Friday

Disclaimers: 'Clover' belongs to CLAMP.

Warnings and rants: Somewhat of a Gingetsu x Ran fic (more shounen-ai than yaoi, actually), this is really really screwed up... because... this is my first Clover fic. Not my first fic EVER, but my first Clover fic. o_o How do people write Clover fics? Is there a certain style? Format? .... ::is confused:: R&R is appreciated! ^__^ ehehehe...

Summary: A dabble in the day of the lives of the people in a manga of CLAMP's called Clover. ||¬_¬ did that make any sense at all? Takes place after books 1&2. This is my spec of the day Gingetsu finally saved up enough money for his 'retirement...' and ... retires.

Radishface

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[ 12:00 AM ]

Ran was still up then. Wandering around, doing something out there, maybe making tea, perhaps he was watching over the bird.

Gingetsu sat at his desk, staring blankly at the computer screen, knowing what he was supposed to write about but not knowing. He needed to write a clearance form for some deputy's actions so he wouldn't have to be sent to court.

He could hear the soft sounds of Ran's slippers moving across the tiles in the kitchen, and lost it as the hum of the computer suddenly surged, and then it went into sleep mode. He had ignored it for much too long. Fifteen minutes was the time, wasn't it? Fifteen minutes until the screen turned black.

It seemed so. He'd been sitting there, hands poised above the keyboard, face expressionless, like that for about fifteen minutes.

Tomorrow.

Now was tomorrow, he thought, as right now was tomorrow. It was midnight. But in a few more hours, he'd get there, he'd get there, to the Parliament, and then--

He'd be free, maybe. Maybe he'd never have to worry about it again. Going back there, feeling the starch of the collar against his neck, the heaviness of the coat and the buckles and the medals and ribbons which were all going to be thrown away.

What are you saving your money for?

He pressed on a key, any random key, and the screen blinked back to life, and the humming of the computer recommenced, loud as ever. It seemed to fill the room, and he wished he could play music, play her music, blast it out for the entire world to hear.

In your arms

But it was still tomorrow. He wouldn't be able to sleep. Just think. Tomorrow, tomorrow.

I will be reborn

It was almost five years.

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