drabble, not checking spelling or grammar
At least they weren't like some couples - weren't as bad as some people were. You know the type: creating cutsie names for each other (love ya, funny-bunny-honey!), constantly engaging in public displays of affection, dressing the same, making kissy-kissy faces at each other... Basically, pulling crap that makes us regular people contemplate suicide. Or homicide.
But then again, maybe it would have been easy if they had been like that. At least then I'd have a reasonable excuse for avoiding their presence, constantly complaining to a quickly growing apathetic Aeris, or doing poor imitations of them behind their backs.
This may come as a shock, but I'm not perfect. I try to be the best damn ninja princess I can, but it was becoming harder and harder to plaster a smile on my face, to participate in normal conversation, to restrain myself from flipping the kitchen table and splattering their breakfasts all over them.
It wasn't fair, play and simple. She was practically my sister, which meant that we were practically the same person, which meant that we had to share practically everything. If my day sucked, her day had to suck, too. When I was sad, she should be sad.
And that's how it had been. She was stuck in her itty-bitty fairy body, and she wasn't sure if he'd accept her, and she worried that he still thought she was a kid, and all her problems were my problems, too.
But now he'd stroke her cheek and she'd ride around on his shoulder and h changed the tone of his voice when he talked to her and she spent her nights with him instead of sitting up and commiserating with me until dawn.
And maybe I would have been fine with it, would have even been happy for her, if a damn, squiriming, worm of a feeling weren't flopping around in my brain: Vincent wouldn't love me the way that Auron loved Rikku. It was fine and dandy for me to dream about the day that we went back to our world, and I made a glorious rescue which resulted in him pledging his undying love to me before sweeping me off my feet to make mad, passionate love in a castle overlooking the sea at sunset. I could fantasize all I wanted, Vincent had made his decision years before, his heart, or what was left of it, couldn't be stolen, not even by me. He probably regreted all the kisses we had shared, all whopping three of them. He was probably happier being lost in in the swirling darkness that had conquered our planet; he could lie in peace and mourn that goddamned Lucrecia for all eternity.
Auron, with his black hair and red coat and past scarred with regrets. Rikku, a thief from the outskirts of society with a crazy father, who joins a bunch of crazy bastards as they march toward certain doom, who shouldn't be trusted and betrays her friends, but redeems herself later, and is too young and too immature and too flat-chested, but still falls in love with a dead guy who's too old and too grouchy and too busy being dead and grouchy to let her love him and and and...
But Rikku won. And I guess that's what separates us.
But then again, maybe it would have been easy if they had been like that. At least then I'd have a reasonable excuse for avoiding their presence, constantly complaining to a quickly growing apathetic Aeris, or doing poor imitations of them behind their backs.
This may come as a shock, but I'm not perfect. I try to be the best damn ninja princess I can, but it was becoming harder and harder to plaster a smile on my face, to participate in normal conversation, to restrain myself from flipping the kitchen table and splattering their breakfasts all over them.
It wasn't fair, play and simple. She was practically my sister, which meant that we were practically the same person, which meant that we had to share practically everything. If my day sucked, her day had to suck, too. When I was sad, she should be sad.
And that's how it had been. She was stuck in her itty-bitty fairy body, and she wasn't sure if he'd accept her, and she worried that he still thought she was a kid, and all her problems were my problems, too.
But now he'd stroke her cheek and she'd ride around on his shoulder and h changed the tone of his voice when he talked to her and she spent her nights with him instead of sitting up and commiserating with me until dawn.
And maybe I would have been fine with it, would have even been happy for her, if a damn, squiriming, worm of a feeling weren't flopping around in my brain: Vincent wouldn't love me the way that Auron loved Rikku. It was fine and dandy for me to dream about the day that we went back to our world, and I made a glorious rescue which resulted in him pledging his undying love to me before sweeping me off my feet to make mad, passionate love in a castle overlooking the sea at sunset. I could fantasize all I wanted, Vincent had made his decision years before, his heart, or what was left of it, couldn't be stolen, not even by me. He probably regreted all the kisses we had shared, all whopping three of them. He was probably happier being lost in in the swirling darkness that had conquered our planet; he could lie in peace and mourn that goddamned Lucrecia for all eternity.
Auron, with his black hair and red coat and past scarred with regrets. Rikku, a thief from the outskirts of society with a crazy father, who joins a bunch of crazy bastards as they march toward certain doom, who shouldn't be trusted and betrays her friends, but redeems herself later, and is too young and too immature and too flat-chested, but still falls in love with a dead guy who's too old and too grouchy and too busy being dead and grouchy to let her love him and and and...
But Rikku won. And I guess that's what separates us.