Title: Desperation..
Rating: G.
Paring: Thomas/Fiona.
Notes: Well. I'll thank Morgan for this concept, when I get over my
philophobia. If it weren't for that prick, I wouldn't have any reason to
write angst. My inspiration; the one thing I can love and hurt for so very
much. Such irony. He doesn't break my heart; I do it on my own.
Oh, screw my angst. Let's get on with this. Very short, very hastily thrown
together mess. Comment. Or don't; it doesn't matter. I needed to get this
out of my head.
Dan, by the way, is Ban's father's name. I know this because I rule and I
have seen the undubbed version of the series.
- - - -
"Fiona?" Did I - Did I stutter as horribly as I think I did? I pray not. Either way, she's turning toward me. Away from her work to look up at me, smiling brilliantly, beautifully. Oh, I probably look so stupid. Dressed typically, of course. Wringing my hands about a hat - one that's not even mine! I don't know who's it is, though I picked it up on the way to her wing. Did I mention she's -
Ah, how sad. One smile and I'm reduced to a puddle of rambling goop.
"Yes?" She's still smiling. I gulp and divert my gaze rather demurely, to the floor.
"I -"
She's looking at me like that again. I can see it faintly within the upper half of my vision. It's kind of a mixed bout of emotions. I don't think she cares for me as I do her. Actually, I know so. Everyone knows. Everyone has told me, even my brother, who seems almost stoic to something as delightfully painful as love.
Still, my heart races. My mind aches with the concept of her accepting it - simply doing something as small as acknowledging it, even.
'Everyone' was a vague word. 'Everyone' could be just Ban. Just Irvine. Just Moonbay. Just a few members of the Republic and Imperial army. 'Everyone' could simply be me, thinking negatively upon the subject, frowning and rejecting myself as a person due to my insecurities. But, that doesn't matter. The question at hand is of the utmost importance.
Does she know?
From the look on her face - naïve, calm and mildly curious - I don't think she does. There is no hint of knowing in her eyes. Mm. I take that back - there's always been knowing, in her. I believe she knows more than any of us do, though simply cannot reveal it. It's not the proper time. Mayhap not the proper people.
Maybe it wasn't her destiny to be found by Ban. Sometimes, I wish it were so. She wouldn't have met him. She wouldn't have loved him. She wouldn't have - well, met me. I wouldn't have ever had the ability to meet her. To not so secretly love someone of such utter.. amazing.. brilliancy.
I think she's growing tired of my stuttering, now. Or amused. She's smiling - not a smile of joy, though. Her typical smile. Still, I feel like, cliché as it may sound, butter. I'm melting and unable to stop myself.
I think she's mentally killing me. I need her. It's like some - incredibly stupid attraction that surpasses anything physical. She could very well have, well, half a face. I wouldn't care.
I - I love this person so very much..
You can't imagine the pain, which comes with seeing her love someone else. It's like being staked through the heart repetitively. Constantly. Every given moment of the day. One prick, two prick, three prick, four.
And when she smiles, it's like she's doing it herself.
It's murder! It's utterly unfair!
I hate the concept of thinking forward, into the future, and seeing myself living on the countryside. Probably with someone - not she, but someone. We would visit often, this I know. She would have a child with Ban, possibly two. One is more likely, though.
It would be a boy; I'm willing to bet. They would name it Dan. It'd be stupid to be anything but. Though, then again, she is Fiona. And he -
He is Ban.
And I hate this concept. And I'm still stuttering. And she's still staring, waiting, patient staring. Patient waiting.
My hands are trembling..
You know, I'd be happy if she simply knew. Accepting it is of no consequence. Just know; just realize that - I'd like to solve your problems for you. Let me cry for you! Let me take your pain and ball it into a pocket-sized piece of nothingness, so I can carry it around with me. And let me suffer for you, because the concept of you in pain makes me want to scream! Please..
Hah. Who would have thought? Thomas Richard Schwarz, technical genius and wannabe poet. Oh, mom would honestly be proud.
Forcing a smile, one to even match her own, I shake my head. She cants her head and watches in confusion, that confusion only increasing as I shrug and laugh lightly, fakely, shaking the thoughts and to-be confession away concomitantly. Painfully. "Nothing."
- - - -
"Fiona?" Did I - Did I stutter as horribly as I think I did? I pray not. Either way, she's turning toward me. Away from her work to look up at me, smiling brilliantly, beautifully. Oh, I probably look so stupid. Dressed typically, of course. Wringing my hands about a hat - one that's not even mine! I don't know who's it is, though I picked it up on the way to her wing. Did I mention she's -
Ah, how sad. One smile and I'm reduced to a puddle of rambling goop.
"Yes?" She's still smiling. I gulp and divert my gaze rather demurely, to the floor.
"I -"
She's looking at me like that again. I can see it faintly within the upper half of my vision. It's kind of a mixed bout of emotions. I don't think she cares for me as I do her. Actually, I know so. Everyone knows. Everyone has told me, even my brother, who seems almost stoic to something as delightfully painful as love.
Still, my heart races. My mind aches with the concept of her accepting it - simply doing something as small as acknowledging it, even.
'Everyone' was a vague word. 'Everyone' could be just Ban. Just Irvine. Just Moonbay. Just a few members of the Republic and Imperial army. 'Everyone' could simply be me, thinking negatively upon the subject, frowning and rejecting myself as a person due to my insecurities. But, that doesn't matter. The question at hand is of the utmost importance.
Does she know?
From the look on her face - naïve, calm and mildly curious - I don't think she does. There is no hint of knowing in her eyes. Mm. I take that back - there's always been knowing, in her. I believe she knows more than any of us do, though simply cannot reveal it. It's not the proper time. Mayhap not the proper people.
Maybe it wasn't her destiny to be found by Ban. Sometimes, I wish it were so. She wouldn't have met him. She wouldn't have loved him. She wouldn't have - well, met me. I wouldn't have ever had the ability to meet her. To not so secretly love someone of such utter.. amazing.. brilliancy.
I think she's growing tired of my stuttering, now. Or amused. She's smiling - not a smile of joy, though. Her typical smile. Still, I feel like, cliché as it may sound, butter. I'm melting and unable to stop myself.
I think she's mentally killing me. I need her. It's like some - incredibly stupid attraction that surpasses anything physical. She could very well have, well, half a face. I wouldn't care.
I - I love this person so very much..
You can't imagine the pain, which comes with seeing her love someone else. It's like being staked through the heart repetitively. Constantly. Every given moment of the day. One prick, two prick, three prick, four.
And when she smiles, it's like she's doing it herself.
It's murder! It's utterly unfair!
I hate the concept of thinking forward, into the future, and seeing myself living on the countryside. Probably with someone - not she, but someone. We would visit often, this I know. She would have a child with Ban, possibly two. One is more likely, though.
It would be a boy; I'm willing to bet. They would name it Dan. It'd be stupid to be anything but. Though, then again, she is Fiona. And he -
He is Ban.
And I hate this concept. And I'm still stuttering. And she's still staring, waiting, patient staring. Patient waiting.
My hands are trembling..
You know, I'd be happy if she simply knew. Accepting it is of no consequence. Just know; just realize that - I'd like to solve your problems for you. Let me cry for you! Let me take your pain and ball it into a pocket-sized piece of nothingness, so I can carry it around with me. And let me suffer for you, because the concept of you in pain makes me want to scream! Please..
Hah. Who would have thought? Thomas Richard Schwarz, technical genius and wannabe poet. Oh, mom would honestly be proud.
Forcing a smile, one to even match her own, I shake my head. She cants her head and watches in confusion, that confusion only increasing as I shrug and laugh lightly, fakely, shaking the thoughts and to-be confession away concomitantly. Painfully. "Nothing."