Drabbles
By spheeris1
Pairings: Multiple…
~~~
[Silent]
Miki hates the sound of nothing.
Nothing has a way of being deafening to his delicate ears.
It throbs with loneliness. It pulses with words not spoken.
When the television is not on, the radio comes on. When the radio is off, the window is opened to let in the sound of traffic. When the window is closed, Miki reads aloud from his many many books.
Miki sometimes sits at the stoop and listens to conversations as they pass by. Miki sleeps with a clock under his pillow to drift away with the constant ticking.
[Tick, tock, tick, tock]
He has a hazy feeling of pink sheets billowing in a summer breeze, caressing his face...like nighttime air, whipping over his skin...his eyes clouded by tears, his lungs gasping for air...his ears straining to hear piano music in the distance...
[tick, tock, tick, tock]
Miki talks in his sleep. He knows this because a girlfriend once told him so. She said he said names in a foreign language. She said he sang songs. She said he would fall to the floor, sobbing and digging at his skin.
She accused him of being a junkie.
And Miki wonders if he is one, wonders if he once took something potent and dangerous to his body...wonders if he once ran with a wild crowd, wonders if he once played Russian Roulette with the tip of a sword instead of a gun.
[tick, tock, tick, tock]
~
[Something About Nothing]
Anthy wears glasses though she can see just fine without them. She can see very well.
Her eyes can study ants as they travel along a tree limb, can see the starched-white and seafoam-green of the girls uniforms from a great distance...oh yes...Anthy can see very well.
But she wears them just the same.
It is habit now, like so many other things.
To get up, to eat, to drink, to sleep.
All habitual. Not out of wanting to or caring to...just because she must. Anthy must get up from her fragrant bedsheets and leave behind a world of useless dreaming, leave that world for this world.
This world that is a mere fantasy.
Anthy can see the lies. They walk and talk and pretend.
Anthy can see the pain and Anthy can see the hope.
It hides in Utena's eyes when her Victor thinks no one is looking. It lurks in Akio's eyes when he watches the stars.
Anthy wonders if either one sees the same when they look at her.
~
[Trouble]
I saw your lips move, but I did not hear the words.
Maybe I didn't want to hear them.
Not as the sun slowly slipped from the sky, charring the blue
to burnt orange, leaving the world as we know in black.
Too perfect of a moment, too perfect and too real and too painful...
Your delicate hand holding onto my dangerous secret.
My love in your palm, swinging back and forth...trying to hypnotize the truth away from my heart.
My eyes cannot lie to you.
And you place your hand upon me and I feel like falling and you apply pressure and I wish my skin was bare and you take something from me...you take something *from* me...something I would have given to you if you had let me.
But you are just like trouble, just like a car crash.
If you can't steal it, it is not worth having and if you can't control it, you want to kill it.
I think my love is even stronger as my vision fades, watching you walk away with my heart for a weapon.
~
[Heroes Like Us]
Even as a child, Touga wanted something that was just out of his reach. That's what happens when you are used to getting everything.
Every toy, every dessert, every curfew stripped--parental laws so easy to break...but it was never enough.
'Never enough' becomes a running mantra in his brain, it beats in time with his pulse, it is his shadow.
Touga knows how to play.
Touga plays very well and Touga plays to win.
And when he looks in the mirror, Touga sees Victory wrapping strong arms about him. It makes Touga look even more handsome, if that were possible.
But sometimes...late at night...when Touga lets Victory slide in-between his sheets, lets Victory run deadly fingers over his pale body, lets Victory claim an unbearably common prize to gain...Touga feels hollow.
The sensations of lust and desire grow cold. The night is no longer a hotbed of passion, just a grave--just a coffin.
Kisses fragrant like roses, sickly sweet upon Touga's lips--and Touga returns them, languid and ghost-like...
This is the way to untouchable things, Touga thinks as he compares lavender to crimson on white cotton.
This is the way heroes and princes play with each other.
And Touga knows it must be done if he wants to be one of them.
~
[On the Floor]
I must've been dreaming.
Because I don't remember walking into that tiny little dorm-room or snaking my arm about your waist or pulling you against me....
In the recess of my brain, I heard you gasp--not from fear, not that at all. I heard bobby-pins hit the wooden floor, I heard zippers sliding down.
In the eyes of a child locked away, I could see wave upon wave of purple cascade down over flesh never seen before--my skin, your skin, our skin.
A world where red petals, soft as these lips I am kissing, fall down like rain.
A world where I have grown too much, too fast, too far--you are undoing me, you are opening me so very wide....
I woke up to find you on the floor, asleep and curled up on your side.
Those clips of gold that keep your mane up, I grip them in my fist.
~~~
END [for now…]
