A growl of frustration followed by a pencil hitting him square in the back of the head caused Mamoru to stop dead in his tracks. Turning on his toe, his gaze fell upon the young girl who had produced the animal-like noise, and the well-aimed missile.
Tsukino Usagi was furiously shredding a page of homework, her face red with frustration. Mamoru smiled for the first time all day, bent over to pick up the pink, sparkly writing instrument, and headed over to the young girl’s booth.
So what if he was a little late for work. Usagi would always take first priority in his schedule, and in his heart.