It was a story about fairy tales. Or whatever.
Was it merit at all now that the bondage has broken it didn't occur at the eccentric bore sitting by the azure bays of Kanagawa. Much in this misery is fear that lurks in the shadows of his psyche and rummaging for another victim. Solitude. He feared the phenomenon that arose from the philosophies of Nietzsche; that man is undoubtedly solitary if not overshadowed by the haze of anguish and meaninglessness in life, or was it Schopenhauer who thought of that?
Kiminobu Kogure knew too well the activity that has been hypothesizing his sadness; too old of a concept for a boy but brackish tasted winds riddled at his face. Rising above sadness his wake perception collided and felt low.
How obtuse was he to assume!
He was average, a boredom to those whose concept of splendor is measured by mysterious persona, refined tresses and velvety yet robust flesh advocated by the intellectuals of orthodox thinking. Conformity. And yet he still assumed that Mitsui would love him for all that he is, for all the insipidness that he is; he was blinded by this mere assumption he declared to be a faithful certainty.
Convictions are rather enemies of truth than lies (1).
Kogure is converting ninety's Vash-into-Knives. He thought that life was about the high calibers of virtue that can kill all the evils in this world like machineguns giving out everything from love; it was enough to realize this but the eccentric bore took turns on his thought. Life is no fairy tale book where happiness is magic's touch away; life is not a book where you can look over the appendix to cheat.
Yet together they seemed perfect were they? Gentle and rough, yin and yang to be dramatic; but Kogure understood it was another cliché from hackneyed basis for romantic love stories. How could a fine lad fall head over heels to a gentle monotony like him?
"It's not to compromise; it's out of sight,"
Kogure looked up.
Hisashi Mitsui swore to the defunct skies that wherever the russet-eyed may be he must be well. The former MVP hoped and almost prayed for the other's emotional health though it wasn't long ago when he noticed a growing symptom in Kogure, which was a process of struggle against neurosis. A swift body language and he swiveled to turn away from the sleeping fox beside him. He was lunatic in guilt.
It all transpired some months ago when he took in the yet most profound and painful knowledge he reflected in his lifetime: that he does not deserve such chaste creature as Kogure. He attempted cheating on life by depending on Kogure; he thought that fairy tales come true and with magic's touch going back to the good life was as easy as having a cup of tea. It all seemed preposterous for the admired rough Mitsui yet he still believed; he believed that redemption comes from the virtues highly of a caliber, that salvation was an inch away from acceptance and compassion, that life is torn only between delinquency and nobility.
Everything is possible (2).
Hisashi Mitsui was turning millennium's Tori Amos' Mary; he thought that dark life is illuminated awake by untainted existence. Mitsui turned immature to further enrage the russet-eyed and thus break-up with him; promiscuity was only a pinch in the cheek after all. Conspiring with Kaede he polluted himself further and entered the realms of lust that fostered intimacy by the way – and it's all good, at least.
"It's out of sight,"
Akira Sendoh repeated again for the coffee-eyed to hear. A smile crept popular on his face yet the other didn't care and wiped his face away instead. It was already dark and the waters looked overcast from some unknown reason. The moon shed light but it wasn't appreciated, Kogure fixing himself up and preparing to leave too.
"What can a stoic do to make me stir anyhow?" he whispered, but it all appeared dreamy at the chocolate-eyed.
Sendoh backed away to find empty spaces for his dejected offer for company. He was known to be a façade of a jester, his repute a phobic to boredom; the spike-haired was known to be a shepard of exquisiteness that boasts basketball talent and aptitude that melt women and men alike with the most popular smile yet. Sendoh was known to be the prince of deceptive beauty and Kogure knew of it.
"I'm sorry; t'was only to stop your cries."
"You don't even care. How could you stop me?"
"Look, I'm sorry. I wish no bitterness but I've got no sway on that sure,"
"Good you know that."
"You're sick?"
Silence. Kogure could only chuckle at the ire replaced by awkward amusement; the spike-haired on the other hand dropped a sweat with a quizzical look and another smile crept on his face and this made the chocolate-eyed nonchalant again for some reminiscing reasons.
"Are you?"
"No; but Uozumi is. I'm threading to his house."
"Well you better not make your teammate wait."
"Kiminobu Kogure right?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't seem to be him," the lad by then walked and indeed threaded through the evening, slipping away at the asphalt roads of Kanagawa. Winds fluttered cold at Kogure and flickered his brown tresses in the struggle of finding meaning; he could only brush it back and went the opposite direction then.
Notes: Quotes, (1) from Nietzsche; (2) from Sartre as regards to existentialism; Vash and Knives are from Trigun. Tori Amos' latest single is "Mary".