Color Me Pink
Touya, on Nakuru's favorite color. Pink. Alot of pink. ------ txn, random, semi-crack, better off not to be taken seriously. XD
un-betaed. cannot be bothered, blah blah, no time, i'm super sleepy, i wanna go to bed right now. i can do this tomorrow morning but i'll think about it because i might probably forget again. so leave the ' wtf, grammarspellingzchecks,hellloyabitch!!!' out of your reviews, thank you and i'll appreciate it like tons. thanks.
applystandarddisclaimerhere.
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Everything about her is pink.
She wears pink everyday when he sees her on campus, lugging her textbooks close to herself that are wrapped with pink birthday wrappers with pink hearts. She carries a pink bento box to school, she wears her hair up in a pink hairtie, and sometimes she likes to play the clown by wearing pinkish contact lens that scare the wits out of those who look into her eyes sometimes. She once mentioned to him that if she ever fixes her teeth with braces, she'll choose pink colors for every teeth, too, just because she can.
If possible, she tells him she wants to make this world pink.
He only raises his nose into the air, snorts, and says in passing how pink's too sissy for him. It's such a feminine color; girly --- he cannot help but pass her a strange look when he intentionally strings that sentence for her. Encrypting in that message, he's trying to figure out why of all colors, she'll like this most. Of all people, she's the one that he least thinks will ever fall for pink and wants to see her entire world in pink.
Much less wear pink skirts, pink sundresses (that sometimes makes his heart flip over when she twirls around in pink ballerina flats to match), pink simple tees with funny pink slogans on them (that makes him laugh sometimes, but he makes sure he does so when she's not looking and he turns around to look at his toes with interest so she doesn't notice at all, but she won't tell him she always does anyhow----it's her secret), and then they're days when she comes to school with pink mascara on her cheeks --- she claims she hates make-up, really. It's so unnatural, she always says. She knows she's pretty and lovely by herself. But sometimes she admits she can't help wanting to pink-up her cheeks because she just wants to feel more pink, if that ever was possible.
And then she becomes pink.
So much so that each time he sees pink, he thinks of her.
The Valentine's Day chocolates she wrapped in a pink box that sits on his desk at home, the pink balloons that she delivered personally to his house when he was sick with a fever three weeks ago, the English notes she copied for him when he took a day off taking care of his little sister at home that one day noticing how she penned her handwriting in pink pens and markers, never mistaking her she dotted her Is with a pink heartshape on the top-----
---even his name printed on the bottom of those notes, those chocolates, on every single balloon sitting in his room, was all pink.
Kinomoto Touya.
Pink letters. Kinomoto with a heart-shaped I.
And he doesn't know when it is that he wakes up one morning to take a good look around his room --- and realizes everything is flooded with pink.
Not just his desk – it's enough with all that pink stationery she's lent him. Pink stapler. Pink pencils. Pink eraser. Plus those presents already mentioned before.
A L-sized tee shirt that he half speculates is his hang on his wardrobe. He recalls how she's actually forced it on him in the shopping mall the other day, convincing him to make the purchase somehow. And now it's staring right back at him, confronting him with the glaring truth that he now owns a tee shirt that is pink. Of all holy colors. When he is a guy, and guys aren't supposed to like pink, because it's too girly and feminine and he must, should hate pink.
He fingers his shirt.
Grimaces.
He looks at his bed sheets.
Pink.
She's changed it for him the other day when she had crashed his house.
He looks at the huge picture pasted on his bedroom wall --- an enlarged neoprint of the two of them framed in pink when she had pulled him into that stupid, stupid bizzare machine the other day hanging out after classes. She had insisted he paste it on his wall, and she will see it the next time she visited his bedroom, or else.
And there's more ---- she's rubbed off on his little sister apparently. So now even Sakura's dressed in pink. Pink sandals, pink sundresses, pink hair ties. For the first time, he shares Syaoran's pain – and it makes it so, so much worse, because wherever he steps out of his room into his house and sees his little sister, he'll think of pink, sees pink, and then relates it back to her. And when he sees Syaoran in the house (after attempting to death-glare him into a corpse, that is, if looks could kill), they'll both exchange glances that goes: whassup with the pink, my future brother-in-law! (though they'll never admit the last part over their dead bodies) ---
----and Touya will just think of Sakura, her latest fetish with pink, and blame it all one person again.
He realizes with dismay, that it's all her fault.
He takes every step. In his house, out of his house.
Whatever he sees, whoever -----
her influence is there. Be it in colors ( goddammit you, pink, goddamn you!) , be it in the literal presence of his younger sister lurking around and reminding of who played that much a crucial role affecting her fashion taste of late,
Touya tosses himself out of bed, and glares hard at the room. . .
... not before staring himself down in the mirror, and realizes all too late that he's somehow even ended up wearing a (goddamn) pink pajamas.
Goddamn you and your pink, Akizuki.
He goes to school and sees pink, because all he sees and smells and breathes is her.
He comes home, wanting a break from that suffocating, sissy, feminine, goddammit-not-masculine!color ---- only to see pink everywhere.
He collaspes in a heap on his bed, and lifts a finger to his heart.
He presses down and draws a breath ----
his cheeks turn pink. (PINK! goddammit, what manly, masculine, properly-brought-out and cultivated, normal teenage boy has pink cheeks!)
oh my god -----
(from some distances away, he hears the sounds of the female singer Pink from his sister's bedroom radio.)
He throws a (pink) pillow at his door pasted with (pink-framed) neoprints of her and him.
His heart races like crazy, and he closes his eyes.
All he sees is her.
And pink.
Fuck, I hate pink.
He squeezes his fist, along with some many bedsheets in between his fingers.
....but I love you.
owari.
A/N:
....it...feels cheesy.
this fic borders on 1) the lack of plot 2) semi-crack 3) obsessive fetish over one color which I personally have no attachment towards 4) possible, or already there OOC.
..... it's 2 in the morning, and my head is spinning from sleep-deprivation.
that explains ALOt. ALOT.
I wanted to quit my word processor and go to bed like mid-way, but decided it wouldn't do torturing my lovely Touya and then leaving him there in that misery. I love annoying the heck out of that guy.
Enough . I need sleep. (And some more crack. )