I'll admit, straight away, that this fic will seem very random, but it's all for the metaphorical value, etc. You'll thank me for it! : P
Anyway, as always, I had a huge amount of fun writing for this website, and can't wait until I begin my next project.
In this one-shot I make references to these songs:
'A Thousand Miles' by Vanessa Carlton
And
'5000 Miles' by Rie Fu
Just so nobody can sue my perfectly formed arse! (Been watching too much Casino Royale, sorry! : P)
I hope you enjoy reading this. :')
Feedback, as always, would be lovely! :'D
Spaces
"I wonder what it'd really be like to hop over five thousand miles, just to meet the one you love" I ponder, music dancing throughout my bedroom.
Even if it's only been a little while, when I see his smile; well, it's like Tom finally catching Jerry, or jumping out of the frying pan and into the fridge. When he looks at me with those beautifully honey eyes, I think of no other than the terrible thought of losing such a beauty – memorising every glint of light, that's, like magic, evaporating, undecided sunlight.
"This is a bit embarrassing to admit, even to you, but I think I want to kiss him" Just all of your innocent eyes.
"What if he'll only ever think of us as friends?"
"He did say he'd never love again, after Kari"
"What would he do, Wish? What would he do, if I said "I love you"?"
Short, black lines with paws at the bases, nearing, as if a pigeon lay in hiding; closer, closer, closer, pounce – just an old stuffed toy; a sigh of a purr. Bemused Dirty emeralds spy my own more lightly flared ones, and begin another advance, though this one, a meek, apprehensive animal print before the other.
"I have this dream; we're just dancing, dancing to some cheesy love song, and he pulls me close, his air releasing into my ear, words of "Takeru, with every touch, I feel only more in love with you"; is what I dream too much for even wishing to find a hope?
Gentlest weight not really registering a blink, then a pressure times two, like playing a piano, tap, tap, pushing, tap, tap, all over my lap; guiltily, a glance to me, narrow jewels enlarging with shadow covering – slow, gentle vibrations of a pleasured origin.
"You're not as bad as mum makes out, are you?" Not even a meow in response – just that steady purr.
Collapsing onto your side, chest exposed, invitation for a stroke, ears pointed curved vertical, tail loose, unwavering.
"I really do think I love him"
Scratch!
Red – claws embedded, as if climbing a tree trunk, pulled away reflex, torn skin – Red.
"What's gotten into you, eh?" Not angry, even laughing a little; just learned the hard way to never stroke a feline's inner torso, regardless of how welcoming he/she may seem.
Cat song ceased.
"I'm not angry, you know?" Scratch behind your ear, lone two fingers beneath your raised chin; all the affection reviving that benign chorus.
I can feel Davis' closeness, like sand, slipping through my hands like water, harbouring every tiniest hope of him calling me up, speaking a love he's always held for me. He'll be leaving soon, the timer's already begun, the starting gun's long shot – times almost up.
"So, should I tell him, or not?" An 'I have no idea – leave me alone to lick myself' meow followed almost straight away, quite rudely. No eye contact.
A reflex mirroring that of an Olympic gymnast, your green disappears; in the black softness; hairs flaring outward, like a newly born butterfly, you remain steady on my drawn up legs, almost upturning a distressed cross formation.
"I want to. I really do – it's just impossible" Those damn thoughts of nothing else than how we would be together, after only so many words.
Your nose pushing roughly against my cheek, wetness of scent, long whiskers tickling all of the area – pointedly feathered whisking. Maybe I should wait until he's faraway, for that might encourage my heart to leap out of chest, and say those long held back words.
It's all ridiculously simple; walking a thousand miles at night, walking fast downtown, while staring blankly ahead; all the while wondering if time would pass you by if you could fall into the sky. Or, similarly, how one would literally hop over five thousand miles from one continent to another, just by speaking words of love down some long distance phone line; it all just seems a little too simple – a little too easy – like all this is – it's just words.
But in the end, words, whether they're the ridiculous ones, the unbelievable ones, the meows, the untruthful words, unspent, unsaid, untold ones, and unheard words – sometimes, words – they're all we have.
"Probably about the same as hopping over one thousand six hundred and sixty six breathes divided by those five hundred and thirty three never worded words between my heart and lips.1257035647 – probably"
Love – it's always easier said in a song.