Between the Lines
By Digigirl
A/N: For Dorolla, friendships, and people who mask their feelings.
The cards are all nicely lined up on my desk, like little windows into different worlds. The pink
one is from Hikari, and it wishes me a happy birthday and many more. Takeru's is purple and blue-
it wishes much the same as the former. There's also Iori's, which is a light green and has a picture
of balloons.
The cards look so clean, so perfect - fresh from their stiff white envelopes with 'To Miyako' or
'Happy 15th Birthday!' written gracefully at the front. Inside is the thick black type with cheerful
poems or messages, and underneath is the sender's signature.
They're very pretty, very kind, very fake.
At the end of the desk is another card. It's made from yellow construction paper and has a hand-drawn
picture of me on the front, holding balloons. Above it reads, in red pencil crayon:
'To an awesome girl and friend'.
An awesome girl and friend, it says. ANAWESOMEGIRL. I pick it up and run my hands along the smooth
bracing, which is made with scarlet ribbon. Carefully turning the flap I can see the familiar printing,
carefully done in a childish sort of way.
'Miyako; i know it's your 15th birthday, and i wanted to buy you a card, but none of them were right.
So i just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me and to everyone else, and what a special person
you are. Thanks for being my friend, - Daisuke'
Yes, so very childish.
Yes, so very real.
Yes, so very Daisuke.
I smile in a sad sort of way, and set the card back on my desk in it's place. Everything in it's
order without hiding any parts, is what my parents always say.
Hiding.
Such an odd word, and it makes me sad to think my parents don't condone it. Not many people do though,
for that matter. But hiding is a part of all our lives. I hide all my emotions, I bury them way into my
soul and lock them there, then toss away the key. Then I cut out and paste on a smile, and everyone
says, "Happy 15th birthday, Miyako!" And then we all laugh and play games and eat cake.
Each and every one of us hiding behind that same false mask, which comes in so many different forms.
Like yellow cards.
I don't know what to so with myself, but I am getting up and putting on my shoes, then opening the door.
It is cool outside, cool and overcast with little spits of rain. I walk down the street, my arms
wrapped around my slender body, my violet bangs sticking delicately to my white forehead.
And then I see him coming down the street, hands shoved deep inside his pockets, wine-coloured eyes
focused on his beat up runners.
"Daisuke?" I ask hesitantly.
He stares up at me blearily, and I can see tears making little pathways down his scuffed cheeks. He
quickly wipes them away and puts on a false smile.
"Oh, hello, Miyako."
We stand there in the rain, like two fools with nowhere to go.
"I got your card." I finally say.
"Oh."
"I liked it, it was nice."
"That's good."
The silence pulses steadily between our hearts, and I suddenly have an urge to tightly hold on to the
younger boy.
Finally, Daisuke gives me a half-hearted grin.
"Well, I better be going."
"What's wrong?" I ask quietly, and he stares at me in an empty sort of way.
"Nothing." He finally says. I notice a cut over his left eyebrow, and several bruises on his skinny,
brown arms.
I nod to him, and moisten my lips. "Okay, see you later, then."
"You too, you too." He replies, then continues off down the street.
I watch him as he goes, his feet padding gently against the slick, wet sidewalk.
And I also go on my way, my mind void of any real thoughts. Just sort of a dizzying spin that consists
of rain, cards, and dark-haired fourteen-year olds named Daisuke.
- Fin -
By Digigirl
A/N: For Dorolla, friendships, and people who mask their feelings.
The cards are all nicely lined up on my desk, like little windows into different worlds. The pink
one is from Hikari, and it wishes me a happy birthday and many more. Takeru's is purple and blue-
it wishes much the same as the former. There's also Iori's, which is a light green and has a picture
of balloons.
The cards look so clean, so perfect - fresh from their stiff white envelopes with 'To Miyako' or
'Happy 15th Birthday!' written gracefully at the front. Inside is the thick black type with cheerful
poems or messages, and underneath is the sender's signature.
They're very pretty, very kind, very fake.
At the end of the desk is another card. It's made from yellow construction paper and has a hand-drawn
picture of me on the front, holding balloons. Above it reads, in red pencil crayon:
'To an awesome girl and friend'.
An awesome girl and friend, it says. ANAWESOMEGIRL. I pick it up and run my hands along the smooth
bracing, which is made with scarlet ribbon. Carefully turning the flap I can see the familiar printing,
carefully done in a childish sort of way.
'Miyako; i know it's your 15th birthday, and i wanted to buy you a card, but none of them were right.
So i just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me and to everyone else, and what a special person
you are. Thanks for being my friend, - Daisuke'
Yes, so very childish.
Yes, so very real.
Yes, so very Daisuke.
I smile in a sad sort of way, and set the card back on my desk in it's place. Everything in it's
order without hiding any parts, is what my parents always say.
Hiding.
Such an odd word, and it makes me sad to think my parents don't condone it. Not many people do though,
for that matter. But hiding is a part of all our lives. I hide all my emotions, I bury them way into my
soul and lock them there, then toss away the key. Then I cut out and paste on a smile, and everyone
says, "Happy 15th birthday, Miyako!" And then we all laugh and play games and eat cake.
Each and every one of us hiding behind that same false mask, which comes in so many different forms.
Like yellow cards.
I don't know what to so with myself, but I am getting up and putting on my shoes, then opening the door.
It is cool outside, cool and overcast with little spits of rain. I walk down the street, my arms
wrapped around my slender body, my violet bangs sticking delicately to my white forehead.
And then I see him coming down the street, hands shoved deep inside his pockets, wine-coloured eyes
focused on his beat up runners.
"Daisuke?" I ask hesitantly.
He stares up at me blearily, and I can see tears making little pathways down his scuffed cheeks. He
quickly wipes them away and puts on a false smile.
"Oh, hello, Miyako."
We stand there in the rain, like two fools with nowhere to go.
"I got your card." I finally say.
"Oh."
"I liked it, it was nice."
"That's good."
The silence pulses steadily between our hearts, and I suddenly have an urge to tightly hold on to the
younger boy.
Finally, Daisuke gives me a half-hearted grin.
"Well, I better be going."
"What's wrong?" I ask quietly, and he stares at me in an empty sort of way.
"Nothing." He finally says. I notice a cut over his left eyebrow, and several bruises on his skinny,
brown arms.
I nod to him, and moisten my lips. "Okay, see you later, then."
"You too, you too." He replies, then continues off down the street.
I watch him as he goes, his feet padding gently against the slick, wet sidewalk.
And I also go on my way, my mind void of any real thoughts. Just sort of a dizzying spin that consists
of rain, cards, and dark-haired fourteen-year olds named Daisuke.
- Fin -
