The Writer's Block
Series: Fruits Basket
A/N: This isn't what I was hoping it to be. It sounded much, much better before I actually wrote it.
It was a late, stormy Saturday night. Shigure sat awake at his desk, clutching his pen in his hand. He was writing, as he always did, but this time he was having trouble overcoming his writer's block.
Swirling inside his mind was a multitude of ideas, each ever more fleeting than the last. Shigure would attempt to grasp and pin one of these ideas to paper before it escaped into the depths of his mind. His pen shook each time a thought took coherence; each time, the thought would leave his mind before he could force his hand to write it down. It would tantalize him; he would reach into the back of his mind to grasp it, forcing onto his paper with his pen.
Finally, he seized an idea, one that lingered in his mind just long enough to capture; he furiously started scribbling down his elusive idea, afraid that if he didn't write fast enough, the thought would subside into the depths of his mind, and never again resurface. A single bead of sweat formed at his brow as he wrote with even more vigor than before. The thought seemed like an elegant dance – graceful and smooth, leading him without pause to the next step.
Shigure's hand became slick with the sweat that had formed on his hands as he poured his story onto the pages, each letter becoming progressively sloppier its predecessor. He was afraid that if he didn't write down everything, it would somehow slide off the paper in an incomplete and incoherent heap.
As he continued to write, Shigure knew that he was drawing to a close. His idea – no, his story, his work of art would finally come to be. His breath became more rapid as he felt the ending in sight. Only a few more words, and his genius would finish manifesting itself among the pieces of paper that held it.
Shigure jumped and let out a small grunt of triumph. Unfortunately, he knocked over the desk, and the book which held his newly formed work was knocked to the ground. After a long moment and a bit of shuffling, the door to the room opened and Yuki walked in.
"What are you still doing awake?" he asked. He then looked at the floor, eyeing Shigure's book. With a fluid motion, he picked it up and read the title. Then he discarded the book back to its previous position on the floor and sighed.
"What were you doing writing The Downtown Girls?"