[ The things I've never said ]
Characters: wavesoakedlegs and behisstrength.
Location: 12 Olie Street, Phanga neighbourhood.,
Time: Late afternoon.
Style: Prose.
Status: Closed.
~
It was quiet day, a peaceful one, and Mitsuhide was alone in his room. He had spent the day by himself, for the most part, practising with his shamisen and thinking about the coming festival. There were many gifts he had to settle on, and he was a little unsure what to get for some of his friends.
He had also been thinking about the last curse.
For the most part, he had been looking back at it with fondness and humour. The awkward nature of his and Motochika's teenage selves in regards to the situation made him smile, and had revealed to himself just how long he had possessed feelings for his lover
There was just one thing about the events of the curse that bothered him.
During their exploration of Mitsuhide's room as younger men, the two of them had stumbled across Mitsuhide's stash of poetry. More, they had actually read through some of it. At the time it had been assumed they were the poems of someone else, because the level of skill had been well beyond that the younger man had possessed. Now, however, Motochika would surely know that they were Mitsuhide's work. He would not doubt the handwriting, the imagery, the skill that Mitsuhide had gained over the years... and that was a problem. Because amongst the poems were several romantic pieces. Very personal romantic pieces, ones which quite clearly referred to himself and Motochika.
He had never intended for his lover to see them. Mitsuhide was awkward enough as it was about vocalising his feelings, but he found it helpful to put them to paper where nobody else would see. Because they were never meant to be seen, he had not hesitated to pour everything he felt about Motochika and their bond into the lines. The idea of the other man reading such a thing... it embarassed him beyond belief.
So far, however, Motochika had not said a word about them. Mitsuhide was hoping that he had forgotten about their existence, or at least decided not to mention them again.
Mitsuhide moved over to his desk and took a seat. He then opened the bottom drawer, where the poems were hidden away. They did not seem to have been disturbed since he had last looked within, which was something.
Location: 12 Olie Street, Phanga neighbourhood.,
Time: Late afternoon.
Style: Prose.
Status: Closed.
~
It was quiet day, a peaceful one, and Mitsuhide was alone in his room. He had spent the day by himself, for the most part, practising with his shamisen and thinking about the coming festival. There were many gifts he had to settle on, and he was a little unsure what to get for some of his friends.
He had also been thinking about the last curse.
For the most part, he had been looking back at it with fondness and humour. The awkward nature of his and Motochika's teenage selves in regards to the situation made him smile, and had revealed to himself just how long he had possessed feelings for his lover
There was just one thing about the events of the curse that bothered him.
During their exploration of Mitsuhide's room as younger men, the two of them had stumbled across Mitsuhide's stash of poetry. More, they had actually read through some of it. At the time it had been assumed they were the poems of someone else, because the level of skill had been well beyond that the younger man had possessed. Now, however, Motochika would surely know that they were Mitsuhide's work. He would not doubt the handwriting, the imagery, the skill that Mitsuhide had gained over the years... and that was a problem. Because amongst the poems were several romantic pieces. Very personal romantic pieces, ones which quite clearly referred to himself and Motochika.
He had never intended for his lover to see them. Mitsuhide was awkward enough as it was about vocalising his feelings, but he found it helpful to put them to paper where nobody else would see. Because they were never meant to be seen, he had not hesitated to pour everything he felt about Motochika and their bond into the lines. The idea of the other man reading such a thing... it embarassed him beyond belief.
So far, however, Motochika had not said a word about them. Mitsuhide was hoping that he had forgotten about their existence, or at least decided not to mention them again.
Mitsuhide moved over to his desk and took a seat. He then opened the bottom drawer, where the poems were hidden away. They did not seem to have been disturbed since he had last looked within, which was something.