DOG WHISTLE
Part Two
How long shall this go on for? I dunno.
Onwards!
DOG WHISTLE
*
Despite everything, I always expected him to be like steel.
*
Daisuke was a cheerful child, one who was not prone to giving up. If he perchance scraped a knee, he would bounce back again; if he made a mistake, he'd simply move on and banish the fault to the shadowy realm of The Past. Especially now, there was a healthy ruddy glow in his toned cheeks and his eyes danced to look up at the deepest of navy blues-the sky in winter.
"Isn't it pretty, Ken? Eh, Ken?" The leader of the Digidestined nudged his companion with one swaddled elbow, barely managing to tear his eyes away from the giant expanse of sky out above them. "Who would've thought you could see so many stars from the city?" He laughed outloud, unaware he was compensating for the steady silence of the violet-eyed boy at his side on the street, a mere day away from Christmas eve.
Ken nodded once, slowly, and gave a small noise of assent. Snow trickled down from heaven above, dusting the city warm and white. Cars parked on the streets looked like sleeping animals, and their footsteps crunched and squeaked as they moved along. All in all, it was a restful evening. Everything in the world seemed collected and at peace with itself.
The snow continued to fall, even as Daisuke closed his mouth, watching the other boy with an expression that verged and trembled on the edge of plain concern. Daisuke knew only plain emotions.
"Ne, Ken?"
Ken grunted again. His head continued to hang itself down under the weight of his thoughts and a fine, silky curtain of the darkest hair hid the eyes Daisuke searched to meet. Daisuke, though, knew they were a brilliant violet. Like amethysts. The boys meandered down the street, side by side but not together.
*
Never to fail, never to fall.
His exterior was shiny and hard,
did he ruin
from the inside out?
*
They were sprawled over Ken's couch with the television flickering in front of them. Ken was whipping his ass at James Bond, 007, as was usual. Daisuke grunted as he tried a particularly effective super-move that seemed to require the use of twelve fingers and a photographic memory.
Who the fuck did those game designers think could do these moves anyway?
Daisuke swore softly and threw the controller down onto the carpet in disgust as his man was quite neatly aerated through the head by Ken's sniper. "Hey, but *you* won, ne?" The boy glanced casually at his friend reclined on the other end.
Nothing.
There was no triumph on Ken's eyes. They were as flat and as lifeless as a stagnant pond in the middle of a cold snap. Nothing stirred within them, not even a fish-like idea come to snap at the surface.
Daisuke, suddenly, swallowed violently.
Plain concern was winning out. What was wrong with his friend? He knew that Ken wasn't the cheeriest person in the world to begin with, but what gave? This wasn't like his friend at all, not even to gloat a little.
He wouldn't smile, dammit! Ken wouldn't SMILE!
Daisuke swallowed again, unsure of how to translate the peculiar twist in his chest into words, and instead looked back at the TV again. "We're buds." It wasn't quite a question.
Abruptly, Ken ripped his level gaze away from the television and the gore. "Yes. Of course, Dai-chan."
"Then you know. . ."Daisuke licked his lips nervously and rubbed his palm against his denim-clad knee. "You can talk to me whenever you want." God, he wanted to say more. Ask why Ken never wore short-sleeved shirts anymore, and his smiles were rarer and rarer in coming. There was a time, once, that Daisuke could make him smile. There was a time when *only* Daisuke could make him smile.
Daisuke was afraid, and the twist in his chest refused to die, even after Ken nodded, and slew another of his characters with an effortlessly played super-move.
*
Maybe
I'm just losing?
Losing my touch,
or losing you.
*
Part Two
How long shall this go on for? I dunno.
Onwards!
DOG WHISTLE
*
Despite everything, I always expected him to be like steel.
*
Daisuke was a cheerful child, one who was not prone to giving up. If he perchance scraped a knee, he would bounce back again; if he made a mistake, he'd simply move on and banish the fault to the shadowy realm of The Past. Especially now, there was a healthy ruddy glow in his toned cheeks and his eyes danced to look up at the deepest of navy blues-the sky in winter.
"Isn't it pretty, Ken? Eh, Ken?" The leader of the Digidestined nudged his companion with one swaddled elbow, barely managing to tear his eyes away from the giant expanse of sky out above them. "Who would've thought you could see so many stars from the city?" He laughed outloud, unaware he was compensating for the steady silence of the violet-eyed boy at his side on the street, a mere day away from Christmas eve.
Ken nodded once, slowly, and gave a small noise of assent. Snow trickled down from heaven above, dusting the city warm and white. Cars parked on the streets looked like sleeping animals, and their footsteps crunched and squeaked as they moved along. All in all, it was a restful evening. Everything in the world seemed collected and at peace with itself.
The snow continued to fall, even as Daisuke closed his mouth, watching the other boy with an expression that verged and trembled on the edge of plain concern. Daisuke knew only plain emotions.
"Ne, Ken?"
Ken grunted again. His head continued to hang itself down under the weight of his thoughts and a fine, silky curtain of the darkest hair hid the eyes Daisuke searched to meet. Daisuke, though, knew they were a brilliant violet. Like amethysts. The boys meandered down the street, side by side but not together.
*
Never to fail, never to fall.
His exterior was shiny and hard,
did he ruin
from the inside out?
*
They were sprawled over Ken's couch with the television flickering in front of them. Ken was whipping his ass at James Bond, 007, as was usual. Daisuke grunted as he tried a particularly effective super-move that seemed to require the use of twelve fingers and a photographic memory.
Who the fuck did those game designers think could do these moves anyway?
Daisuke swore softly and threw the controller down onto the carpet in disgust as his man was quite neatly aerated through the head by Ken's sniper. "Hey, but *you* won, ne?" The boy glanced casually at his friend reclined on the other end.
Nothing.
There was no triumph on Ken's eyes. They were as flat and as lifeless as a stagnant pond in the middle of a cold snap. Nothing stirred within them, not even a fish-like idea come to snap at the surface.
Daisuke, suddenly, swallowed violently.
Plain concern was winning out. What was wrong with his friend? He knew that Ken wasn't the cheeriest person in the world to begin with, but what gave? This wasn't like his friend at all, not even to gloat a little.
He wouldn't smile, dammit! Ken wouldn't SMILE!
Daisuke swallowed again, unsure of how to translate the peculiar twist in his chest into words, and instead looked back at the TV again. "We're buds." It wasn't quite a question.
Abruptly, Ken ripped his level gaze away from the television and the gore. "Yes. Of course, Dai-chan."
"Then you know. . ."Daisuke licked his lips nervously and rubbed his palm against his denim-clad knee. "You can talk to me whenever you want." God, he wanted to say more. Ask why Ken never wore short-sleeved shirts anymore, and his smiles were rarer and rarer in coming. There was a time, once, that Daisuke could make him smile. There was a time when *only* Daisuke could make him smile.
Daisuke was afraid, and the twist in his chest refused to die, even after Ken nodded, and slew another of his characters with an effortlessly played super-move.
*
Maybe
I'm just losing?
Losing my touch,
or losing you.
*
