(no subject)
title: ordinary
author: chartre
rating: r
pairing: nishikato
summary: you knocked over the books he carried every time you saw him just to humiliate him for making you feel that certain sort of weird, but he still looked back and smiled at you.
notes: fictional. written in lowercase because the format was experimental.
ordinary
nishikato
when you were five, you watched men carry big brown boxes into the house next to yours. you heard you were having new neighbors; a lovely young couple and a son, three years younger than you were. he was sitting in his blue little stroller and you couldn't possible ignore him even more. the minute he saw you across the garden hedge, he cried out loud and you knew from then that you two were never going to get along. the next day and onwards, you made faces at him in secrecy. he'd cry every time, and his parents never knew why he always did.
when you were six, you finally learned that his name was shigeaki. you told your mom you hated him since you were five, and you hated his name even more because it was too long, too strange. you always referred to him as the-annoying-boy-next-door. the day their family showed up at your house for dinner, you saw him, and he was three years old. your mother told you to make friends with him, but instead you made faces again and made him cry. this time they all knew why, and your mother punished you by standing in the corner. you still picked on the-annoying-boy-next-door after that.
when you were seven, you cried to yourself on the bathroom floor of your house because you found out you were attending the same school as the-annoying-boy-next-door. you swore that your parents would rue that day they told you. when you saw him in his school uniform, you thought he looked horrible, and you told him he looked like a girl. he only looked at you oddly, and then you frowned. it started to grow on you that you two were going to have to be in the same school for a long time, and you finally started to think otherwise about him and his uniform.
when you were nine, you finally started to call the-annoying-boy-next-door by his first name, his proper name: shigeaki. you thought he earned the respect. you told you classmate koyama about it, and he thought it was a mouthful. you smiled and couldn't agree more, until he gave him a shorter nickname. your classmate started to call him shige. you seemed somehow insignificant as you watched them get along so well, and it bothered you a lot. you then thought of calling him shige, too, but you never really did.
when you were twelve, you learned how to play the guitar. your parents were so proud, your friends thought you were awesome, and shige said you were wonderful, word for word. it was at the same time your hormones started to kick in, and you felt a certain sort of weird when he said it. you knocked over the books he carried every time you saw him just to humiliate him for making you feel that certain sort of weird, but he still looked back and smiled at you.
when you were thirteen, you learned about rage and bitter resentment because all your other classmates were finally taller than you. you were suddenly always the first boy in line when it was p.e. because you were finally the shortest in your class. koyama was a giant toothpick with an orange stuck on top, and you were the stubby yellow lego person. the only person you didn't hate at that time was shige because he still wasn't any taller at eleven, but by the time he turned twelve, he sprouted two cm and you started hating him too.
when you were fifteen, you had your first kiss. she was a pretty young girl in your school, shige's classmate. you went to her classroom to pick her up, and then you kissed her in the empty classroom, until shige dropped by because he left his book. you sprang back in surprise, and he could only bow his head in embarrassment the entire time he was searching for his book. he walked out awkwardly as always, and you went back to kissing the girl. you broke up two weeks later.
when you were sixteen, shige walked up to you in his ever-awkward ways and told you he liked you. you couldn't help it, but you screamed at him and called him an idiot, called him all these foul names he wasn't supposed to hear because you knew you didn't mean it, but you wanted to mean it. he knew it was inevitable, but he smiled at you anyway, and thanked you. that evening, you found out from your mother that he was crying, but he wouldn't tell his parents why. you, however, knew why.
when you were seventeen, you graduated from high school and told yourself you wouldn't go to college. you dyed your hair bleach, moved out of your parents' house and started a band with a few friends. your parents were disappointed, and shige was depressed. you found out from koyama who kept close contact with you, and was currently hanging out with shige. the day you found out from koyama that shige missed you, and that he often thought about you, you wrote a song about stupid love, and you got famous for it. you could only thank yourself.
when you were eighteen, you found out that shige had graduated early from high school, and had finally applied for a good college. he was studying the law, and you thought you couldn't care less, but you secretly watched him grow from being the awkward boy you once knew him as to a refined young man, watched him carry himself with much respect and seriousness, and it dawned on you how he's grown to be so mature even at the verge of sixteen. you wrote another song, and this time it was about unadulterated love. you watched him buy your single out in a music store.
when you were nineteen, you thought you'd drop by home just to see how your parents were doing. you were a famous idol, you'd dyed your hair back to black, and you were dressed well for the occasion. the door opened and you saw shige standing right in front of you in shirt and shorts, and you couldn't say anything. he looked at you in surprise, naturally, and let you in wordlessly. you couldn't help but look at him the entire time: the curve of his hips, his thighs, and show of skin on his belly beneath his shirt when he lifted his arms. you thought you could stay at home a little longer.
when you were twenty, you thought it was strange that shige was still living in his parents' house and was, more often than not, staying in your house. you found him in your old bedroom one night, the door opened and his bare back facing the door under the natural light of the dark. you heard a moan, and that piqued something in you. you went to bed that evening and did the same, touched yourself, only to surprise yourself with thoughts of shige as you did.
when you were twenty-one, you watched shige for most of your days, for most of your time. you thought he was never going to stop being awkward, and you finally thought it was such a significant and cute trait. you watched him everyday, until he decided to move out and live in a tiny apartment in the city, and you secretly followed him there, in a nice maisonette down the street. there, you watched him too, and it was then you realized you probably loved him, but were just simply to proud to admit it.
when you were twenty-two, you caught yourself drinking with him in bar, but it never hit your subconscious mind. you were both drinking, toasting to life and then you kissed him, you kissed him so hard and brought him to bed, fucked him and it felt so good, so damn good, and you fucked him again, and he moaned and you both climaxed. you woke up the following morning without much recollection of the previous night, and you found him there beside you on your bed. you told him you were sorry. it was just for show because you meant what you did, and then you told him you loved him. shige left you that same morning, and your head ached with that hangover.
when you were twenty-three, you tried to forget about what happened while you were twenty-two, but you wrote songs about it anyway (you even entitled one song "twenty-two"). you were thinking of him, constantly, and everyday you finally admitted to missing him. one day, you saw him buy your single at the music store. you smiled, but your heart broke. he looked up and he saw you, and you couldn't help but look at him sadly. you thought of saying sorry and meaning it this time because you did mean it. so you did; you walked up to him and said you were sorry, and he only looked at you soundlessly.
when you were twenty-four, you released a song that confessed your love for him, entitled "code", and you only hoped that through that intelligent mind of his, he'd know what it meant and for whom you meant it. you found him at the bookstore across your maisonette, and you decided wholeheartedly for yourself, walked up to him and told him again that you were sorry, that you loved him. you called him shige, and then you realized how that could have been the first time you called him that, and it felt nice. you blushed. he told you he liked your newest single, and that he knew about your code. you tried to smile, but you were going to cry. you tried to hold your tears back, but, "i loved you, you know. for so long," he said to you, his hands on your wrists, "and i still do." you kissed him against a bookshelf, your fingers threading and he kissed you back, and you were both crying. you were so happy. you released another single. it was called ordinary. you dedicated it to him, and you both already knew.
author: chartre
rating: r
pairing: nishikato
summary: you knocked over the books he carried every time you saw him just to humiliate him for making you feel that certain sort of weird, but he still looked back and smiled at you.
notes: fictional. written in lowercase because the format was experimental.
ordinary
nishikato
when you were five, you watched men carry big brown boxes into the house next to yours. you heard you were having new neighbors; a lovely young couple and a son, three years younger than you were. he was sitting in his blue little stroller and you couldn't possible ignore him even more. the minute he saw you across the garden hedge, he cried out loud and you knew from then that you two were never going to get along. the next day and onwards, you made faces at him in secrecy. he'd cry every time, and his parents never knew why he always did.
when you were six, you finally learned that his name was shigeaki. you told your mom you hated him since you were five, and you hated his name even more because it was too long, too strange. you always referred to him as the-annoying-boy-next-door. the day their family showed up at your house for dinner, you saw him, and he was three years old. your mother told you to make friends with him, but instead you made faces again and made him cry. this time they all knew why, and your mother punished you by standing in the corner. you still picked on the-annoying-boy-next-door after that.
when you were seven, you cried to yourself on the bathroom floor of your house because you found out you were attending the same school as the-annoying-boy-next-door. you swore that your parents would rue that day they told you. when you saw him in his school uniform, you thought he looked horrible, and you told him he looked like a girl. he only looked at you oddly, and then you frowned. it started to grow on you that you two were going to have to be in the same school for a long time, and you finally started to think otherwise about him and his uniform.
when you were nine, you finally started to call the-annoying-boy-next-door by his first name, his proper name: shigeaki. you thought he earned the respect. you told you classmate koyama about it, and he thought it was a mouthful. you smiled and couldn't agree more, until he gave him a shorter nickname. your classmate started to call him shige. you seemed somehow insignificant as you watched them get along so well, and it bothered you a lot. you then thought of calling him shige, too, but you never really did.
when you were twelve, you learned how to play the guitar. your parents were so proud, your friends thought you were awesome, and shige said you were wonderful, word for word. it was at the same time your hormones started to kick in, and you felt a certain sort of weird when he said it. you knocked over the books he carried every time you saw him just to humiliate him for making you feel that certain sort of weird, but he still looked back and smiled at you.
when you were thirteen, you learned about rage and bitter resentment because all your other classmates were finally taller than you. you were suddenly always the first boy in line when it was p.e. because you were finally the shortest in your class. koyama was a giant toothpick with an orange stuck on top, and you were the stubby yellow lego person. the only person you didn't hate at that time was shige because he still wasn't any taller at eleven, but by the time he turned twelve, he sprouted two cm and you started hating him too.
when you were fifteen, you had your first kiss. she was a pretty young girl in your school, shige's classmate. you went to her classroom to pick her up, and then you kissed her in the empty classroom, until shige dropped by because he left his book. you sprang back in surprise, and he could only bow his head in embarrassment the entire time he was searching for his book. he walked out awkwardly as always, and you went back to kissing the girl. you broke up two weeks later.
when you were sixteen, shige walked up to you in his ever-awkward ways and told you he liked you. you couldn't help it, but you screamed at him and called him an idiot, called him all these foul names he wasn't supposed to hear because you knew you didn't mean it, but you wanted to mean it. he knew it was inevitable, but he smiled at you anyway, and thanked you. that evening, you found out from your mother that he was crying, but he wouldn't tell his parents why. you, however, knew why.
when you were seventeen, you graduated from high school and told yourself you wouldn't go to college. you dyed your hair bleach, moved out of your parents' house and started a band with a few friends. your parents were disappointed, and shige was depressed. you found out from koyama who kept close contact with you, and was currently hanging out with shige. the day you found out from koyama that shige missed you, and that he often thought about you, you wrote a song about stupid love, and you got famous for it. you could only thank yourself.
when you were eighteen, you found out that shige had graduated early from high school, and had finally applied for a good college. he was studying the law, and you thought you couldn't care less, but you secretly watched him grow from being the awkward boy you once knew him as to a refined young man, watched him carry himself with much respect and seriousness, and it dawned on you how he's grown to be so mature even at the verge of sixteen. you wrote another song, and this time it was about unadulterated love. you watched him buy your single out in a music store.
when you were nineteen, you thought you'd drop by home just to see how your parents were doing. you were a famous idol, you'd dyed your hair back to black, and you were dressed well for the occasion. the door opened and you saw shige standing right in front of you in shirt and shorts, and you couldn't say anything. he looked at you in surprise, naturally, and let you in wordlessly. you couldn't help but look at him the entire time: the curve of his hips, his thighs, and show of skin on his belly beneath his shirt when he lifted his arms. you thought you could stay at home a little longer.
when you were twenty, you thought it was strange that shige was still living in his parents' house and was, more often than not, staying in your house. you found him in your old bedroom one night, the door opened and his bare back facing the door under the natural light of the dark. you heard a moan, and that piqued something in you. you went to bed that evening and did the same, touched yourself, only to surprise yourself with thoughts of shige as you did.
when you were twenty-one, you watched shige for most of your days, for most of your time. you thought he was never going to stop being awkward, and you finally thought it was such a significant and cute trait. you watched him everyday, until he decided to move out and live in a tiny apartment in the city, and you secretly followed him there, in a nice maisonette down the street. there, you watched him too, and it was then you realized you probably loved him, but were just simply to proud to admit it.
when you were twenty-two, you caught yourself drinking with him in bar, but it never hit your subconscious mind. you were both drinking, toasting to life and then you kissed him, you kissed him so hard and brought him to bed, fucked him and it felt so good, so damn good, and you fucked him again, and he moaned and you both climaxed. you woke up the following morning without much recollection of the previous night, and you found him there beside you on your bed. you told him you were sorry. it was just for show because you meant what you did, and then you told him you loved him. shige left you that same morning, and your head ached with that hangover.
when you were twenty-three, you tried to forget about what happened while you were twenty-two, but you wrote songs about it anyway (you even entitled one song "twenty-two"). you were thinking of him, constantly, and everyday you finally admitted to missing him. one day, you saw him buy your single at the music store. you smiled, but your heart broke. he looked up and he saw you, and you couldn't help but look at him sadly. you thought of saying sorry and meaning it this time because you did mean it. so you did; you walked up to him and said you were sorry, and he only looked at you soundlessly.
when you were twenty-four, you released a song that confessed your love for him, entitled "code", and you only hoped that through that intelligent mind of his, he'd know what it meant and for whom you meant it. you found him at the bookstore across your maisonette, and you decided wholeheartedly for yourself, walked up to him and told him again that you were sorry, that you loved him. you called him shige, and then you realized how that could have been the first time you called him that, and it felt nice. you blushed. he told you he liked your newest single, and that he knew about your code. you tried to smile, but you were going to cry. you tried to hold your tears back, but, "i loved you, you know. for so long," he said to you, his hands on your wrists, "and i still do." you kissed him against a bookshelf, your fingers threading and he kissed you back, and you were both crying. you were so happy. you released another single. it was called ordinary. you dedicated it to him, and you both already knew.