So I was listening to a Joshua Bell CD and this very wonderful, if not odd song came on. It's my favorite on the album now (: Good album overall too. Anyway, it reminded me of Hibari somehow, so I wrote something about it and Hibari. (Yet another fic based off a song *sweatdrop*.)

Note that, as with any fic based off a song, the meaning of the song is interpreted by me. If you have a different interpretation of it, then that's fine, but this is my own perception and this is the fic about it.

The song is called "Left Hand Song". Look it up. It's addictive.

I don't own anything whatsoever. So there.

0o.o0o.o0

"Left Hand Song" – by Regina Spektor (in the more recent version, with Joshua Bell) – lyrics

Too much time spent
Trying to crawl into a hole,
And trying to crawl out of that hole.

I followed a path of a piece of bread, traveling
From one little sparrow's beak to another little sparrow's beak;
He picked it up, flew with it and then dropped it,
And this other one picked it up and flew with it again,
And then they broke it into pieces, ate it up and forgot that it ever existed.

They were still hungry at the end,
They were still hungry at the end.

I was inside my office at the time,
And I got real scared;
Thought I saw two snakes slithering,
Then I remembered snakes don't live in carpeted areas.

Too much time spent,
And I'm spent.

There is an old meatball wrapped inside of tinfoil,
Lying on the bottom shelf of our fridge,
A lesson in how fleeting preservation is.

0o.o0o.o0

Left Hands

The ribbon slid off her waist, coiled snakelike down to the floor. He took her kimono sleeve and slowly slid it down her shoulder as the rest of it fell open, and he could feel her skin against the silk. He buried one hand in her blonde hair, gripping her scalp like a bat clinging to the ceiling of a cave, and brought his lips to the corner of her jaw, pursed and hard, and slowly made his way down her neck. Her hands found their way under his shirt and stroked his back as she sighed happily.

Afterwards, he always hated the fact that no matter how long they stayed up, she was gone in the morning.

They always fell into this process. She seemed to randomly appear, and they never lasted too long before she disappeared again.

He denied the fact that he missed her when she was gone. He was never lonely, but he missed her. In the time he had that wasn't occupied by fighting or studying, or both, he was in his office on the second floor of the school, sitting in the windowsill, watching through the glass for something – maybe for her, maybe for something to occupy his mind, he didn't know – and was never to be disturbed by any self-respecting person. Kyoya Hibari had no idea of her name, her age, where she was from or anything. In fact, he was starting to consider the fact that she, this perfect girl, was all in his head. But the one thing he did know for sure was that he loved her more than anything.

That love was a quiet emotion, and even though it was in the back of his head, it was always there. Amidst the distractions his thoughts would sometimes stray to her, her and her short and wild yellow hair, curious dark eyes which never stayed put, frail frame, tantalizing curves and quiet, squeaky voice that turned into a shriek when he touched the right spot. And the way she dared to laugh at him that one time when he dropped that scoop of ice cream on his lap, and he was okay with it. And how she always walked on the curb or maybe across the top of a fence and kept her balance and refused to come down, and he wanted to try it too. And when she got him to look away for a second while she stole his wallet to buy "the cutest stuffed bear ever", but he caught her, took back the wallet and paid for it, himself. She wasn't a fighter, as most people would think he was compatible with. She had no guts in actuality – the girl was all bark and no bite, per se, and they both knew it, which was okay seeing as he provided enough "bite" for the both of them – but she was human. He had really found hope in her, hope that he wasn't all alone as the one most perfect human being on the face of the planet, because obviously anyone good enough to capture the heart of the untamable, infallible, godly Kyoya Hibari had to be pretty damn special. Together, he figured, they just had to make the most perfect couple on this side of heaven.

Kyoya had questioned his own humanity ever since he was a child. It had been installed in his mind somehow, sometime that he was perfect, flawless from the thin black hairs on the top of his head to his toes poised gracefully on the ground, and that no one was worthy of his greatness except God, Himself, and when Kyoya would get the chance someday to meet Him, he would then be equaled and find satisfaction. If he knew that, and he knew he was a human, why, then – if humans were, as he was told, naturally flawed creatures – was he perfect or human or whichever he was more of? Or, if he really was the impossible perfect human… was he the only one? That sure was a depressing thing to think about, being king among thieves, a saint among sinners, a beacon of light in an endless sea of darkness, doomed to walk among the filth of the world he was born into until death finally came to him. Of course, though, how could he be depressed if he was perfect? And wouldn't all that mean the other humans are scum and therefore disposable?

The whole thing made no sense, so he didn't think about it too much. In fact, he didn't really think about anything too much.

It all spawned his love for animals. Animals were pure and innocent and their simplicity and stupidity and natural beauty were close to perfection, if they had not already achieved it as he had. He came to love any animal just as much, or maybe even more, than himself. Especially those birds – could God have blessed the Earth with a more beautiful creature?

He was getting into the questions again.

Beyond the windowpane upon which he pressed his forehead, there was a pair of birds at play. They flitted through the air in calculated swings, diving toward a single point and when they were about to collide, they would miss and fly back up to continue their endeavors. A downy feather fell out of one of the bird's wings during one of the downswings. The other of those birds was Kyoya's own pet.

He turned his head away and looked up at the dirty white corner where the wall met the window, while keeping his head down. With each exhalation, he could feel his skin detach from his shirt, then rise back up.

The door to his office opened. He looked to the intruder with faint interest.

It was her. And it seemed funny to him that she had virtually not changed at all since they last saw each other. Her lips, stained lightly orange, were upturned in a smirk.

"Kyoya Hibari," she said, and he didn't move at it or anything.

He blinked lazily, his face straight as ever, as he looked over to the scene outside the window once again. The brown bird his pet was playing with was alone, and it was on a tree branch preening itself. He touched his bare left hand to the glass.

"Before anything else," he mumbled, "You have to answer this for me."

She tilted her head aside slightly, like a dog that just heard a foreign noise. "Yes?"

The bird outside stopped and looked at Kyoya with its beady black eyes. He pictured hers in his mind.

"What is your name?" he asked. He felt silly, saying those words. They had known each other for years, held conversations, been on dates, had sex a few times – he would even admit (with reluctance, of course) that he loved her – but he had no idea of her identity. None.

She twitched somewhat in a few places. "Bird."

Slowly, he turned his head towards her, and keeping the sober look eyed her thoroughly from top to bottom, regarding her yellow hair, her black eyes, her white kimono, her mismatched orange sandals and that she was twirling a single, tiny brown feather between her fingers.

"Huh."