Memory
A Marmalade Boy short
by Jin Bennett (aiko@cephiro.com)
Marmalade Boy belongs to Yoshizumi Wataru and Ribon.
All hail the mangos. =P
Continuity: Based on the anime series timeline, roughly around episode 73 (I'm guessing ^^;;;). May contain spoilers for the end of the anime (and manga).
Quick AN (I promise!): The way Miki handled herself during the beginning of the "last crisis" in MB impressed me. She displayed a great deal of maturity and that, along with the pure angst 'n' fun ("Ore tachi wa... ore tachi wa...!" ^^;;) that was oozing from the last few episodes, moved me to write something. "Something" for lack of a better term. It didn't turn out the way it was supposed to. Shows you what happens when Jin sits down very late at night and just starts typing. Stupidity. =_=; This was written quite a while ago. Can you tell?
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The phone rang.
Miki stared at the phone blankly, fingering her newly cut hair for the tenth time that day. It rang twice before someone downstairs picked it up.
She didn't move, and leaned back further in her chair.
Her room was cleaner than it had ever been, her summer homework sat finished on her desk, she had already taken a bath, and dinner was an hour ago.
Maybe, she thought, she should sleep. The sun was only setting then, but there wasn't anything else to do. Writing in the exchange journal was an option, but she had no idea what to write in it. She felt empty.
She wondered, sometimes, if she had sealed away all of her true emotions when she closed the lid on that box and hid it in her drawer. All of their memories: the dialer, shirt, school medallion, toy ring, stained glass Christmas tree, music box, kappa dolls, and the wrapped ring, they were all in that box. When she closed the lid, her thoughts were of sealing away the pain.
Pain, however, became something she grew to yearn for.
It surprised her how easy it was to avoid touching that box when her heart and body screamed for it. Every day she opened that drawer, and each time she looked up towards the ceiling or at the wall above the chest of drawers as she took whatever she needed. If she closed it quickly enough, she could pretend it wasn't even there.
Pretending had become something of a talent or a hobby, or an obsession.
She couldn't remember the last time that she genuinely smiled. In truth, she could, but she wouldn't allow herself to imagine a time with him. If she did that, then all of her efforts would go to waste.
Every day, it was easier to smile and to laugh when she felt nothing. She laughed when others laughed, smiled when she thought it would appease Meiko, Ginta, or her parents and other friends. There was no longer any emotion, Miki didn't know if it was because she couldn't feel any or she wouldn't. She tried becoming a new person, her short hair and earrings attesting to the fact. Was this the only person she could become?
It surprised her, every day, that she didn't cease to function.
The phone rang again, this time ringing four times before someone picked it up.
She stood and shuffled to the bed. Sleep seemed like the only option, if she could claim any.
She heard Yu--Chiyako-mama calling from downstairs. The phone, apparently, was for her.
It was Meiko, and she made the normal inquiries about Miki's health. For Miki, summer break had been spent in her room every possible moment. Occasionally she would stir herself for food and usage of the facilities, otherwise it would take nothing short of dragging her by her arms to get her to leave her room, much less the house. Meiko visited, but Miki found it hard to find the same joy she could have found a month ago. It was hard to find joy in anything anymore.
How are you feeling about _that_? The question was asked gently, and despite Meiko's kind intentions, Miki felt a twinge of annoyance. She grasped onto the emotion with all her might.
Snappish replies to Meiko's mild questions and comments became accusations and indignations, as Miki held on to the only emotion she had felt for a few days. Meiko finally said good-bye quietly, and hung up the phone after saying that she would call later. Miki slammed the phone into the cradle before bursting into tears.
Throughout her sobbing, Miki felt the first glimmer of hope that she had felt in a long time.
Even with the box still tucked safely in the drawer, maybe she could still live after all.
A Marmalade Boy short
by Jin Bennett (aiko@cephiro.com)
Marmalade Boy belongs to Yoshizumi Wataru and Ribon.
All hail the mangos. =P
Continuity: Based on the anime series timeline, roughly around episode 73 (I'm guessing ^^;;;). May contain spoilers for the end of the anime (and manga).
Quick AN (I promise!): The way Miki handled herself during the beginning of the "last crisis" in MB impressed me. She displayed a great deal of maturity and that, along with the pure angst 'n' fun ("Ore tachi wa... ore tachi wa...!" ^^;;) that was oozing from the last few episodes, moved me to write something. "Something" for lack of a better term. It didn't turn out the way it was supposed to. Shows you what happens when Jin sits down very late at night and just starts typing. Stupidity. =_=; This was written quite a while ago. Can you tell?
------------------------------------------------
The phone rang.
Miki stared at the phone blankly, fingering her newly cut hair for the tenth time that day. It rang twice before someone downstairs picked it up.
She didn't move, and leaned back further in her chair.
Her room was cleaner than it had ever been, her summer homework sat finished on her desk, she had already taken a bath, and dinner was an hour ago.
Maybe, she thought, she should sleep. The sun was only setting then, but there wasn't anything else to do. Writing in the exchange journal was an option, but she had no idea what to write in it. She felt empty.
She wondered, sometimes, if she had sealed away all of her true emotions when she closed the lid on that box and hid it in her drawer. All of their memories: the dialer, shirt, school medallion, toy ring, stained glass Christmas tree, music box, kappa dolls, and the wrapped ring, they were all in that box. When she closed the lid, her thoughts were of sealing away the pain.
Pain, however, became something she grew to yearn for.
It surprised her how easy it was to avoid touching that box when her heart and body screamed for it. Every day she opened that drawer, and each time she looked up towards the ceiling or at the wall above the chest of drawers as she took whatever she needed. If she closed it quickly enough, she could pretend it wasn't even there.
Pretending had become something of a talent or a hobby, or an obsession.
She couldn't remember the last time that she genuinely smiled. In truth, she could, but she wouldn't allow herself to imagine a time with him. If she did that, then all of her efforts would go to waste.
Every day, it was easier to smile and to laugh when she felt nothing. She laughed when others laughed, smiled when she thought it would appease Meiko, Ginta, or her parents and other friends. There was no longer any emotion, Miki didn't know if it was because she couldn't feel any or she wouldn't. She tried becoming a new person, her short hair and earrings attesting to the fact. Was this the only person she could become?
It surprised her, every day, that she didn't cease to function.
The phone rang again, this time ringing four times before someone picked it up.
She stood and shuffled to the bed. Sleep seemed like the only option, if she could claim any.
She heard Yu--Chiyako-mama calling from downstairs. The phone, apparently, was for her.
It was Meiko, and she made the normal inquiries about Miki's health. For Miki, summer break had been spent in her room every possible moment. Occasionally she would stir herself for food and usage of the facilities, otherwise it would take nothing short of dragging her by her arms to get her to leave her room, much less the house. Meiko visited, but Miki found it hard to find the same joy she could have found a month ago. It was hard to find joy in anything anymore.
How are you feeling about _that_? The question was asked gently, and despite Meiko's kind intentions, Miki felt a twinge of annoyance. She grasped onto the emotion with all her might.
Snappish replies to Meiko's mild questions and comments became accusations and indignations, as Miki held on to the only emotion she had felt for a few days. Meiko finally said good-bye quietly, and hung up the phone after saying that she would call later. Miki slammed the phone into the cradle before bursting into tears.
Throughout her sobbing, Miki felt the first glimmer of hope that she had felt in a long time.
Even with the box still tucked safely in the drawer, maybe she could still live after all.