Trying to get back into the mood of writing, so here's a fanfic dedicated to my next OTP
Hopefully you can figure out whose who.
Sorry if anything sounds odd. It's late and I'm too lazy to proof read. I may check over it in the morning.
I'm still fairly new to writing fics, so reviews would be very much appreciated!
Two bodies lay under a maze of sheets, one sleeping peacefully, the other alert and gazing off into the darkness of the room. Long, silken strands of hair sprawled out over the mattress, he picks up a portion, wrapping it around his fingers, playing with it. The quiet darkness makes him think. Looking at the hair, reflecting tiny rays of light coming from the lunar rock in the sky. Hair that shines, even when shrouded by black.
This hair, long hair. It always gets in the way. Not just in the way that one windy day one finds that there's a bundle of hair in one's mouth, but it holds a meaningless promise, something that reminds him of his failure everyday. To take a pair of scissors and run through this hair may be the biggest relief he could have.
Maybe it was a decade ago, when that boy came up to him. Yelling obnoxiously, asking who the hell he was. This kid gave the impression of a complete idiot. But he just wouldn't leave him alone. He was determined to get the other's attention. And although the other wouldn't admit it, he did it quite well. Such as on days, where students would spar, he watched as this, annoying brat defeated the worthless trash, one by one. Even to quickly defeat the other annoying brat, that other kid, the one who came to be a mafia boss. A career even he failed to be part off.
He shouted nonsense. He'd call the other's name, begging for a fight, but the other would always refuse. When he finally gave up, he begged for something else. This loud-mouth kid, asked to serve the other. This future Sword Emperor wished to be at the hand of another. He wanted to aid him, on his goal to be the boss of the prestigious mafia family. And he was willing to help him ever step of the way. He never would of thought that this guy could be even more than a friend.
His hand falls, blood soaks the ground. He claims that it was to understand more of the current Sword Emperor. But the other thinks differently. It was to prove to him, that he's willing to go to the extreme to reach one's goal. Would he do the same to reach the other's goal? Put his own at stake? Thoughts ran through his mind as the severed appendage lies on the ground. Afterwards, his limb would be bandaged, and he acts as if nothing happened. He would be the same, loud, trash, thats slowly moving into a place within his heart.
One more promise is made. He tells him, he refuses to cut his hair until he was made into mafia boss. Such a foolish promise, but he kept it. Over the time period, short spiked hair, grew longer. Grew long enough to get irritating. And when the time period seemed to freeze, the hair still grew. It grew into long, delicate strands that glided in the wind. He was keeping his promised. Determined to make this man into the head. His name was lost throughout the years, he was referred to as simply "Boss." Boss this, Boss that, sure he was the boss of this group of assassins. But he wasn't the boss that the other promised him he would be.
The promise was shattered, by a force uncontrollable. His right to the ring was lost to by a boy, ten years younger than him. Silvered strands were useless, there was no way he could be boss now.
But even now, nearly ten years after that event, he keeps his hair long. Why does he do it. The promise is pretty much empty now. He should just hack it all off. It should have been off long ago. It's still here, reminding him of the day where he new that he wouldn't be the prestigious boss of the prestigious mafia family.
He has to admit, that hair glows beautifully. It feels soothing against his skin. He loves running his fingers through the strands of hair. He loves watching it fall gracefully down the other's shoulders like a cascading waterfall.
Maybe this hair wasn't so bad after all.
A movement under the sheets, and darting silver eyes look directly at his face.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The pieces of hair falls out of his hands, and a foot comes in contact with the other's head.