Disclaimer: I don't own Weiß Kreuz and when I face the facts, something I don't do often, I will never own them, no matter how many stars I wish on.
Warnings: Saaaap x_X It's not angsty like my usual fics...I think my angst muse died on me...again. Oh, and shonen ai...And too much talk about random body parts...
Dedication: Dedicated to Ribbon, for her birthday ^.^
A/N: God...you must be thinking "How long is she gonna take 'til she lets us read the fic, damnit!" Well, that is, if you're even reading this. Anyway, the title seems a bit...off ^^; Well, I was just listening to the song "My Beloved Monster" by Eels, so yeah...there's the title! Anyway, I used a line from the song, "She'll always be the only thing, that keeps me from the awful sting, that comes from living in a world that's so damn mean"---well, not the whole thing =] The last part...maybe you'll spot it if you look? Anyway, without further ado...! The fic!
~*~*~
His hands were probably the plainest pair among them and, in a way--so was he. His hair was not a honey gold or a vibrant, startling red, instead, it was a dull and common brown. His eyes were not an ocean blue, a leaf green, nor were they an enigmatic and mesmerizing amethyst...they were an ordinary, earth brown. And of course, he was not sweet, cute Omi or mysterious, attractive Aya or charming, eloquent Yohji. He was just Hidaka Ken. Old, reliable Ken. The boy next door. The nice but undeniably plain Ken, the one who could be easily overshadowed when standing amongst the brilliance and perfection that was the other members of Weiss.
And Kudou Yohji, the suave and irresistible Kudou Yohji who could have any woman over eighteen at his beck and call, was utterly and hopelessly in love with this...plain, simple creature. His hands, like the rest of him, were a complete work of art. They were sculpted, carved and chiseled to perfection, with careful fingers and attentive eyes. And though they were not spectacular and bewitching, and rather humble and coarse, they were wholly beautiful in their simplicity. They were written with calluses, slender, but blunt and square in shape with rough edges. The labor and hard work and suffering and effort...it was all evident and frank, just as Hidaka Ken himself was, and all *there* if you looked, betraying every detail that made up Ken's life.
His hands, they were not a frail beauty like Aya's--hands that called to be placed under a glass case and be looked upon with awe--they were wise, impulsive, clumsy, hot-blooded, compassionate and straightforward, the fact that they'd faced so many trials and tribulations only too apparent. Yohji...he loved these hands. These hands, that sought solace and comfort and called for someone to soothe away ugly calluses and kiss away the reality of a world that was so damn mean.
But Kudou Yohji did none of these things. He was no coward, let no one mistake his lack of action for cowardice--it was obvious Ken knew how he felt for him, and it was obvious that these feelings were returned...Nevertheless, there was a time for everything and now was a time when neither he nor Ken's feelings mattered very much. Soon, though, soon he would be able to hold those flower-watering, soccer ball-catching hands in his own and kiss away the tears that dripped and stained the palms.
Yohji looked up to find Ken staring at him. He gave the drooling schoolgirl her flowers and added a 'Have a nice day', accompanied by a winning smile. A tinkling sound marked the opening and closing of the door. The customer had left. The lanky blonde turned to Ken with a wink, "Have fun ogling me?" Instead of answering, the brunette blushed vibrantly before going back to his sweeping.
Yohji smiled. Soon enough. It didn't matter, that he couldn't voice his feelings out loud--they were just words. He'd uttered those sacred three words so many times without meaning it, to so many women...nameless and faceless people that seemed to blur together, so great were their importance. It didn't matter, that he couldn't say them to the one person that made him mean it. What they had was so much more than that, and he would not degrade it by trying to sum it up in three words.
Soon. And when it happened, they would grow wings and soar and break away from expectations and guilt and death. They would fly to a place where angels were more than fantasy and murder was but a distant nightmare. They would fly away, and their hands would be entwined. Those perfect hands.
~*~*~*~
Right. Ok. ^^; Bbai, r&r, please! Hope you enjoyed this little bit of plotlessness...!
--silence
Warnings: Saaaap x_X It's not angsty like my usual fics...I think my angst muse died on me...again. Oh, and shonen ai...And too much talk about random body parts...
Dedication: Dedicated to Ribbon, for her birthday ^.^
A/N: God...you must be thinking "How long is she gonna take 'til she lets us read the fic, damnit!" Well, that is, if you're even reading this. Anyway, the title seems a bit...off ^^; Well, I was just listening to the song "My Beloved Monster" by Eels, so yeah...there's the title! Anyway, I used a line from the song, "She'll always be the only thing, that keeps me from the awful sting, that comes from living in a world that's so damn mean"---well, not the whole thing =] The last part...maybe you'll spot it if you look? Anyway, without further ado...! The fic!
~*~*~
His hands were probably the plainest pair among them and, in a way--so was he. His hair was not a honey gold or a vibrant, startling red, instead, it was a dull and common brown. His eyes were not an ocean blue, a leaf green, nor were they an enigmatic and mesmerizing amethyst...they were an ordinary, earth brown. And of course, he was not sweet, cute Omi or mysterious, attractive Aya or charming, eloquent Yohji. He was just Hidaka Ken. Old, reliable Ken. The boy next door. The nice but undeniably plain Ken, the one who could be easily overshadowed when standing amongst the brilliance and perfection that was the other members of Weiss.
And Kudou Yohji, the suave and irresistible Kudou Yohji who could have any woman over eighteen at his beck and call, was utterly and hopelessly in love with this...plain, simple creature. His hands, like the rest of him, were a complete work of art. They were sculpted, carved and chiseled to perfection, with careful fingers and attentive eyes. And though they were not spectacular and bewitching, and rather humble and coarse, they were wholly beautiful in their simplicity. They were written with calluses, slender, but blunt and square in shape with rough edges. The labor and hard work and suffering and effort...it was all evident and frank, just as Hidaka Ken himself was, and all *there* if you looked, betraying every detail that made up Ken's life.
His hands, they were not a frail beauty like Aya's--hands that called to be placed under a glass case and be looked upon with awe--they were wise, impulsive, clumsy, hot-blooded, compassionate and straightforward, the fact that they'd faced so many trials and tribulations only too apparent. Yohji...he loved these hands. These hands, that sought solace and comfort and called for someone to soothe away ugly calluses and kiss away the reality of a world that was so damn mean.
But Kudou Yohji did none of these things. He was no coward, let no one mistake his lack of action for cowardice--it was obvious Ken knew how he felt for him, and it was obvious that these feelings were returned...Nevertheless, there was a time for everything and now was a time when neither he nor Ken's feelings mattered very much. Soon, though, soon he would be able to hold those flower-watering, soccer ball-catching hands in his own and kiss away the tears that dripped and stained the palms.
Yohji looked up to find Ken staring at him. He gave the drooling schoolgirl her flowers and added a 'Have a nice day', accompanied by a winning smile. A tinkling sound marked the opening and closing of the door. The customer had left. The lanky blonde turned to Ken with a wink, "Have fun ogling me?" Instead of answering, the brunette blushed vibrantly before going back to his sweeping.
Yohji smiled. Soon enough. It didn't matter, that he couldn't voice his feelings out loud--they were just words. He'd uttered those sacred three words so many times without meaning it, to so many women...nameless and faceless people that seemed to blur together, so great were their importance. It didn't matter, that he couldn't say them to the one person that made him mean it. What they had was so much more than that, and he would not degrade it by trying to sum it up in three words.
Soon. And when it happened, they would grow wings and soar and break away from expectations and guilt and death. They would fly to a place where angels were more than fantasy and murder was but a distant nightmare. They would fly away, and their hands would be entwined. Those perfect hands.
~*~*~*~
Right. Ok. ^^; Bbai, r&r, please! Hope you enjoyed this little bit of plotlessness...!
--silence