A/N: Exactly a week. Since the last update, that is. And no inspiration to speak of. Therefore I am sorry if this chapter sounds a little forced, because it is. The basic idea came to me last night just before falling to sleep and had disappeared almost entirely in the morning. My ideas are cruel.
Anyway, read on and leave a review!
~*~*~*~*~
Aya POV
Chapter 8 : Oddities
'What would it feel like
To fall asleep
Under the setting sun;
Love beside you
The World around you?
What would it feel like
To wake up
Under a cloudless sky;
Love beside you
The World around you?'
There were two things I didn't believe when I read the text through. First was that I had actually written it. The second was that I had actually taken the effort and written it with my left hand in slow motion. If I had been sane I would just have laughed at the stupid idea that popped out from my head and demanded to be put down to paper. But no, either it was the painkillers or I really was becoming a softy. The text was there. I refuse to call it a poem, since it would insult the term 'poetry' in the worst way.
I sat on my bed and kept staring at the paper in my hands. Hand. The other one was pretty much useless at the moment, thanks to Yoji who I swore to despise eternally, forevermore. At this we shall forget certain things I might have said under some brief mental disorder the day before. Accepting an apology and forgiving aren't exactly the same thing, right?
I had used the word 'love' twice in the sad excuse of a poem I had written. Twice. Me. I never even spoke it out loud, let alone wrote it. Exception for certain pieces of lyricism I was asked and then paid to write, of course.
What was wrong with me nowadays, I could only wonder. It was as if a part of me I had desperately tried to keep under control and invisible had suddenly made itself visible and caused everything to get messed up in my head. Once I could put my finger on the cause of this, I would make sure it wouldn't do it ever again.
I crumpled up the paper the text was on and threw it into the direction of the trashcan. I decided to start practicing the move with my left hand too, since the paper fell far from its attempted target. Damn Yoji.
I sat up and the left the bed, elegantly hitting my right elbow to the bedpost in the process. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from yelling too loudly, and so keep my personal nurse, Omi, from running into the room and demanding what had happened. Ever since he had come back from school the day before, he had taken it as his duty to take care that I was not in pain and was otherwise all right. Believe me, it was annoying.
Sun shone outside. If I had been my typical self I would just have shrugged the fact off and went to someplace dark, but as mentioned, I wasn't. Anything would have been a nice place to go instead of having to stay in the same damned room to wait for the damned arm to heal properly.
Omi had finally yielded to let me work in the shop and to mind the cash register (Anything else would have been too hazardous to do.). I had accepted the job and successfully spent the morning behind the counter. Just the morning, that was. In the afternoon, I would have been able to stay in the shop, if there were no concerned high-school aged customers. They had literally driven me out of the shop and into my room.
So there I was, boring myself to death and wishing I could've done something instead of the nothing.
Maybe my boredom was the cause of the poetry-mocking piece of text. Yes, that had to be it. In order to do something I had allowed myself to write exactly what had come to mind, no matter how pathetic it was. I really was becoming a softy. No time and I would be caught smiling for no apparent reason. No, wait, that already happened.
Dammit.
My surroundings were making me act oddly.
I sighed deep enough to empty my lungs and walked out of the room. No matter how many screaming teenagers, I had to do something normal.
~
"Aya-kun!" Omi's exclamation was most likely supposed to sound surprised but I caught a hint of relief in it, probably because any extra-help was welcome. I nodded and the headed to the cash register to shoo Ken to help the other intact people.
During the next fifteen minutes I had to explain multiple times what had happened to my arm and to listen at least as many 'get well soon' s. I also had to roar to the brats either to buy something and stop poking my arm or leave the building, which as usual, only made them squeal and attach themselves more firmly to my being.
The worst of it was over after a time that felt like an eternity and I could finally breathe. The shop was supposed to be open for another hour and just to keep myself away from writing I offered to stay until that. After a flood of questions and worrying over the state of my arm Omi told me I could stay. Not that I would have obeyed if he had denied me to.
"I'm not letting you stay alone, though," Omi informed just as I was about to sigh for relief. Sometimes the kid worried a little too much for his own good. He would end up having gray hair in the age of twenty.
"Yoji can stay here," Omi said and with that he was off.
Perfect. Just perfect. Everything I needed anymore for the afternoon was Yoji's company. There had to be some damned, twisted scheme planned for me, otherwise, I'm quite sure, the day would have been just like any other, with nothing unusual.
But no, someone was planning to make me either to crack or to turn into a total ... weirdo.
Having no other choice but to accept the fact that a day that had begun badly would end badly, I sat down with a sigh of frustration.
"Do you have asthma?"
I turned, very slowly, to look at Yoji who had flipped a large flowerpot upside-down and was now sitting on it.
"No," I said slowly. The blonde was stupid; he needed to be spoken clearly to.
"Why do you sigh so much then?"
Now I just stared at Yoji. Was he trying to annoy me or was he serious, I couldn't tell. Either way, the question was stupid and didn't have a proper answer. I let it remain so.
"Are you still mad at me?" Yoji asked, his voice blank. He actually did sound pretty convincing; he had to have been practicing that tone.
"Yes, pretty much," I admitted and leaned back in my chair. I think Yoji's face fell at my comment.
"I though you forgave me."
I grinned to myself. Just a little, though, mind you. Wasn't this what I had just though about, few hours back? Now I had to think about it again. Earlier I had come to the conclusion that accepting an apology and forgiving were not the same thing and now I doubted if the thing really was so.
I had accepted Yoji's apology and with that I had accepted the fact that he had apologized and was sorry. I hadn't said that I had forgiven him. The conclusion was the same now as it had been earlier; forgiving and accepting an apology were not the same thing. They had just been made to sound like it.
"I accepted the apology," I told to Yoji, too. If he would demand further explanations he would receive my recent philosophy of the differences between two very similar concepts.
"That's the same thing," Yoji told me. I didn't pour him the whole explanation but shortly told him the basic idea. He stared at me as if I had a third eye or something to the same effect.
"How much painkillers have you taken?" he asked me. I had an urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I held it back. I would have been dragged to psychiatric ward at the instant if I had. Maybe the idea wasn't so bad; I had written a 'poem' where the word 'love' appeared two times, anyhow.
"I wrote a mush-poem from my own free will," I informed Yoji. This caused him stare at me like I had an extra-arm and two extra-eyes in my being.
"I repeat the previous question."
"One, I think. And that was several hours' back. My reaction to it was similar, though.
"To the painkiller or to the poem?"
Yoji didn't need an answer. He wasn't that stupid anyhow. I was thinking against my previous theories, I noticed. I had to grin at that, too. Not so little this time.
Yoji shook his head. "Who are you and what have you done to Aya?"
"Fujimiya Ran and nothing," I replied without actually thinking about it.
"Ran?"
I bit my lip. Idiot. Perfect idiot.
"Aya. I said Aya," I tried to cover but Yoji didn't accept it.
"No, you said Ran," he insisted and I felt like being caught in a mousetrap. "Is that what your real name is?"
I had no choice. Whatever greater force had forced me to do absolutely stupid things I wouldn't otherwise have done had once again driven me to a dead-end I had no escape from. I sighed and uttered a defeated "Yes."
"And you blurted it out just like that," Yoji said, as if I hadn't already noticed. He shook his head again. "You are not yourself, today."
I nodded in acceptance. " I completely agree."
~* TBC *~
Le Sigh. I had a completely different scene planned for the previous, but since I found another fic that had the same idea, I didn't want to 'steal' it. I think this one works just as well.
Revie~w! ^^
Anyway, read on and leave a review!
~*~*~*~*~
Aya POV
Chapter 8 : Oddities
'What would it feel like
To fall asleep
Under the setting sun;
Love beside you
The World around you?
What would it feel like
To wake up
Under a cloudless sky;
Love beside you
The World around you?'
There were two things I didn't believe when I read the text through. First was that I had actually written it. The second was that I had actually taken the effort and written it with my left hand in slow motion. If I had been sane I would just have laughed at the stupid idea that popped out from my head and demanded to be put down to paper. But no, either it was the painkillers or I really was becoming a softy. The text was there. I refuse to call it a poem, since it would insult the term 'poetry' in the worst way.
I sat on my bed and kept staring at the paper in my hands. Hand. The other one was pretty much useless at the moment, thanks to Yoji who I swore to despise eternally, forevermore. At this we shall forget certain things I might have said under some brief mental disorder the day before. Accepting an apology and forgiving aren't exactly the same thing, right?
I had used the word 'love' twice in the sad excuse of a poem I had written. Twice. Me. I never even spoke it out loud, let alone wrote it. Exception for certain pieces of lyricism I was asked and then paid to write, of course.
What was wrong with me nowadays, I could only wonder. It was as if a part of me I had desperately tried to keep under control and invisible had suddenly made itself visible and caused everything to get messed up in my head. Once I could put my finger on the cause of this, I would make sure it wouldn't do it ever again.
I crumpled up the paper the text was on and threw it into the direction of the trashcan. I decided to start practicing the move with my left hand too, since the paper fell far from its attempted target. Damn Yoji.
I sat up and the left the bed, elegantly hitting my right elbow to the bedpost in the process. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from yelling too loudly, and so keep my personal nurse, Omi, from running into the room and demanding what had happened. Ever since he had come back from school the day before, he had taken it as his duty to take care that I was not in pain and was otherwise all right. Believe me, it was annoying.
Sun shone outside. If I had been my typical self I would just have shrugged the fact off and went to someplace dark, but as mentioned, I wasn't. Anything would have been a nice place to go instead of having to stay in the same damned room to wait for the damned arm to heal properly.
Omi had finally yielded to let me work in the shop and to mind the cash register (Anything else would have been too hazardous to do.). I had accepted the job and successfully spent the morning behind the counter. Just the morning, that was. In the afternoon, I would have been able to stay in the shop, if there were no concerned high-school aged customers. They had literally driven me out of the shop and into my room.
So there I was, boring myself to death and wishing I could've done something instead of the nothing.
Maybe my boredom was the cause of the poetry-mocking piece of text. Yes, that had to be it. In order to do something I had allowed myself to write exactly what had come to mind, no matter how pathetic it was. I really was becoming a softy. No time and I would be caught smiling for no apparent reason. No, wait, that already happened.
Dammit.
My surroundings were making me act oddly.
I sighed deep enough to empty my lungs and walked out of the room. No matter how many screaming teenagers, I had to do something normal.
~
"Aya-kun!" Omi's exclamation was most likely supposed to sound surprised but I caught a hint of relief in it, probably because any extra-help was welcome. I nodded and the headed to the cash register to shoo Ken to help the other intact people.
During the next fifteen minutes I had to explain multiple times what had happened to my arm and to listen at least as many 'get well soon' s. I also had to roar to the brats either to buy something and stop poking my arm or leave the building, which as usual, only made them squeal and attach themselves more firmly to my being.
The worst of it was over after a time that felt like an eternity and I could finally breathe. The shop was supposed to be open for another hour and just to keep myself away from writing I offered to stay until that. After a flood of questions and worrying over the state of my arm Omi told me I could stay. Not that I would have obeyed if he had denied me to.
"I'm not letting you stay alone, though," Omi informed just as I was about to sigh for relief. Sometimes the kid worried a little too much for his own good. He would end up having gray hair in the age of twenty.
"Yoji can stay here," Omi said and with that he was off.
Perfect. Just perfect. Everything I needed anymore for the afternoon was Yoji's company. There had to be some damned, twisted scheme planned for me, otherwise, I'm quite sure, the day would have been just like any other, with nothing unusual.
But no, someone was planning to make me either to crack or to turn into a total ... weirdo.
Having no other choice but to accept the fact that a day that had begun badly would end badly, I sat down with a sigh of frustration.
"Do you have asthma?"
I turned, very slowly, to look at Yoji who had flipped a large flowerpot upside-down and was now sitting on it.
"No," I said slowly. The blonde was stupid; he needed to be spoken clearly to.
"Why do you sigh so much then?"
Now I just stared at Yoji. Was he trying to annoy me or was he serious, I couldn't tell. Either way, the question was stupid and didn't have a proper answer. I let it remain so.
"Are you still mad at me?" Yoji asked, his voice blank. He actually did sound pretty convincing; he had to have been practicing that tone.
"Yes, pretty much," I admitted and leaned back in my chair. I think Yoji's face fell at my comment.
"I though you forgave me."
I grinned to myself. Just a little, though, mind you. Wasn't this what I had just though about, few hours back? Now I had to think about it again. Earlier I had come to the conclusion that accepting an apology and forgiving were not the same thing and now I doubted if the thing really was so.
I had accepted Yoji's apology and with that I had accepted the fact that he had apologized and was sorry. I hadn't said that I had forgiven him. The conclusion was the same now as it had been earlier; forgiving and accepting an apology were not the same thing. They had just been made to sound like it.
"I accepted the apology," I told to Yoji, too. If he would demand further explanations he would receive my recent philosophy of the differences between two very similar concepts.
"That's the same thing," Yoji told me. I didn't pour him the whole explanation but shortly told him the basic idea. He stared at me as if I had a third eye or something to the same effect.
"How much painkillers have you taken?" he asked me. I had an urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I held it back. I would have been dragged to psychiatric ward at the instant if I had. Maybe the idea wasn't so bad; I had written a 'poem' where the word 'love' appeared two times, anyhow.
"I wrote a mush-poem from my own free will," I informed Yoji. This caused him stare at me like I had an extra-arm and two extra-eyes in my being.
"I repeat the previous question."
"One, I think. And that was several hours' back. My reaction to it was similar, though.
"To the painkiller or to the poem?"
Yoji didn't need an answer. He wasn't that stupid anyhow. I was thinking against my previous theories, I noticed. I had to grin at that, too. Not so little this time.
Yoji shook his head. "Who are you and what have you done to Aya?"
"Fujimiya Ran and nothing," I replied without actually thinking about it.
"Ran?"
I bit my lip. Idiot. Perfect idiot.
"Aya. I said Aya," I tried to cover but Yoji didn't accept it.
"No, you said Ran," he insisted and I felt like being caught in a mousetrap. "Is that what your real name is?"
I had no choice. Whatever greater force had forced me to do absolutely stupid things I wouldn't otherwise have done had once again driven me to a dead-end I had no escape from. I sighed and uttered a defeated "Yes."
"And you blurted it out just like that," Yoji said, as if I hadn't already noticed. He shook his head again. "You are not yourself, today."
I nodded in acceptance. " I completely agree."
~* TBC *~
Le Sigh. I had a completely different scene planned for the previous, but since I found another fic that had the same idea, I didn't want to 'steal' it. I think this one works just as well.
Revie~w! ^^