The University
Title: The University
Fandom/Pairing: Yuugiou; Yami no Yuugi x. Strings
Rating: G
Warnings: Slash (as mild as you can get, really), second person POV, AU!DU.
Disclaimer: Yuugiou is copyright Kazuki Takahashi. Story is copyright V.S.
Notes: Fun facts instead! This was originally written as a descriptive essay assignment for school, so no, it isn't my usual style. When rewriting it to be a bit more fandom/Stringsy, I added about five hundred words, which was the original limit to the essay (I'd exceeded that be two hundred already, so). It's a little weird as far as fic goes, but it isn't bad, I don't think.
Your most vivid memory of the University of Domino is the first day you arrived. The off-white buildings sprawled around a great swath of vividly green grass, punctuated in places by dull grey concrete walkways and wood-and-steel benches; you silently observed the other students, some hefting bulging book bags over their shoulders and others holding thick texts to their noses as they weaved between the small crowds of two and three moving passed. Everyone seemed to be reading or chatting with their fellows; you shuffled towards the dorms in an attempt to avoid people, listening to the laughter of friends as they were reunited after a long summer of separation (“Oi, Raphael! You haven’t been answering my calls!”) and discovered the changes that had conspired over that time (“Rebecca, your hair!”).
The hallways stank strongly of bleach, as if the cleaning staff had never left and in fact had spent the whole of the summer cleaning, and as you proceed down them, you could already spot places where the animals had been by. There, a sweets wrapper that crinkled as you pocketed it to throw out later; here, a slick of water that seemed to indicate someone particularly clumsy had already spilled a bottleful upon the floor and made your shoes squeak on the white tiles even after stepping carefully around it. Finally, you reached the oaken door to your own room, resting your hand lightly on the cool, smooth, metal doorknob and breathing in deeply before you twisted it open.
The walls of the room were painted the same kind of off-white as the outside of the buildings were, and the harsh smell of bleach was even stronger, making you want to sneeze. There were two single beds in the room, one flush against the wall nearest to the door and the other parallel to it, resting beneath several wide windows. Each bed had crisp white sheets tucked tightly into its wooden baseboards and a fluffy-looking pillow at its head. You placed your duffle bag on the end of the one nearest the window and touched the pillow with the palm of your hand; it was soft but rather prickly at the same time, so you assumed it was made of goose down. As for the geography of the room itself, you discovered by turning slowly in a circle that there was no need to journey around the world to figure it out. Bed, then windows until you reached the corner of the room, then a desk, a bookshelf, and another desk, the open door through which you’d just entered, the white-painted closed door to what you assumed was the bathroom, the other bed, then two chests of drawers until you returned back to your bed. Simple.
You remember that you wished there was a big, comfy chair to sit in and gaze out the window to observe the seasons changing. It turned out that you would spend quite a lot of time in this third-story room; you’d arrived in late summer, when nothing but the grass and late-season flowers were flourishing. You’d never liked summer, because it was boring and nothing of the images ever changed day by day. You watched more of the people at this time of year - the tall boy who always wore trench coats, the bronze-skinned twins with sandy blonde hair, the one who always had his hair done up like a star (red and blonde and black), the three white-haired boys who ranged in appearance from looking like a wild animal to seeming as docile as a newborn lamb, the kid with teal hair who looked too short to be in university… You’d watched them all, and not a one of them ever looked up to see you peering out of your window or out from the dark corner no one ever really noticed.
After classes in the autumn, you’d have often sat at your desk in the swiveling black chair and watched as the dull brown and fiery orange dead leaves drifted past on the breath of the wind. Sometimes you’d have captured the image of one in your mind and sketched it, but because you usually used only one colour of pen (red at this time of year), they never turned out very nice and you would have liked to throw them out. Instead, you’d pinned them on the wall, so there were leaves falling forever inside your room - your roommate had moved out soon after this decorating spree covered the entire wall behind the desks. You’d not minded, since you’d never really communicated with him anyway.
Winter brought fat, marshmallow snowflakes, falling thick and fast until you could hardly make out the campus below and saw only a great white blanket. Classes had stopped at this point, and you’d watched the crazy boy (he was crazy, everyone said so and he’d been on strange posters in the hallways - he had the star hair) run around in the snow with a short brown-haired guy and an excitable-looking monkey, covering trees in fairy lights and pelting one another with snow balls. They made Christmas happy for you all of December, because you got to watch them outside making tracks all over the courtyard and making the normal people walking by scream and run away by attacking with snow.
In spring time, you were treated to the endless hours of pouring rain and the peat smell of damp earth as new, live things sought to push their way up into the world. You’d never really liked the rain, but you’d watched flowers bloom into radiant pinks and the palest of blues after the angriest storm clouds had blown out and the sun had smiled benevolently down on all the dripping places in the world. You’d made quite sure to stay inside as much as possible during this awful kind of weather and even got a journal online - something to pass the time. You’d never imagined it’d end up changing your life like it did.
You’d never imagined it’d lead you to a boy in a leather skirt and to the people who’d made your Christmas shine and you’d never imagined it would get you a friend. A real, honest-to-goodness friend, something you’d never had before. Just one, though, and you’d never looked back after it was sure he wasn’t going to hurt you on purpose. You’d gone blindly and bravely forward and tumbled headfirst into a tangled pit of mess that you didn’t understand but for the hurting.
… You’d awoken half-blinded by the warm sunlight shining through your windows in the early summertime, and one day after all this happened, you left. You’d never come back.
Your first year was over, but you’d never forget it.
Fandom/Pairing: Yuugiou; Yami no Yuugi x. Strings
Rating: G
Warnings: Slash (as mild as you can get, really), second person POV, AU!DU.
Disclaimer: Yuugiou is copyright Kazuki Takahashi. Story is copyright V.S.
Notes: Fun facts instead! This was originally written as a descriptive essay assignment for school, so no, it isn't my usual style. When rewriting it to be a bit more fandom/Stringsy, I added about five hundred words, which was the original limit to the essay (I'd exceeded that be two hundred already, so). It's a little weird as far as fic goes, but it isn't bad, I don't think.
Your most vivid memory of the University of Domino is the first day you arrived. The off-white buildings sprawled around a great swath of vividly green grass, punctuated in places by dull grey concrete walkways and wood-and-steel benches; you silently observed the other students, some hefting bulging book bags over their shoulders and others holding thick texts to their noses as they weaved between the small crowds of two and three moving passed. Everyone seemed to be reading or chatting with their fellows; you shuffled towards the dorms in an attempt to avoid people, listening to the laughter of friends as they were reunited after a long summer of separation (“Oi, Raphael! You haven’t been answering my calls!”) and discovered the changes that had conspired over that time (“Rebecca, your hair!”).
The hallways stank strongly of bleach, as if the cleaning staff had never left and in fact had spent the whole of the summer cleaning, and as you proceed down them, you could already spot places where the animals had been by. There, a sweets wrapper that crinkled as you pocketed it to throw out later; here, a slick of water that seemed to indicate someone particularly clumsy had already spilled a bottleful upon the floor and made your shoes squeak on the white tiles even after stepping carefully around it. Finally, you reached the oaken door to your own room, resting your hand lightly on the cool, smooth, metal doorknob and breathing in deeply before you twisted it open.
The walls of the room were painted the same kind of off-white as the outside of the buildings were, and the harsh smell of bleach was even stronger, making you want to sneeze. There were two single beds in the room, one flush against the wall nearest to the door and the other parallel to it, resting beneath several wide windows. Each bed had crisp white sheets tucked tightly into its wooden baseboards and a fluffy-looking pillow at its head. You placed your duffle bag on the end of the one nearest the window and touched the pillow with the palm of your hand; it was soft but rather prickly at the same time, so you assumed it was made of goose down. As for the geography of the room itself, you discovered by turning slowly in a circle that there was no need to journey around the world to figure it out. Bed, then windows until you reached the corner of the room, then a desk, a bookshelf, and another desk, the open door through which you’d just entered, the white-painted closed door to what you assumed was the bathroom, the other bed, then two chests of drawers until you returned back to your bed. Simple.
You remember that you wished there was a big, comfy chair to sit in and gaze out the window to observe the seasons changing. It turned out that you would spend quite a lot of time in this third-story room; you’d arrived in late summer, when nothing but the grass and late-season flowers were flourishing. You’d never liked summer, because it was boring and nothing of the images ever changed day by day. You watched more of the people at this time of year - the tall boy who always wore trench coats, the bronze-skinned twins with sandy blonde hair, the one who always had his hair done up like a star (red and blonde and black), the three white-haired boys who ranged in appearance from looking like a wild animal to seeming as docile as a newborn lamb, the kid with teal hair who looked too short to be in university… You’d watched them all, and not a one of them ever looked up to see you peering out of your window or out from the dark corner no one ever really noticed.
After classes in the autumn, you’d have often sat at your desk in the swiveling black chair and watched as the dull brown and fiery orange dead leaves drifted past on the breath of the wind. Sometimes you’d have captured the image of one in your mind and sketched it, but because you usually used only one colour of pen (red at this time of year), they never turned out very nice and you would have liked to throw them out. Instead, you’d pinned them on the wall, so there were leaves falling forever inside your room - your roommate had moved out soon after this decorating spree covered the entire wall behind the desks. You’d not minded, since you’d never really communicated with him anyway.
Winter brought fat, marshmallow snowflakes, falling thick and fast until you could hardly make out the campus below and saw only a great white blanket. Classes had stopped at this point, and you’d watched the crazy boy (he was crazy, everyone said so and he’d been on strange posters in the hallways - he had the star hair) run around in the snow with a short brown-haired guy and an excitable-looking monkey, covering trees in fairy lights and pelting one another with snow balls. They made Christmas happy for you all of December, because you got to watch them outside making tracks all over the courtyard and making the normal people walking by scream and run away by attacking with snow.
In spring time, you were treated to the endless hours of pouring rain and the peat smell of damp earth as new, live things sought to push their way up into the world. You’d never really liked the rain, but you’d watched flowers bloom into radiant pinks and the palest of blues after the angriest storm clouds had blown out and the sun had smiled benevolently down on all the dripping places in the world. You’d made quite sure to stay inside as much as possible during this awful kind of weather and even got a journal online - something to pass the time. You’d never imagined it’d end up changing your life like it did.
You’d never imagined it’d lead you to a boy in a leather skirt and to the people who’d made your Christmas shine and you’d never imagined it would get you a friend. A real, honest-to-goodness friend, something you’d never had before. Just one, though, and you’d never looked back after it was sure he wasn’t going to hurt you on purpose. You’d gone blindly and bravely forward and tumbled headfirst into a tangled pit of mess that you didn’t understand but for the hurting.
… You’d awoken half-blinded by the warm sunlight shining through your windows in the early summertime, and one day after all this happened, you left. You’d never come back.
Your first year was over, but you’d never forget it.