Follow You Down
by Kelsey
Disclaimer: If I were a member of CLAMP, it would be spelled KCLAMP.
Notes: Written for a drabble challenge courtesy of RackhamRose. Ugh, ugh, ugh, this is so dry and uninspired. xx;;
--
To her credit, Arashi didn't even blink as Sorata rocketed past her on roller blades, despite the fact that both of them happened to be inside the Imonoyama Mansion rather than on the sidewalk, where any normal person would expect such an activity to occur.
Without looking up from her book, she reached out and grabbed him by the hem of his shirt, causing him to fall to the ground with an undignified yelp. After eyeing him surreptitiously to make sure he was unhurt, Arashi said calmly, "You'll scuff up the floors, Sorata-san."
"Nee-chan, it's raining outside!" he whined, looking up at her with beseeching eyes. "And that really hurt, too!"
She raised her eyebrows at him.
Sorata managed to pull himself to his feet long enough to flop next to her on the sofa--a little too close, she noted, but she couldn't move away, being right up against the arm. Speaking of arms... Arashi slapped away the hand creeping around her shoulders with an irritated little noise, irked more at the color rising in her face than any action on Sorata's part. Honestly, if this were any other impertinent boy...
"You," Sorata pronounced, "don't know how to have fun."
"Marking up our host's floor hardly constitutes as 'fun,'" she retorted instantly, parrying his thrust with expertise. That finished with, she picked up her book once again, determined to bury herself in its pages. Just a few more pages of puzzling her way through the twists and turns of her English textbook and the assignment would be out of the way, never again to darken her afternoon. Much as she hated to admit it, Arashi did not have a head for languages, at least in her opinion. A battle for a kekkai had interfered with last week's studies, and her last test had been marked with only an eighty-eight at the top of the page. She simply couldn't allow this.
Her ire rose once more as Sorata plucked the book from her hands, going cross-eyed as he tried to read the title upside down. "Nee-chan, you don't need to study so hard."
"I beg to differ." She made a grab for the book, but he dangled it above her grasping hands, an infuriating few inches out of reach. "Sorata-san! Give it back!"
He grinned unrepentantly, looking altogether too pleased with himself for redirecting her attentions towards him. "That test won't count for much, Nee-chan, not after all the work I've seen you put in since then. But you're gonna wear yourself out if you don't take a break once in a while. Life is short--don't waste it on too much of a good thing!"
Arashi hadn't been paying attention to a word he said; as Sorata spoke, the book went lower and lower still. Opportunity at hand, she made a dive for the book, realizing only belatedly that if she missed, she would all but throw herself across the boy's lap. Her fingers skidded across the smooth plastic cover...
And then she felt herself being lifted.
Her body swung in a dizzying arc, and Arashi, too shocked to cry out in protest, could only reach out to latch onto fistfuls of Sorata's shirt. One arm around her back, a hand curled over her shoulder, and the other arm underneath the backs of her knees, cradling her against his chest. And they were moving, rocketing past blurry outlines of tables and chairs and clocks and bookshelves. Heart jackhammering, her first two thoughts were Is he insane?! and then We're going to die!
"I'm gonna make you have fun. Nee-chan!"
Remembering herself, Arashi shouted "Sorata-san, put me down!" and flailed her legs uselessly, not in a position conducive to kicking his empty head, or indeed any part of his body. If she let go, she faced certain doom, despite the strength in the arms supporting her. Of all the idiotic things to do--! If he were really as enamored of her as he claimed, what was he doing, dragging her away from her studies and quite possibly putting her life in danger?
"Nee-chan!" Sorata sounded aggrieved. "You almost got my face!"
"Sorata-san!"
"Arashi-san...?"
Yuzuriha's confused question barely had time to register before they swept past, undoubtedly leaving behind a rather bemused young girl and her loyal inugami. A dizzying whirlwind of motion and forwards, always forwards, sweeping away worries about test grades and kekkai and permanently damaging the floors. Sorata had a talent for that, she had noticed, a remarkable gift for cheering others up.
But she hadn't been upset--why should she need cheering?
It was all very puzzling.
There was a distinct tinkling of breaking glass. "Oops, grazed the lamp..."
Arashi squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to reconcile herself to soon sharing the fate of the doomed lamp. But shutting her eyes proved to be even more terrifying, as now there was only the almost-falling sensation of speed, the almost-security of her head against Sorata's chest. With some surprise she realized that in her position she could hear his heartbeat, just a little faster than normal, a dynamic variation of tempo, an ancient song set to an accelerated rhythm. Her grip on Sorata's shirt loosened fractionally.
And then, without so much as a warning, it was over.
She opened her eyes to find herself sprawled on Sorata's lap, an undignified position if ever there was one. He'd managed to skate right back to the couch from before without killing either of them, an achievement she did not feel the need to congratulate him on. Sorata had his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling as he attempted to catch his breath. Or perhaps it was simply a sign of his insanity. What could have possessed him?
Still, the memory of an open-mouthed Yuzuriha...
Sound rose inside her like bubbles, bubbles from champagne of a vintage year, their fragile shells tickling as they bumped together in their lungs, then up, up, until they brushed against the back of her throat until they burst in quiet merriment.
Kishuu Arashi laughed softly, but with joy all the same.
After a few moments of chuckling, she looked up only to find Sorata's eyes fixed on her, an expression on his face that made her stomach lurch uncomfortably yet strangely not unpleasantly. Unable to meet his eyes, she noted the way one corner of his mouth went slightly higher than the other to form a strange smile... quirky and tender all at once. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"I've never seen you laugh before." Sorata's voice was hushed, and he reached with one hand to cup her cheek, tilting her face up until she was forced to look him in the eye, to acknowledge all that was there for the world to read. Or just her. Did it matter? It was this gentleness of face and manner that made her unable to quite brush him aside as an overly exuberant boy with some sort of hopeless infatuation--she had seen couples touch each other this same way, with an infinite care bordering on reverence, a deep joy coming simply of the ability to touch, to reach out and find someone else there.
"You need to smile more, Nee-chan.
"You're so beautiful when you do it."
And suddenly she was afraid, terrified of what his words meant and what his face said so eloquently and whether she deserved all of this laid out before her, she of the sword in her hand--how could she touch with answering gentleness with such a thing lurking somewhere beneath her blood? Feverishly, irrationally, she moved away, convinced that she would draw blood if she touched him. Perhaps she would. He wanted to die for her, and any encouragement, any reciprocation of his absurd notions, and he would never give up and go find another woman to love... another woman's hands to stain with his blood.
Sorata sighed, removing his hand from her face, the expression of before fading, replaced by one of disappointment. He handed her a book and she stared at it, uncomprehending.
"Now that you've had some fun, you can go back to studying," he explained at last, with a cheerful smile to tell her everything was all right.
Arashi nodded, snatched the book, and fled the room, cheeks burning.
by Kelsey
Disclaimer: If I were a member of CLAMP, it would be spelled KCLAMP.
Notes: Written for a drabble challenge courtesy of RackhamRose. Ugh, ugh, ugh, this is so dry and uninspired. xx;;
--
To her credit, Arashi didn't even blink as Sorata rocketed past her on roller blades, despite the fact that both of them happened to be inside the Imonoyama Mansion rather than on the sidewalk, where any normal person would expect such an activity to occur.
Without looking up from her book, she reached out and grabbed him by the hem of his shirt, causing him to fall to the ground with an undignified yelp. After eyeing him surreptitiously to make sure he was unhurt, Arashi said calmly, "You'll scuff up the floors, Sorata-san."
"Nee-chan, it's raining outside!" he whined, looking up at her with beseeching eyes. "And that really hurt, too!"
She raised her eyebrows at him.
Sorata managed to pull himself to his feet long enough to flop next to her on the sofa--a little too close, she noted, but she couldn't move away, being right up against the arm. Speaking of arms... Arashi slapped away the hand creeping around her shoulders with an irritated little noise, irked more at the color rising in her face than any action on Sorata's part. Honestly, if this were any other impertinent boy...
"You," Sorata pronounced, "don't know how to have fun."
"Marking up our host's floor hardly constitutes as 'fun,'" she retorted instantly, parrying his thrust with expertise. That finished with, she picked up her book once again, determined to bury herself in its pages. Just a few more pages of puzzling her way through the twists and turns of her English textbook and the assignment would be out of the way, never again to darken her afternoon. Much as she hated to admit it, Arashi did not have a head for languages, at least in her opinion. A battle for a kekkai had interfered with last week's studies, and her last test had been marked with only an eighty-eight at the top of the page. She simply couldn't allow this.
Her ire rose once more as Sorata plucked the book from her hands, going cross-eyed as he tried to read the title upside down. "Nee-chan, you don't need to study so hard."
"I beg to differ." She made a grab for the book, but he dangled it above her grasping hands, an infuriating few inches out of reach. "Sorata-san! Give it back!"
He grinned unrepentantly, looking altogether too pleased with himself for redirecting her attentions towards him. "That test won't count for much, Nee-chan, not after all the work I've seen you put in since then. But you're gonna wear yourself out if you don't take a break once in a while. Life is short--don't waste it on too much of a good thing!"
Arashi hadn't been paying attention to a word he said; as Sorata spoke, the book went lower and lower still. Opportunity at hand, she made a dive for the book, realizing only belatedly that if she missed, she would all but throw herself across the boy's lap. Her fingers skidded across the smooth plastic cover...
And then she felt herself being lifted.
Her body swung in a dizzying arc, and Arashi, too shocked to cry out in protest, could only reach out to latch onto fistfuls of Sorata's shirt. One arm around her back, a hand curled over her shoulder, and the other arm underneath the backs of her knees, cradling her against his chest. And they were moving, rocketing past blurry outlines of tables and chairs and clocks and bookshelves. Heart jackhammering, her first two thoughts were Is he insane?! and then We're going to die!
"I'm gonna make you have fun. Nee-chan!"
Remembering herself, Arashi shouted "Sorata-san, put me down!" and flailed her legs uselessly, not in a position conducive to kicking his empty head, or indeed any part of his body. If she let go, she faced certain doom, despite the strength in the arms supporting her. Of all the idiotic things to do--! If he were really as enamored of her as he claimed, what was he doing, dragging her away from her studies and quite possibly putting her life in danger?
"Nee-chan!" Sorata sounded aggrieved. "You almost got my face!"
"Sorata-san!"
"Arashi-san...?"
Yuzuriha's confused question barely had time to register before they swept past, undoubtedly leaving behind a rather bemused young girl and her loyal inugami. A dizzying whirlwind of motion and forwards, always forwards, sweeping away worries about test grades and kekkai and permanently damaging the floors. Sorata had a talent for that, she had noticed, a remarkable gift for cheering others up.
But she hadn't been upset--why should she need cheering?
It was all very puzzling.
There was a distinct tinkling of breaking glass. "Oops, grazed the lamp..."
Arashi squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to reconcile herself to soon sharing the fate of the doomed lamp. But shutting her eyes proved to be even more terrifying, as now there was only the almost-falling sensation of speed, the almost-security of her head against Sorata's chest. With some surprise she realized that in her position she could hear his heartbeat, just a little faster than normal, a dynamic variation of tempo, an ancient song set to an accelerated rhythm. Her grip on Sorata's shirt loosened fractionally.
And then, without so much as a warning, it was over.
She opened her eyes to find herself sprawled on Sorata's lap, an undignified position if ever there was one. He'd managed to skate right back to the couch from before without killing either of them, an achievement she did not feel the need to congratulate him on. Sorata had his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling as he attempted to catch his breath. Or perhaps it was simply a sign of his insanity. What could have possessed him?
Still, the memory of an open-mouthed Yuzuriha...
Sound rose inside her like bubbles, bubbles from champagne of a vintage year, their fragile shells tickling as they bumped together in their lungs, then up, up, until they brushed against the back of her throat until they burst in quiet merriment.
Kishuu Arashi laughed softly, but with joy all the same.
After a few moments of chuckling, she looked up only to find Sorata's eyes fixed on her, an expression on his face that made her stomach lurch uncomfortably yet strangely not unpleasantly. Unable to meet his eyes, she noted the way one corner of his mouth went slightly higher than the other to form a strange smile... quirky and tender all at once. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"I've never seen you laugh before." Sorata's voice was hushed, and he reached with one hand to cup her cheek, tilting her face up until she was forced to look him in the eye, to acknowledge all that was there for the world to read. Or just her. Did it matter? It was this gentleness of face and manner that made her unable to quite brush him aside as an overly exuberant boy with some sort of hopeless infatuation--she had seen couples touch each other this same way, with an infinite care bordering on reverence, a deep joy coming simply of the ability to touch, to reach out and find someone else there.
"You need to smile more, Nee-chan.
"You're so beautiful when you do it."
And suddenly she was afraid, terrified of what his words meant and what his face said so eloquently and whether she deserved all of this laid out before her, she of the sword in her hand--how could she touch with answering gentleness with such a thing lurking somewhere beneath her blood? Feverishly, irrationally, she moved away, convinced that she would draw blood if she touched him. Perhaps she would. He wanted to die for her, and any encouragement, any reciprocation of his absurd notions, and he would never give up and go find another woman to love... another woman's hands to stain with his blood.
Sorata sighed, removing his hand from her face, the expression of before fading, replaced by one of disappointment. He handed her a book and she stared at it, uncomprehending.
"Now that you've had some fun, you can go back to studying," he explained at last, with a cheerful smile to tell her everything was all right.
Arashi nodded, snatched the book, and fled the room, cheeks burning.