Uhmm....yes, let me see... thoughts about HarukaxMichiru here, yes, that means lesbians. You no like-y, you no read-y. This is before they got together, just in case you would begin to wonder what the hell was going on post-reading. Flames on style, etc. etc. welcome. Flames about Bad horrible gay people! will be laughed at, printed out, and ceremoniously burned.I actually decided to write a more-than-400 words story, so this is just the first chapter.
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She felt lethargic. No, not just lethargic, she felt....heavy. Every time she made a motion, no matter how small, her body felt like lead. Tenoh Haruka ran a hand through her dirty blond hair, letting a small sigh escape her. It seemed that she always felt like this, now. Like she was dead, but still going on with her daily life. She had been laying on the dull tan couch for nearly an hour after waking.
It was all her fault.
Haruka scowled slightly. Kaioh Michiru was so completely confident. Whether she was just oblivious, or if she was laughing inside when she ignored all of the taller girl's hopeful, longing glances, Haruka didn't know. She wanted the blue-haired girl, she couldn't deny that, but there was no way. No way at all.
She didn't want to say that it was anything more than wanting her. Michiru was beautiful, anyone with eyes could see that. So it shouldn't have been anything more than physical attraction. But somehow, she could see herself telling the shorter girl she loved her. Of course, she could also picture herself telling her she hated her.
In her mind, she attempted to lay out reasons why the latter was far more feasible than the former.
Michiru was cocky. But why shouldn't she be? All the artistic accomplishments she had made were nothing to sneer at. Michiru was a perfectionist....no, she couldn't say that, she herself was a perfectionist even more. Michiru was....she couldn't think of any more. Not that she hadn't already reputed her own arguments against her.
In the middle of her thoughts, her stomach loudly reminded her that she had not yet eaten that day. She let out a soft sigh, rising from the nest of sheets and pillows she had prepared for herself on the couch. Sleeping in the cold, lifeless bedroom of her relatively new (and at that, rather cheap...) appartment was unnerving, so she had made herself a different the first night she arrived. At least the living room had windows.
As the blood rushed to her head, her vision became slightly obscurred, and she gripped the arm rest of the couch, growing dizzy. Good God, how long had she been sleeping there? She glanced silently at the garish red numbers on the digital clock, her sight clearing. Ten past noon. What a slug she had become.
Grumbling to herself, she made her way into the tiny excuse for a kitchen. When she had gotten her meal into the microwave, she glanced over at the phone. The tiny light on the answering machine alerted her that someone had left a message earlier that morning. Leaning on the grey formica counter with one arm, she pressed down the button to hear it.
Saturday, 11:37 A small mechanical voice announced the time the message had been recorded, then a human voice came on.
Hello...I'm sorry to call when you're out...this is Kaioh Michiru...
