Songficcu!
Schism
Written by shinyshuichi, ebonydragyn and psychobunny
Rating: pg? more of an angsty kinda thing..
Pairing: IbuKam.. or Kamibu?
Summary: Still together yet falling apart.
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. Don't own Tool or the song Schism.
I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication
Purple, violet, mulberry, plum.
Shinji remembered a time when Kamio used to place a song lyric to each word, to each description of the colors the other saw in his hair. One lyric for each word, each lyric fitting together to form a song that they both knew by heart and said that they'd always remember. He also used to mumble the words under his breath, so low that no one could hear, no one but Kamio; who always knew what he was saying, simply because the other's ears always picked up the rhythmic lilt to his breathed out words.
At that point, they would both smile at each other, a soft curve to both their lips that accentuated the softness inherent in both their eyes and made Shinji think, "This is forever."
Those times, past-times, Shinji would then tug the redhead closer to him, nearer, so the song wouldn't be as faded as he made them out to be, as it was starting to be. He would then brush aside errant strands of red, away from Kamio's face, and fit their mouths together as if it was the only way he could ever say it; in the way his mouth moved and pressed against the other's. Trading words and thoughts in that one action and, maybe, forever binding them closer in the way he wanted them to be, in the way he though Kamio wanted it to be.
Then, the span of time that their lips touched, pressed and lingered, shortened and fell away too soon for Shinji's liking, like a cut off sentence or the way his mind sometimes trailed off when he got distracted. He used to say things afterwards, mindless things, rambling on and off to fill in the emptiness that was left over, anything, everything, until Kamio finally told him to shut up.
Stagnant pause before Shinji turned away and remained silent, staring at the shadows on the ground and repeating the lyrics in his head, over and over again for only him to hear.
I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them tumble down
No fault, none to blame it doesn't mean I don't desire to
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over
To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication
It hurt sometimes. The awkward silence that fell over them was almost deafening to Akira as his mind spun in a thousand different directions. Just when exactly had things changed? Was it his fault for telling Shinji to shut up on a regular basis? Or was it Shinji's fault for actually listening to him. Sometimes the incessant ramblings were comforting in a way, almost proof that they were real and not just some distant fantasy.
Shifting in the dark of night, blankets kicked to the side, Akira's mind raced. A friendship that had blossomed into something more was slowly slipping away into nothingness before he could stop it. Shattered fragments of conversations, whispered promises and clumsy touches in the dark were nothing but mere memories nowadays.
Had he done something wrong? Or perhaps the better question was, could he fix it? A red head buried into a cold pillow, tears falling silently on pale cheeks. It had all worked before, so why wasn't it now? Too many memories, both bad and good. An insane need to feel wanted, to feel special, to feel loved; was it all just a facade? Hiding behind a mask, using another to confirm his own existence as reality?
Even if it was, the feelings drifting away, fleeting memories still burning in his mind screamed at him "Never let go."
Memories and more memories, touched with Shinji's own scattered words and the way he always thought that it would work and would never break apart into the shattered fragments that he saw in Kamio's eyes. Eyes that were always wet, like in a black and white picture, glossy with tears and the edge of something that Shinji couldn't read, couldn't figure out, even though he wanted to. It felt like those fragments were digging into him, scratching against his throat and inhibiting all the words he wanted to say but couldn't. Stalled, broken, his voice wasn't his anymore and, for some reason, he wasn't sure if he wanted it to be his, especially if it didn't matter and especially if Kamio didn't want to hear it anymore.
Maybe that was his own fault, maybe it was Kamio's fault, maybe it was both. He didn't know, didn't want to know but, at the same time, couldn't help but want to ask, "What's wrong with us, what's wrong with me, what's wrong with you, why are we like this, why don't we sing the same songs, do you hate me, do you love me, are we nothing, are we everything?"
But mostly, Shinji wanted to ask, "Is this the end?"
When had things become so faded, when had everything become so confusing? Shinji remembered when it hadn't, he remembered the times that he could wrap his arms around Kamio and murmur endlessly about anything that popped into his mind. His fingers itched, always, with the need to touch and press against the pale curve of the other's jaw, streak a fingerprint against skin and invisibly mark what he knew was his.
Promises made in the dark, pinky swears that made them feel like kids again, laughing over how their fingers curled perfectly against it each other and the way it had felt so right.
Now, those days were almost gone, the days when Shinji could walk with Kamio down a street and feel at peace with the way their arms brushed hesitantly against each other, as if they were on their first date. The way he could lean over, violet hair shading both their faces in a secret haven for them to kiss, as if they were in their own world and nothing could touch them, except each other.
Now, today, tomorrow, there were only the silent words in Shinji's head, "This isn't my fault, this isn't my fault, this isn't my fault, this isn't my fault." Each time he repeated the litany, another voice answered him back, saying, "It is, it is, it is, it is."
The poetry that comes from the squaring off between
And the circling is worth it
Finding beauty in the dissonance
More shadows, hidden in Shinji's words, in the way Kamio looked at him and the way they both kept veering away from the question they both wanted to ask the most.
"Is this it?"
Synchronization, the way they both used to move so perfectly with each other, the way they used to finish each other's sentences, the way Kamio always understood what Shinji said, no matter what.
Now, maybe forever, Shinji felt shuttered and closed off, like the way his throat couldn't stop swallowing the words he wanted to say, the words he knew would make everything better, if only he would say them. What stopped him was that he wasn't sure if the words mattered anymore, wasn't sure if he believed in them as solidly as he had before 'us' had become, 'you and me.'
'You and me' used to fit into 'us' but now it was as if there wasn't even an 'and' to link them together, like a lengthy pause, all stretched thin and pulling slowly, ever so slowly, apart.
It was pain, it was hurt, it was all of these things and more, Shinji just couldn't say why and maybe didn't want to because Kamio had never said it, in the first place.
Or maybe he had and Shinji had just never bothered to listen.
There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication
Still together, yet nothing was there. Sometimes their eyes would meet across the room and one or the other or both would turn away, unable to speak even through the looks they had grown all too familiar with.
And sometimes, when they did speak, it was nothing more then a shallow exchange of words - a mere clinging, so to speak.
And Shinji would go on and on again after that, as if he never knew when to trail off into silence, 'cause he hated it . Hated the silence, it was too hollow and lonely. That's why he let himself fall in the first place - with Kamio, it was never silent and it was never lonely. It was different now though.
Shut up, were words that came often to Kamio's lips but he never said anything after that - it seemed he shut himself up as well, in the silence...and the hollow...and the lonely.
And Shinji couldn't break through that wall. He couldn't... for once, find anything to say.
Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any
Sense of compassion
Between supposed lovers
"Shinji..." was the soft - wait, soft? - word that slipped past lips chilled with emotion and Shinji wanted to step in and warm them and please, Akira, speak up. I need you and help but no, for once he couldn't move.
And nothing came past the dark-haired boy's mouth and the awkward chill settled into Kamio's bones. He wanted to shake the words out of his now silent partner and cry and beg for a word, something... anything but no, for once he couldn't move.
Can't walk away and yet, cannot stay. Just... please, once upon a time I knew that it would last forever, the other thought for the other.
I know the pieces fit...
I know the pieces fit...
I know the pieces fit...
Written by shinyshuichi, ebonydragyn and psychobunny
Rating: pg? more of an angsty kinda thing..
Pairing: IbuKam.. or Kamibu?
Summary: Still together yet falling apart.
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys. Don't own Tool or the song Schism.
I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication
Purple, violet, mulberry, plum.
Shinji remembered a time when Kamio used to place a song lyric to each word, to each description of the colors the other saw in his hair. One lyric for each word, each lyric fitting together to form a song that they both knew by heart and said that they'd always remember. He also used to mumble the words under his breath, so low that no one could hear, no one but Kamio; who always knew what he was saying, simply because the other's ears always picked up the rhythmic lilt to his breathed out words.
At that point, they would both smile at each other, a soft curve to both their lips that accentuated the softness inherent in both their eyes and made Shinji think, "This is forever."
Those times, past-times, Shinji would then tug the redhead closer to him, nearer, so the song wouldn't be as faded as he made them out to be, as it was starting to be. He would then brush aside errant strands of red, away from Kamio's face, and fit their mouths together as if it was the only way he could ever say it; in the way his mouth moved and pressed against the other's. Trading words and thoughts in that one action and, maybe, forever binding them closer in the way he wanted them to be, in the way he though Kamio wanted it to be.
Then, the span of time that their lips touched, pressed and lingered, shortened and fell away too soon for Shinji's liking, like a cut off sentence or the way his mind sometimes trailed off when he got distracted. He used to say things afterwards, mindless things, rambling on and off to fill in the emptiness that was left over, anything, everything, until Kamio finally told him to shut up.
Stagnant pause before Shinji turned away and remained silent, staring at the shadows on the ground and repeating the lyrics in his head, over and over again for only him to hear.
I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them tumble down
No fault, none to blame it doesn't mean I don't desire to
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over
To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication
It hurt sometimes. The awkward silence that fell over them was almost deafening to Akira as his mind spun in a thousand different directions. Just when exactly had things changed? Was it his fault for telling Shinji to shut up on a regular basis? Or was it Shinji's fault for actually listening to him. Sometimes the incessant ramblings were comforting in a way, almost proof that they were real and not just some distant fantasy.
Shifting in the dark of night, blankets kicked to the side, Akira's mind raced. A friendship that had blossomed into something more was slowly slipping away into nothingness before he could stop it. Shattered fragments of conversations, whispered promises and clumsy touches in the dark were nothing but mere memories nowadays.
Had he done something wrong? Or perhaps the better question was, could he fix it? A red head buried into a cold pillow, tears falling silently on pale cheeks. It had all worked before, so why wasn't it now? Too many memories, both bad and good. An insane need to feel wanted, to feel special, to feel loved; was it all just a facade? Hiding behind a mask, using another to confirm his own existence as reality?
Even if it was, the feelings drifting away, fleeting memories still burning in his mind screamed at him "Never let go."
Memories and more memories, touched with Shinji's own scattered words and the way he always thought that it would work and would never break apart into the shattered fragments that he saw in Kamio's eyes. Eyes that were always wet, like in a black and white picture, glossy with tears and the edge of something that Shinji couldn't read, couldn't figure out, even though he wanted to. It felt like those fragments were digging into him, scratching against his throat and inhibiting all the words he wanted to say but couldn't. Stalled, broken, his voice wasn't his anymore and, for some reason, he wasn't sure if he wanted it to be his, especially if it didn't matter and especially if Kamio didn't want to hear it anymore.
Maybe that was his own fault, maybe it was Kamio's fault, maybe it was both. He didn't know, didn't want to know but, at the same time, couldn't help but want to ask, "What's wrong with us, what's wrong with me, what's wrong with you, why are we like this, why don't we sing the same songs, do you hate me, do you love me, are we nothing, are we everything?"
But mostly, Shinji wanted to ask, "Is this the end?"
When had things become so faded, when had everything become so confusing? Shinji remembered when it hadn't, he remembered the times that he could wrap his arms around Kamio and murmur endlessly about anything that popped into his mind. His fingers itched, always, with the need to touch and press against the pale curve of the other's jaw, streak a fingerprint against skin and invisibly mark what he knew was his.
Promises made in the dark, pinky swears that made them feel like kids again, laughing over how their fingers curled perfectly against it each other and the way it had felt so right.
Now, those days were almost gone, the days when Shinji could walk with Kamio down a street and feel at peace with the way their arms brushed hesitantly against each other, as if they were on their first date. The way he could lean over, violet hair shading both their faces in a secret haven for them to kiss, as if they were in their own world and nothing could touch them, except each other.
Now, today, tomorrow, there were only the silent words in Shinji's head, "This isn't my fault, this isn't my fault, this isn't my fault, this isn't my fault." Each time he repeated the litany, another voice answered him back, saying, "It is, it is, it is, it is."
The poetry that comes from the squaring off between
And the circling is worth it
Finding beauty in the dissonance
More shadows, hidden in Shinji's words, in the way Kamio looked at him and the way they both kept veering away from the question they both wanted to ask the most.
"Is this it?"
Synchronization, the way they both used to move so perfectly with each other, the way they used to finish each other's sentences, the way Kamio always understood what Shinji said, no matter what.
Now, maybe forever, Shinji felt shuttered and closed off, like the way his throat couldn't stop swallowing the words he wanted to say, the words he knew would make everything better, if only he would say them. What stopped him was that he wasn't sure if the words mattered anymore, wasn't sure if he believed in them as solidly as he had before 'us' had become, 'you and me.'
'You and me' used to fit into 'us' but now it was as if there wasn't even an 'and' to link them together, like a lengthy pause, all stretched thin and pulling slowly, ever so slowly, apart.
It was pain, it was hurt, it was all of these things and more, Shinji just couldn't say why and maybe didn't want to because Kamio had never said it, in the first place.
Or maybe he had and Shinji had just never bothered to listen.
There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication
Still together, yet nothing was there. Sometimes their eyes would meet across the room and one or the other or both would turn away, unable to speak even through the looks they had grown all too familiar with.
And sometimes, when they did speak, it was nothing more then a shallow exchange of words - a mere clinging, so to speak.
And Shinji would go on and on again after that, as if he never knew when to trail off into silence, 'cause he hated it . Hated the silence, it was too hollow and lonely. That's why he let himself fall in the first place - with Kamio, it was never silent and it was never lonely. It was different now though.
Shut up, were words that came often to Kamio's lips but he never said anything after that - it seemed he shut himself up as well, in the silence...and the hollow...and the lonely.
And Shinji couldn't break through that wall. He couldn't... for once, find anything to say.
Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any
Sense of compassion
Between supposed lovers
"Shinji..." was the soft - wait, soft? - word that slipped past lips chilled with emotion and Shinji wanted to step in and warm them and please, Akira, speak up. I need you and help but no, for once he couldn't move.
And nothing came past the dark-haired boy's mouth and the awkward chill settled into Kamio's bones. He wanted to shake the words out of his now silent partner and cry and beg for a word, something... anything but no, for once he couldn't move.
Can't walk away and yet, cannot stay. Just... please, once upon a time I knew that it would last forever, the other thought for the other.
I know the pieces fit...
I know the pieces fit...
I know the pieces fit...