Title: The Gravity in Your Eyes
Innocent Sin
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't actually own Gravitation ::hears someone faint from shock:: Er yeah…The characters of Gravitation belong to Maki Murakami I just control them in my head.
Simple description Shuichi's and Yuki's first meeting from Yuki's POV. Just something short and simple. -Sin
"Ah! Yuki-sama? The writer of 'Winter Breezes' am I right?" a little fan girl hopped up and down into my path practically gushing all over me. The sailor uniform she wore meant she could not have been past high school. I don't bother holding back the feelings of annoyance or boredom that must show on my face. In the silence she blushes deeply and looks at the floor. "I am sorry if I am being so abrupt, but I really enjoyed that book and...and...I was w-wondering when the next one would be out." She twisted her sailor skirt in between fingers forming little bundles of wrinkles and glancing up at me every few seconds.
"I have no idea when the next book will be out," I told her bluntly, lighting up a cigarette and beginning to walk away hoping she won't peruse the conversation. I looked back briefly; damnit, she's following me.
"W-well, um, I have to say it's an honor to meet you. I admire you a lot actually. I am t-trying to write myself, and I was wondering, um, where you got the strenght and honesty of your emotions to write from and...and--"
I looked at her over my sunglasses contemptuously, "My emotions?" I scoffed, "Basically, I tell the feelings the masses of teens, like yourself, want to feel and pretend exsist; regardless of the fact it actually possible to feel that way about someone," I smirk coldly, "Or in others words I am lying my ass off."
She looked as stunned as a deer in the middle of a road caught between two cars and I could see the flood of tears already forming in her large eyes. Disillusionment is a bitch isn't it? Since it looks like she won't run off sobbing, I saunter away. At least she isn't one of those dense admirers who find me so cool for being cruel. I know what question is already forming in her mind though: why the hell is Yuki Eiri such a bastard?
I don't hate everything in the world. In fact, I like plants...some of the time anyway. Frankly, I just know everything out there is out to get something from you, whether you want to give it over or not. I just happen to not be the giving type of person. Whether it's a smile, friendly chat, or a million dollars I don't care because once you give in, they all just want more from you. Forgive me for not pandering you; this is just how things are even if you won't admit it to yourself.
People are just going to take if you don't defend yourself and make it clear what's yours is yours and you are not handing it over. For me, it take too much energy to put it all into nice words so it comes out as is, without stumbling over the etiquette of polite society. Whatever I do, it's for my benefit alone, and if it benefits you too just think of it as a fluke. Why should I go out of my way to satisfy you when you only want things from me? There it all is. It's just that simple to me.
So here I am wandering at evening on the streets because daylight attracts enthusiast followers of my writing and because the dark breeze feels nice. A simple black suit with a burgundy dress shirt fit me adequately. I know I look damn good and I don't need any giddy fans to tell me so. Maybe at this time of night I won't run into anyone in the park, but before I could make the decision if I wanted to go to the park, I am already there. I sigh and take of the sunglasses, stuffing them in my coat pocket; it's just too black out to wear them now and I don't think anyone will recognize me in the darkness.
I light up another cigarette and inhale the smoke deeply. The heated smog warms my lungs and I exhale it gradually watching the gray cloud curl into the frosty night air. Out of the corner of my eye a piece of paper flies by and I instinctively reach out and catch it. Normally I would lose interest and let it go; in fact, normally I would have even bothered to retrieve it from the air's grasp. The childish handwriting seizes my attention for a moment and before I know it I am actually reading it. I can't lift my eyes until I finish all of the song, and part of me is taken aback at the disappointment I feel when I realize it's incomplete. Whoever wrote this obviously hasn't discovered the harshness of reality and that people exist to take from one another because real feelings, though disoriented and unorganized, shine through the immature hand writing.
I look up and meet honest violet eyes that sing the rest of the song to me silently, and I summon up a glare into place in my golden eyes. This young boy, the writer of this song with gravity in his eyes, is exactly the type of person I dislike intensely because he will never understand me. He'll sing this song from the bottom of his heart and ignore the truth. A furious desolation comes over me, and for a sinful moment I wish I were still like him.
"Is this your writing?" I ask serenely, though I know it is his. Only those eyes could write like this.
He stares at me with open fascination and I hate him for it. "Ah, yes," he answers still staring at me with those absorbing mauve eyes of his, his pink hair framing his round and pretty face.
"You shouldn't try to write love songs with your lack of skill," Spite makes the words leave me before I can just walk away. The way I live now I'll never be able to write like him no matter how much I'd try. I can't stand looking at his large surprised and hurt purple eyes. I let go of the paper over my shoulder and I know it's floating away behind me. I quickly start strolling past him, disappearing into the night. I don't have to see him again and probably won't, but those lyrics and the graivty of his eyes won't leave me, I know, not even if I wanted them to.
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I am not sure how realistic this POV sounds, but it's just an idea that struck me today. Feel free to drop me a line at yami_yume@hotmail.com or IM me at Xx Yuki Eiri xX.
Innocent Sin
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't actually own Gravitation ::hears someone faint from shock:: Er yeah…The characters of Gravitation belong to Maki Murakami I just control them in my head.
Simple description Shuichi's and Yuki's first meeting from Yuki's POV. Just something short and simple. -Sin
"Ah! Yuki-sama? The writer of 'Winter Breezes' am I right?" a little fan girl hopped up and down into my path practically gushing all over me. The sailor uniform she wore meant she could not have been past high school. I don't bother holding back the feelings of annoyance or boredom that must show on my face. In the silence she blushes deeply and looks at the floor. "I am sorry if I am being so abrupt, but I really enjoyed that book and...and...I was w-wondering when the next one would be out." She twisted her sailor skirt in between fingers forming little bundles of wrinkles and glancing up at me every few seconds.
"I have no idea when the next book will be out," I told her bluntly, lighting up a cigarette and beginning to walk away hoping she won't peruse the conversation. I looked back briefly; damnit, she's following me.
"W-well, um, I have to say it's an honor to meet you. I admire you a lot actually. I am t-trying to write myself, and I was wondering, um, where you got the strenght and honesty of your emotions to write from and...and--"
I looked at her over my sunglasses contemptuously, "My emotions?" I scoffed, "Basically, I tell the feelings the masses of teens, like yourself, want to feel and pretend exsist; regardless of the fact it actually possible to feel that way about someone," I smirk coldly, "Or in others words I am lying my ass off."
She looked as stunned as a deer in the middle of a road caught between two cars and I could see the flood of tears already forming in her large eyes. Disillusionment is a bitch isn't it? Since it looks like she won't run off sobbing, I saunter away. At least she isn't one of those dense admirers who find me so cool for being cruel. I know what question is already forming in her mind though: why the hell is Yuki Eiri such a bastard?
I don't hate everything in the world. In fact, I like plants...some of the time anyway. Frankly, I just know everything out there is out to get something from you, whether you want to give it over or not. I just happen to not be the giving type of person. Whether it's a smile, friendly chat, or a million dollars I don't care because once you give in, they all just want more from you. Forgive me for not pandering you; this is just how things are even if you won't admit it to yourself.
People are just going to take if you don't defend yourself and make it clear what's yours is yours and you are not handing it over. For me, it take too much energy to put it all into nice words so it comes out as is, without stumbling over the etiquette of polite society. Whatever I do, it's for my benefit alone, and if it benefits you too just think of it as a fluke. Why should I go out of my way to satisfy you when you only want things from me? There it all is. It's just that simple to me.
So here I am wandering at evening on the streets because daylight attracts enthusiast followers of my writing and because the dark breeze feels nice. A simple black suit with a burgundy dress shirt fit me adequately. I know I look damn good and I don't need any giddy fans to tell me so. Maybe at this time of night I won't run into anyone in the park, but before I could make the decision if I wanted to go to the park, I am already there. I sigh and take of the sunglasses, stuffing them in my coat pocket; it's just too black out to wear them now and I don't think anyone will recognize me in the darkness.
I light up another cigarette and inhale the smoke deeply. The heated smog warms my lungs and I exhale it gradually watching the gray cloud curl into the frosty night air. Out of the corner of my eye a piece of paper flies by and I instinctively reach out and catch it. Normally I would lose interest and let it go; in fact, normally I would have even bothered to retrieve it from the air's grasp. The childish handwriting seizes my attention for a moment and before I know it I am actually reading it. I can't lift my eyes until I finish all of the song, and part of me is taken aback at the disappointment I feel when I realize it's incomplete. Whoever wrote this obviously hasn't discovered the harshness of reality and that people exist to take from one another because real feelings, though disoriented and unorganized, shine through the immature hand writing.
I look up and meet honest violet eyes that sing the rest of the song to me silently, and I summon up a glare into place in my golden eyes. This young boy, the writer of this song with gravity in his eyes, is exactly the type of person I dislike intensely because he will never understand me. He'll sing this song from the bottom of his heart and ignore the truth. A furious desolation comes over me, and for a sinful moment I wish I were still like him.
"Is this your writing?" I ask serenely, though I know it is his. Only those eyes could write like this.
He stares at me with open fascination and I hate him for it. "Ah, yes," he answers still staring at me with those absorbing mauve eyes of his, his pink hair framing his round and pretty face.
"You shouldn't try to write love songs with your lack of skill," Spite makes the words leave me before I can just walk away. The way I live now I'll never be able to write like him no matter how much I'd try. I can't stand looking at his large surprised and hurt purple eyes. I let go of the paper over my shoulder and I know it's floating away behind me. I quickly start strolling past him, disappearing into the night. I don't have to see him again and probably won't, but those lyrics and the graivty of his eyes won't leave me, I know, not even if I wanted them to.
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I am not sure how realistic this POV sounds, but it's just an idea that struck me today. Feel free to drop me a line at yami_yume@hotmail.com or IM me at Xx Yuki Eiri xX.