Summary: AU It was meant to be another day. Just another ordinary day. Yet, Akihiko had never witnessed such an ordinary yet remarkable event. One where a certain blue-haired man stood there, in the middle of the everything, weeping droningly. Just like the rain was at that moment. (AkihikoxMinato)
A/N: I was bored. Sitting around in an empty house, staring at beautifully taken photographs of lovely cosplayers. Then I felt the need to take random photographs around the house (in particular, a bowl of sliced red-orange carrots which I happily devoured for breakfast) but the camera went missing. So instead, I opt to do schoolwork. However, after reading An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow by Les Murray (lovely poem, read it!), I felt it necessary for these lazy fingers of mine to type up a little something to get myself back into writing. So voila, a little P3 fic (a sad, poor excuse of disgusting FLUFF) especially dedicated to Koshi Noriko – who's currently in a very P3 mood and devotedly loves MinaxAki as much as I do. And MS, whom I currently feel sporadic affections for. And the ever loved mrsFoon – who is out to snatch my heart.
Many thanks to Gackt for his array of beautiful songs, in particular SaikaiStory, as they helped me picture the scene and write it. Ooh, and Michiyuki by Hikida Kaori (Loveless ED). It's a lovely song. A perfect BMG to read this fic with.
Disclaimer: The characters and settings borrowed and used for this fic purely belongs to Atlus.
- (e x t r a) o r dI n ar y –
By s u I k a's w I n d o f t h e c e l e s t I a l
It was meant to be another day. Just another ordinary day. One that consists of the common hustle and bustle down way-too-small streets of Port Island Station. The click-clack of shoes, the droning of trains, the rustles of thick coats, the slight sways of flourished umbrellas, the peppering of occasional phone rings, the loud murmurs of people.
Ordinary. Nothing drastic.
Just ordinary.
Akihiko adjusted his coat, tugging his warm red scarf snugly under his chin. He glanced up absentmindedly, grey eyes taking in the sight of the vast expanse of equally grey skies.
A plop of a raindrop had fallen onto his cheek, soon to be followed by several more. A light torrential shower.
A small sigh – a misty puff of air dispersed.
It was an ordinary day. Just another ordinary day.
Idly shrugging his shoulders for no particular reason whatsoever, the young man shuffled forward. Slowly was he carried away by the sea of hastening pedestrians who unhurriedly pushed forward, forcing their bodies through the exit of the train station and out into the cramped busy square. Akihiko shoved his gloved hands into the confines of his coat pockets, deft fingers burying themselves into the warm folds. He languidly chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders hunched forward slightly into a jaded slouch.
Step. Step. Step.
Ordinary.
Step. Step. Step.
Simply ordinary.
The surfacing of a frown.
It was tedious.
Step. Step. Halt.
The rain continued to fall.
Patter. Patter. Patter. Patter.
Halt.
Murmur. Murmur. Murmur.
"What's this?"
"There, there. Do you see? Can you see? There. In the middle of the square."
"What on earth…?"
"What? What? What is it? A street performance?"
"An accident?"
"A film shoot?"
"Hey, what's the hold up? What's all the commotion about?"
"Look, look. Can't you see him? A fellow. There's a fellow crying down there. Look, no one can stop him."
Murmurs of wonderment.
Murmurs of disbelief.
Akihiko ceased his steps and looked over the railings of the station, down towards the flowerbeds. What is it? What's going on? Soon enough, leather loafers started to make their way down the stairs, down towards the centre of the square. The man shuffled forward, smoothly making his way around captivated onlookers who watched the scene in morbid fascination. A spark of mild interest had ignited behind steely grey eyes.
A guy?
Sure enough there was one, standing the middle of the square itself. Head tilted down towards the pavement, his startling blue hair was appealingly plastered to the sides of his pale androgynous – more doll-like, in actual fact – face as the light shower of rain continued to patter down upon his startlingly willow frame. Impassive half-lidded eyes that were cast downwards stared in lacklustre as tears flowed down, staining those pale refine cheeks with trails of grey-black. The young man stood there, jaw set tautly as shapely lips were firmly drawn together – to prevent audible sobbing perhaps. His pale fingers were tightly wound around the hem of his flamboyant costume of elegant blue, gold buttons and white frills, and knee-length leather boots – the sensational costume clinging to his svelte figure as the rain continued to plummet on him.
There was no grimacing, no beating one's chest in sorrow, no distressed howling, no thwarted expressions, no violent sobs to shudder that frail body. It was just silent crying. One would be fooled into thinking those tears were simply raindrops, if it were not for those distinguishable streaks of eyeliner.
Akihiko stopped and appraised the stunning young man before him in astonishment, taking in the outrageously colourful – beautiful – being before him. Unwittingly, like those around himself, he was drawn to this male by some unknown force. Like innocent children to a rainbow.
It was like watching a mannequin cry.
It was captivating.
It was extraordinary.
"Oh wow."
"A cosplayer? In Port Island Station? For real?"
"He's beautiful."
"Why is he crying? Did something happen?"
"Is he foreign?"
"Hn. What is he, a girl? Crying in a place like this? How disgraceful."
"Should we comfort him?"
"Don't just stand there. Somebody stop him."
Grey overcoats cautiously stepped forward, reluctant hands reaching out to console the young man.
It was fruitless. For some peculiar reason, the weeping youth was unapproachable. It was as if a barrierhad been constructed around him, quietly and fiercely lashing out at others to cause them to withdraw in awe. And then almost suddenly, the young man stood up straight and reclined his head back, almost proudly, flaunting those grievous tears he unashamedly shed. Long obscuring blue bangs swayed back away from his face, allowing his fine features to be kissed by the droplets of rain.
Tears and raindrops trickled down that slender neck, into striking blue locks, across moist cupid-bow lips.
There was an increase in the murmurs of awe, in the murmurs of rebuke. Hands were raised to lips in shock, hands were held to sneering lips in disgust.
"Unbelievable."
"Unacceptable."
Akihiko drew his hands out of his pockets and removed his leather gloves, simultaneously tucking it away into the confines of his coat.
"How ordinary."
Without a second thought, he boldly stepped forward – ignoring those cries of outrage and disbelief, disregarding those hands that attempted to pull him back to safety, breaching and breaking through that unapproachable daunting blockade which had been erected by the other, idly noticing the vague look of utter surprise upon the doll's impassive face – and enfolded the blue-haired man into an embrace.
There was a collision of damp material. A clash of warm bodies – unknowingly seeking, seeking, seeking. There was a gentle sway of wet blue and silver locks, the flurry of a bright red scarf and blue coattails, the awkward steadiness of leather boots. Suddenly, the grey, grey people; the grey, grey buildings; the grey, grey skies; the grey, grey world had dispersed, blurred and faded into nonentity. At that moment then, it was just them. Only them.
The rain continued to fall.
Pause.
Breathe.
Patter. Patter. Patter. Patter.
A startled gasp. A stiffening of sinewy shoulders. The beginnings of resistance.
Akihiko merely drew back a little and closely looked at the youth's doll-like face. Silently, he appraised those vacant blue-grey eyes, the curvature of that flawless slender nose, those kohl-stained cheekbones, those shapely pale-pink lips. Absentmindedly he then raised his cool fingers to the other's wet face, wiping away those forlorn grey-black tears from kohl-smudged eyes.
Patter. Patter. Patter. Patter.
The blue-haired man peered through his obscuring blue bangs, blue-grey eyes gazed up at the other male in a sense of aimlessness and subliminal distress. His pale lips pursed, parted and pursed tautly yet once again. Without word, he then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the taller man's chest, shoulders slumped in defeat. Succumbing to the man's warmth.
To accept one's solace.
It was an ordinary thing to do.
Tucking the youth's head beneath his chin (there was a faint, delicate scent of mint and soda-pop), Akihiko merely held the younger man close to him and gazed up at the grey, grey skies. Relishing the feel of refreshing raindrops cleansing and cooling his face, of those arms that shyly clinched his abdomen.
He closed his eyes.
There were outcries of reprimand and astonishment.
There was low droning, the sounds of nearby trains.
There were faint mumbles, of speech and crashes from within the nearby cinema.
The rain continued to fall.
Patter. Patter. Patter. Patter.
Yes.
It was just another ordinary day.
A/N: Yes. Minato is a cosplayer who happens to be wearing something similar to Wolfram's (Kyo Kara Maoh!) or Orpherus's (Meine Liebe: Wieder) outfit. Why this type of outfit? I don't know. I thought Minato would look quite good in military uniform. Either that, or he's just wearing some flamboyant costume from some anime that's broadcasted in the P3 world. I did think of Featherman R (the show that is broadcast every Sunday) but…no. The mere thought of Minato decked out in a power-suit (complete with floaty cape) is just too funny.