Notes: Okay, this isn't really a warning, just a note. This fic shows slight angst and is Omi-centric. No real spoilers, as far as I can recall. And... that's all I have to say. Reviews are greatly appreciated, as with all my work. As always explained, it helps me to figure out how goo or bad I am doing. ^^;
Everything Is Just Fine
-----------------------
The clock read 11:59 pm, the bright red bars of the digital display one of the few sources of light in the dark room that belonged to the youngest of Weiß. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Omi was staring down at the second source of light within the confines of his walls, a single candle that had been carefully placed in the center of a store-bought cupcake he'd picked up after school, on his way back to the Koneko, where he lived and worked. Or rather, lived and worked the identity that kept him safe, hiding the truth of his position within an assassin group. The group of Weiß, of which he was the manager, and the group that he lived with. And the group that too often seemed to forget him. Or at least disregard him.
Reflected in the furthest depths of his sapphire eyes was a sadness that few could ever given as token to the genki teen. The one who was always trying to keep everyone happy and working as a team was not ever expected, or allowed, to be depressed. Such was something that was just not done; it did not happen. Omi was, after all, always fine. He always said that he was fine, regardless of what the truth was. Even when he'd been on the verge of an emotional and mental breakdown from his own memories as Mamoru trying to resurface, and it had been clear that he was anything BUT okay, he had said that he was fine. Because he had learned something once, something he'd never forget. Whether or not he was fine was irrelevant, the world went on regardless. He still had a task to do, and responsibilities to fulfill, as manager of Weiß. And it was just far more efficient to be 'fine' than to be sad and depressed and know that everything was falling apart, rather than pretending that it was all okay.
Like the past and upcoming few days. It was February 28th, and it being not a leap year, Omi's own birthday did not technically exist. Yet, that did not matter, since no one else seemed to care. No, of course they didn't; they didn't have to. There was no February 29th this year, so Omi couldn't even turn eighteen, by all rights, so what was there to care about? Besides, everyone just KNEW that the biggest and most important thing going on at the moment was Youji's birthday, on March 3rd. Everyone knew, because the playboy wouldn't shut up about it. Especially because he'd planned a record ten dates for the one night, just to celebrate his date of birth. The day that the playboy had graced all females of this world with his presence. It made it sound like a holy day, instead of a regular, plain old birthday. Then again, may it WAS the former, for all the memorable things about it. how could anyone forget the playboy's birthday? If one tried, they'd be guilt tripped by the blonde into remembering it, and making up for it. It wasn't that Youji tried or was greedy, he just held a lot of emphasis to turning a year older. Surprising, really, considering that a man obsessed with his looks and charms should have feared aging, not welcomed it. But that was Youji.
So, regardless that his own birthday was coming up, Omi had been forgotten. And he was not okay, because of that. He was, in fact, quite sad about it. And the cupcake before him was a pitiful attempt to cheer himself up. Tell himself that HE could remember his own birthday, and was fine with celebrating it by himself. Remind himself that, yes, he was fine, since everyone expected that of him. He was perfectly fine. Had been perfectly fine when he was seventeen, would be perfectly fine while he was eighteen. Fine. Fine. Fine.
What a lie.
Sighing, Omi glanced at the clock, which had just emitted a single beep to announce that it was midnight. The one moment he could truly celebrate his birthday, between February 28th and March 1st. Leaning over his cupcake, he watched the candle flame flickering unsteadily in the still air for a moment, making a silent wish that, maybe, he could, for once, be truly okay and fine, as he always proclaimed. Parting his lips, he directed a soft breath to the flame, watching it die out under the assault.
There, he had made a wish and blown out his candle. Reaching to the side, the teen turned on his bedside lamp, flooding the shadowed room with light that it was unprepared for. Still holding sadness deep within them, his eyes fell on the simple gift wrapped box beside the cupcake, and the card that lay in an envelope beside it. His one gift; a present for the birthday boy from none other than the birthday boy. Having bought and wrapped it himself, he knew that all it contained was a little golden kitten pin, to pin to his jacket. Just a little trinket he had wanted since he was fourteen, a little kitten pin for himself. Now, four years later, he had finally got it as a gift. From himself.
Slender fingers gripped the envelope with his card in it, picking it up and looking at it. Another gift to himself, to accompany the true present. Just a little card, that he had signed. Something so that he could pretend that he mattered, and that his birthday did indeed exist. The card itself was actually quite cute; he knew that he'd love it. Had known that since he picked it out in the store and purchased it, lying to the cashier and saying that it was for his friend,. Another lie, just like being fine was. He was going to turn into a truthless monster at the rate he was going. One that smiled when it was sad, said it was fine when it was not, and pretended that it had friends who cared.
Looking down at the card, he frowned as he noticed a few damp spots on the paper. He ran his fingers over them, feeling the warmth that said that they were still new, but where from? The answer came a short second later, when another warm drop fell, this one landing on his hand. Inspecting it, he realized what it was. Nothing but a tear, from his own eyes. One that was being joined by others as his depression became overwhelming. Biting back a choked sound, he gently picked up his slightly smushed cupcake, present, and card and placed them on the bedside table before curling up and hugging his knee's to his chest. Using his arms as a pillow, he lay his head there and made no move to stop the tears from flowing.
No, he was not fine. Not at all.
- owari -
Author's Note:
Another piece I wrote late-night, when I couldn't sleep. I'm in the midst of debating continuing this fic. Additions are planning, and it would shift to shounen-ai I think. I just don't nkow if I should write more. ^^;
Everything Is Just Fine
-----------------------
The clock read 11:59 pm, the bright red bars of the digital display one of the few sources of light in the dark room that belonged to the youngest of Weiß. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Omi was staring down at the second source of light within the confines of his walls, a single candle that had been carefully placed in the center of a store-bought cupcake he'd picked up after school, on his way back to the Koneko, where he lived and worked. Or rather, lived and worked the identity that kept him safe, hiding the truth of his position within an assassin group. The group of Weiß, of which he was the manager, and the group that he lived with. And the group that too often seemed to forget him. Or at least disregard him.
Reflected in the furthest depths of his sapphire eyes was a sadness that few could ever given as token to the genki teen. The one who was always trying to keep everyone happy and working as a team was not ever expected, or allowed, to be depressed. Such was something that was just not done; it did not happen. Omi was, after all, always fine. He always said that he was fine, regardless of what the truth was. Even when he'd been on the verge of an emotional and mental breakdown from his own memories as Mamoru trying to resurface, and it had been clear that he was anything BUT okay, he had said that he was fine. Because he had learned something once, something he'd never forget. Whether or not he was fine was irrelevant, the world went on regardless. He still had a task to do, and responsibilities to fulfill, as manager of Weiß. And it was just far more efficient to be 'fine' than to be sad and depressed and know that everything was falling apart, rather than pretending that it was all okay.
Like the past and upcoming few days. It was February 28th, and it being not a leap year, Omi's own birthday did not technically exist. Yet, that did not matter, since no one else seemed to care. No, of course they didn't; they didn't have to. There was no February 29th this year, so Omi couldn't even turn eighteen, by all rights, so what was there to care about? Besides, everyone just KNEW that the biggest and most important thing going on at the moment was Youji's birthday, on March 3rd. Everyone knew, because the playboy wouldn't shut up about it. Especially because he'd planned a record ten dates for the one night, just to celebrate his date of birth. The day that the playboy had graced all females of this world with his presence. It made it sound like a holy day, instead of a regular, plain old birthday. Then again, may it WAS the former, for all the memorable things about it. how could anyone forget the playboy's birthday? If one tried, they'd be guilt tripped by the blonde into remembering it, and making up for it. It wasn't that Youji tried or was greedy, he just held a lot of emphasis to turning a year older. Surprising, really, considering that a man obsessed with his looks and charms should have feared aging, not welcomed it. But that was Youji.
So, regardless that his own birthday was coming up, Omi had been forgotten. And he was not okay, because of that. He was, in fact, quite sad about it. And the cupcake before him was a pitiful attempt to cheer himself up. Tell himself that HE could remember his own birthday, and was fine with celebrating it by himself. Remind himself that, yes, he was fine, since everyone expected that of him. He was perfectly fine. Had been perfectly fine when he was seventeen, would be perfectly fine while he was eighteen. Fine. Fine. Fine.
What a lie.
Sighing, Omi glanced at the clock, which had just emitted a single beep to announce that it was midnight. The one moment he could truly celebrate his birthday, between February 28th and March 1st. Leaning over his cupcake, he watched the candle flame flickering unsteadily in the still air for a moment, making a silent wish that, maybe, he could, for once, be truly okay and fine, as he always proclaimed. Parting his lips, he directed a soft breath to the flame, watching it die out under the assault.
There, he had made a wish and blown out his candle. Reaching to the side, the teen turned on his bedside lamp, flooding the shadowed room with light that it was unprepared for. Still holding sadness deep within them, his eyes fell on the simple gift wrapped box beside the cupcake, and the card that lay in an envelope beside it. His one gift; a present for the birthday boy from none other than the birthday boy. Having bought and wrapped it himself, he knew that all it contained was a little golden kitten pin, to pin to his jacket. Just a little trinket he had wanted since he was fourteen, a little kitten pin for himself. Now, four years later, he had finally got it as a gift. From himself.
Slender fingers gripped the envelope with his card in it, picking it up and looking at it. Another gift to himself, to accompany the true present. Just a little card, that he had signed. Something so that he could pretend that he mattered, and that his birthday did indeed exist. The card itself was actually quite cute; he knew that he'd love it. Had known that since he picked it out in the store and purchased it, lying to the cashier and saying that it was for his friend,. Another lie, just like being fine was. He was going to turn into a truthless monster at the rate he was going. One that smiled when it was sad, said it was fine when it was not, and pretended that it had friends who cared.
Looking down at the card, he frowned as he noticed a few damp spots on the paper. He ran his fingers over them, feeling the warmth that said that they were still new, but where from? The answer came a short second later, when another warm drop fell, this one landing on his hand. Inspecting it, he realized what it was. Nothing but a tear, from his own eyes. One that was being joined by others as his depression became overwhelming. Biting back a choked sound, he gently picked up his slightly smushed cupcake, present, and card and placed them on the bedside table before curling up and hugging his knee's to his chest. Using his arms as a pillow, he lay his head there and made no move to stop the tears from flowing.
No, he was not fine. Not at all.
- owari -
Author's Note:
Another piece I wrote late-night, when I couldn't sleep. I'm in the midst of debating continuing this fic. Additions are planning, and it would shift to shounen-ai I think. I just don't nkow if I should write more. ^^;