Author's Note: And we're back with pointless oneshots. Mind you, this is only to help get my brain turning continuously for writing again. It's not my best in my opinion but I'm trying. this was originally a oneshot I was going to post by the name of "Apple And Cinnamon",and I had been working on it for a very very long time, but I just hated it. It didn't feel... right.So I just rewrote it, and I like this much better. Anyway, enjoy the pointlessness.
EDIT 17/07/2012: You can now read this fan fiction in Russian. FFN member SpilerCaer asked to translate it, and, well… The translation has been done. The link is here (remove the spaces): tekkenseries . diary . ru / p178661876 . html
SLOW BURN
She slowly burnt him from the inside out.
His heart beat at double time whenever she passed him, until it felt as though the very pressure of the organ violently bashing against its protective, bone caging would crumble. It was as though his limbs were doused in acid. Put down the 'numb' analogy, they weren't even there,so he couldn't lift his hand and wave. His lips felt as though they were welded together, the slow, torturous burning preventing him from ever speaking.
She set his heart on fire, and fanned the flames, making them grow until he was swallowed whole by them. Once embers, they now raged like a wildfire. Once a fireplace in his small home, they grew out of control and grab the rafters, taunting them with licks of heat whilst dancing upon the floors. But that was part of her charm. She struck the match and left in place, before gallivanting away, like the horses that wandered the land.
One gentle touch, and then she slid away.
One angelic blessing, and then she ascended.
He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch back. He wanted to reach out and touch her world, and show her the influence she had on him. He wanted her to stay, and quell the fires inside. If his emotions embodied fire, though, then she was like the earth below their feet – or water, or both. Rooted to her beliefs and with a stone heart. Slippery between his fingers, but forever soothing and cold.
If she could put out the fires, then perhaps he could warm the water so to say. Ease his soul, and in turn, do the same. But he was a fool, because no no, she'd never look my way, let alone walk over this way; and why am I acting like such a lovesick child –and he was confused, looking at the earth with shaking hands, as though they were in shock from burns. It was killing him, and it was poisoning the best of him.
But he was begging for more.
It was a bittersweet story, one that would never be published. The story of how one woman could flip a hardened man with just one encounter, like flipping a shiny coin. The story of how he became everything he was against. The story of how the lone wolf, in an instant, had his world flipped upside down and shattered – how he reverted and became the sad puppy once more, whimpering for just one more caress, just one more acknowledgement.
How their eyes locked in the crowded room, putting them in suspended animation. Just staring, drinking in one another until it slowly burned their insides. And he wanted to go across the room and greet her, talk to her, learn her, knowher – but he would never get that chance. He would never get that chance, no matter how hard he hoped and wanted and wished. No matter how hard he put his life down for her for the small, trivial things. Hide the knives and brass knuckles, and protrude a solid, unmoving hand, only for one hi, how are you –but she would still gallop away, not willing to mingle with humans that could harm or slow her in her quest.
But she came back, but only once in that time. She slid by, her long, brown hair brushing against his sculpted, bare arm, sending his whole body alight amongst the forest of people. And indeed like water, like a stream,she poured away, but in the wrong direction – going against the flow instead of towards it, to stop the wildfires' slow burning; and Hwoarang really believed he would never see Julia again.