no recognized pattern
Feb. 18th, 2019 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seleniasTitle: no recognized pattern
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou
Characters/pairing: Seiji/Shuuichi
Rating: G, off screen violence
Word Count: 989
Notes: Needs to be poked at some more / streamlined, then it's done.
-
The swing’s chains rattled against each other on the upward swing; for a second Seiji was airborne and weightless, than gravity caught him and he swung backwards into space, air blowing his hair forward. The sky swirled in fractals; clouds, sky, newly minted leaves. Summer was nice with the breeze, too hot otherwise. He envied the birds with wind under their wings who could leave at will, head for the river instead -- he thought about it too, sometimes.
“Are you done?” Natori asked.
Seiji bent the chains in his hands to slow himself, leaned forward and let himself slide out of the seat to land smoothly on his feet. He straightened his shirt, watched Natori scowl at empty air. The tail end of his school tie spilled out from his front pocket. Seiji was half tempted to reach out and tuck it back into place. He didn’t.
“You’re late, Shuuichi-san,” he said instead.
Natori groaned and hiked his duffel bag further up his shoulder. “I had to talk to a teacher.”
“Oh? You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“Why would I? It took ten minutes.”
Seiji grinned. “Charms are very effective for communicating tardiness. It’s bad taste to keep people waiting.”
Natori stared at him, red eyes dark in the shade of the trees, light spangling through the branches far above. Seiji thought he looked unsteady, like a chime in a window, twirling in circles with the breeze; his right hand never let go of the shoulder strap.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Seiji didn’t think he would.
“You make yourself an easy target, scowling like that.”
Natori glared at him from around his pinched fingers, securely holding his nose closed. Blood on the concrete turned brown and flaky in the heat -- Seiji stepped around it. There were, after all, many spells that could be used on it for malicious purposes against the owner. Best not to make the situation any worse.
“Jus’ my face,” Natori grumbled, eyes closed, and Seiji smiled. That iciness was a balm no one ever directed at him. What a relief.
He set his bag down beside him and unzipped the largest pocket, pulled out a black garment.
“Here. For your nose.”
Natori took the folded bundle wearily, then pressed it to his face, bowing over in his lap. Seiji noted the purple bruise along the back of his ear, the threads of purple under his skin from crushed vessels -- had someone boxed him first, to see what he would do? Interesting.
“Sorry,” Natori said weakly. He blindly moved his duffel bag from his lap to the bench, and Seiji could hear paper warping inside, a pencil case rattling, glass clinking. Ah. “I said I’d meet you here.”
“And here you are.” Seiji bent his head low, watched the curve of Natori's ear disappear under brass strands. “What are you apologizing for?”
Natori looked up at him, confused, then didn’t say anything at all.
Across the street, chimes blew in a shop window.
Seiji watched their shadows stretch into the asphalt of the street.
Kids jostled and laughed, elbows knocking off each other’s bags while they hurled water from a gardening hose like sputtering geysers, thumbs pressed over the stream. Seiji watched the rainbow unfold in the mist, felt the first of the over spray from the breeze, and quickly corrected his course and widened his berth. The storefronts decreased in number as he delved into the neighborhoods.
He wiped his mouth, tasted copper on his teeth. His hand ached, where bone scraped on bone. He’d been careless, too confident. Light spangled through fences, clouds swept by overhead. A nice day. He felt overly saturated -- giddy, almost -- like when the bow string bit into his wrist and made the skin pucker and jump.
He turned left down a narrow corridor beside overgrown plants, he went right -- emerged into a familiar street. Windows along all sides, laundry on balconies, apartment complexes -- the new side of town. A swing-set in a park, some world’s away, swing-set chains silver and white-washed, gleaming like light off the river.
He caught sight of tarnished brass on a bench not so far away and slowed his pace. Mistake.
Cicadas screamed and made the water sound dull and slow.
“I can’t believe you,” Natori grumbled at him. He spread Seiji’s hand flat under a public faucet, golden crown bent toward him, thumb smoothing away the redness. The other cradled his wrist; Seiji wondered if he had deliberately placed his thumb over the pulse. Either way, he allowed it to pass.
Seiji watched the corners of Natori’s mouth, considered the way his shoulder was slightly higher than his. “What are you taking responsibility for?”
“I’m not,” he snapped. “You’re just nosy, you know that?” Seji bowed his head so he couldn’t see the curl of his mouth.
“They didn’t think I could take them,” he said carefully. Natori didn’t acknowledge him. Their hands stayed under the water together. Any numbness from the cold was washed away by Natori’s fingers. The scrapes weren’t bad, but Natori’s definition seemed to differ.
“Sure showed them, huh?”
On the sidewalk, in the afternoon some blocks away, students steered clear of a harsh red stain on concrete.
Natori returned the shirt a week later, blood free.
Seiji unfolded the perfect lines and turned it around in his hands. It smelled clean and was soft, unlike the clothes the maids hung on the lines outside, starched by the breeze. A wrapped candy fell out of the chest pocket and landed by Seiji’s socked feet, green wrapping spreading crystalline light across his toes. The fan rattled in the window, plastic blades warped against the frame from too many years of use. It oscillated twice before he remembered to exhale.
He picked up the wrapper by a twisted end, peeled the plastic back, popped it in his mouth. The hard candy clacked against his teeth, sweet and slightly tart. Watermelon.
Unexpected, but nice.
He wondered what other things Natori might give him in time.
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou
Characters/pairing: Seiji/Shuuichi
Rating: G, off screen violence
Word Count: 989
Notes: Needs to be poked at some more / streamlined, then it's done.
-
The swing’s chains rattled against each other on the upward swing; for a second Seiji was airborne and weightless, than gravity caught him and he swung backwards into space, air blowing his hair forward. The sky swirled in fractals; clouds, sky, newly minted leaves. Summer was nice with the breeze, too hot otherwise. He envied the birds with wind under their wings who could leave at will, head for the river instead -- he thought about it too, sometimes.
“Are you done?” Natori asked.
Seiji bent the chains in his hands to slow himself, leaned forward and let himself slide out of the seat to land smoothly on his feet. He straightened his shirt, watched Natori scowl at empty air. The tail end of his school tie spilled out from his front pocket. Seiji was half tempted to reach out and tuck it back into place. He didn’t.
“You’re late, Shuuichi-san,” he said instead.
Natori groaned and hiked his duffel bag further up his shoulder. “I had to talk to a teacher.”
“Oh? You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“Why would I? It took ten minutes.”
Seiji grinned. “Charms are very effective for communicating tardiness. It’s bad taste to keep people waiting.”
Natori stared at him, red eyes dark in the shade of the trees, light spangling through the branches far above. Seiji thought he looked unsteady, like a chime in a window, twirling in circles with the breeze; his right hand never let go of the shoulder strap.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Seiji didn’t think he would.
“You make yourself an easy target, scowling like that.”
Natori glared at him from around his pinched fingers, securely holding his nose closed. Blood on the concrete turned brown and flaky in the heat -- Seiji stepped around it. There were, after all, many spells that could be used on it for malicious purposes against the owner. Best not to make the situation any worse.
“Jus’ my face,” Natori grumbled, eyes closed, and Seiji smiled. That iciness was a balm no one ever directed at him. What a relief.
He set his bag down beside him and unzipped the largest pocket, pulled out a black garment.
“Here. For your nose.”
Natori took the folded bundle wearily, then pressed it to his face, bowing over in his lap. Seiji noted the purple bruise along the back of his ear, the threads of purple under his skin from crushed vessels -- had someone boxed him first, to see what he would do? Interesting.
“Sorry,” Natori said weakly. He blindly moved his duffel bag from his lap to the bench, and Seiji could hear paper warping inside, a pencil case rattling, glass clinking. Ah. “I said I’d meet you here.”
“And here you are.” Seiji bent his head low, watched the curve of Natori's ear disappear under brass strands. “What are you apologizing for?”
Natori looked up at him, confused, then didn’t say anything at all.
Across the street, chimes blew in a shop window.
Seiji watched their shadows stretch into the asphalt of the street.
Kids jostled and laughed, elbows knocking off each other’s bags while they hurled water from a gardening hose like sputtering geysers, thumbs pressed over the stream. Seiji watched the rainbow unfold in the mist, felt the first of the over spray from the breeze, and quickly corrected his course and widened his berth. The storefronts decreased in number as he delved into the neighborhoods.
He wiped his mouth, tasted copper on his teeth. His hand ached, where bone scraped on bone. He’d been careless, too confident. Light spangled through fences, clouds swept by overhead. A nice day. He felt overly saturated -- giddy, almost -- like when the bow string bit into his wrist and made the skin pucker and jump.
He turned left down a narrow corridor beside overgrown plants, he went right -- emerged into a familiar street. Windows along all sides, laundry on balconies, apartment complexes -- the new side of town. A swing-set in a park, some world’s away, swing-set chains silver and white-washed, gleaming like light off the river.
He caught sight of tarnished brass on a bench not so far away and slowed his pace. Mistake.
Cicadas screamed and made the water sound dull and slow.
“I can’t believe you,” Natori grumbled at him. He spread Seiji’s hand flat under a public faucet, golden crown bent toward him, thumb smoothing away the redness. The other cradled his wrist; Seiji wondered if he had deliberately placed his thumb over the pulse. Either way, he allowed it to pass.
Seiji watched the corners of Natori’s mouth, considered the way his shoulder was slightly higher than his. “What are you taking responsibility for?”
“I’m not,” he snapped. “You’re just nosy, you know that?” Seji bowed his head so he couldn’t see the curl of his mouth.
“They didn’t think I could take them,” he said carefully. Natori didn’t acknowledge him. Their hands stayed under the water together. Any numbness from the cold was washed away by Natori’s fingers. The scrapes weren’t bad, but Natori’s definition seemed to differ.
“Sure showed them, huh?”
On the sidewalk, in the afternoon some blocks away, students steered clear of a harsh red stain on concrete.
Natori returned the shirt a week later, blood free.
Seiji unfolded the perfect lines and turned it around in his hands. It smelled clean and was soft, unlike the clothes the maids hung on the lines outside, starched by the breeze. A wrapped candy fell out of the chest pocket and landed by Seiji’s socked feet, green wrapping spreading crystalline light across his toes. The fan rattled in the window, plastic blades warped against the frame from too many years of use. It oscillated twice before he remembered to exhale.
He picked up the wrapper by a twisted end, peeled the plastic back, popped it in his mouth. The hard candy clacked against his teeth, sweet and slightly tart. Watermelon.
Unexpected, but nice.
He wondered what other things Natori might give him in time.
