Author: Kyoko Kasshu Minamino PM
A cute little TerryMax drabble.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Humor - Words: 433 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 2 - Published: 10-05-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3184666
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Yes, this is really short. I promise to work on On the Catwalk AGAIN and Here's Your Letter this weekend. I have midterms. They kill me. (head explodes)
Anyway, I wrote this because I was flipping through my AP Lit book and saw it and thought "OMG that is SO Max". Yaay for lit relating to Batman Beyond!
Btw, I DO NOT OWN THIS POEM. It was written by Jane Kenyon. Enjoy.
He doesn't know.
It's silly. Juvenile, even. Simple. Pathetic. It comes and goes like the tide on a shore; rushing in and washing over her from head to toe, then receding just as quickly as it came, leaving her cold and empty.
"D'you think it'll need stitches?" Terry's voice comes out in a hiss as she presses the gauze to the cut on his back, to the left of his right shoulder blade. The alcohol burns like hell on knife wounds. Max shakes her head.
"Probably not. I'd advise you against doing backflips any time soon, though." She replies mildly, shifting around in the First-Aid kit on her lap for an Ace bandage. Tonight, he was lucky. The incident wasn't that bad and he'd only gotten a cut. But it wouldn't always be like that. Just last week she'd walked into the cold darkness of the Cave and saw him on a breathing machine. It had brought tears to her eyes. Terry. Her best friend. Her darkest secret.
The bandage goes on easy and she tosses the bloody cloth in a waste basket near her nightstand, closing the kit.
"Thanks," he says, turning and grinning at her. She returns it.
He stands and grabs his shirt from off the bed and begins to pull it on. Max suddenly finds herself remembering a poem they read in AP Literature earlier that day.
The shirt touches his neck
And smooths over his back.
It slides down his sides.
It even goes down below his belt—
Down into his pants.
Speechless, she waves and sinks back against the pillow, the image of his sculpted back still fresh in her mind. Lucky shirt.
He doesn't know.
Yes, I know it's abysmally short, but work with me here. I thought the poem was cute and fitted her so well. I'm pretty sure this won't be continued, but please review and let me know what you think. I'd appreciate it a lot. (puppy dog eyes)