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: B s . A A A    : full 3/4 1/2   : E E   : Light Dark Anime/Manga » Naruto » Smile

Seireihime
Author of 15 Stories

Rated: K+ - English - Angst/Romance - Pein & Konan - Reviews: 11 - Published: 10-26-07 - Complete - id:3857330

Smile

Another little PeinxKonan ficlet from your's truly. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:...


He wonders why he's never seen her smile.

He wonders why it's always a small smirk or leer bestowed upon the bloodied corpses of her countless vicitms.

He wonders as he watches her fix the snow-white paper flower in her hair.

Wonders why she has never smiled.

Smiled for him.

And he wonders why he even cared.


The wind howled ferociously against the grimy window of the small, two bed motel room. Rain lashed angrily against the dirty glass, as thunder struck a beat to the stormy song lightning was dancing to.

The dented door flew open, and bits of its peeling paint leapt off the wood and drifted slowly to the dusty, sticky artificial hard-wood floor below.

She held the door open politely for him, and he acknowledged the act with a stiff nod as he pressed his own pale hand against the damp wood, propping it open further. Their hands brushed together faintly, but neither took much notice. They have known eachother for many years. An accidental touch eventually went unnoticed by both, along with all signs of humanity.

Immediately, she headed for the vanity. He was used to this routine now, despite the fact that he'd never considered her as a person much concerned about their appearance.

But he knew this was different, as she slowly seated herself on the moth-chewed stool and carefully removed the now limp origami flower from her azure locks.

This was very different.

So once again, he made no comment and left her to her business.


He stops wondering as she slowly turns to face him, an undeniable trace of shock upon her procelain face.

There's a small, nagging feeling in his lower abdomen. It wasn't fear, wasn't arousement. It was unlike anything he has ever felt before. Worse than weakness, better than power.

He liked it.


The floorboards cried out as he made his way slowly to one of the beds. Finding a spot on the stained sheet that appeared relatively cleaner than other areas, he lowered himself upon it, mentally wincing at the grinding, sqeaking springs beneath, threatening to snap at any second.

She ignored the godawful noise, her attention fixed solely on the flimsy hairpice adorning her azure locks. He watched her remove the flimsy hairpiece carefully and place it gently on the dented and scratched surface of the cheap dresser. Briskly, she pulled out a new paper and began to fold it anew. He admired the way her skillful hands moved with such precision and confidence, cradling and molding the paper until it bloomed into an exact replica of the dirty and bloodstained one wilting on the dresser.

He always like moments like this, secretly watching her subtle movements, while both settled for content silence.

It was always during moments like this when he wondered.


Her hand goes up, and her fingers fiddle idly with the origami flower nested in her hair.

But she does not speak.

And her face does not change.

He is...disappointed?


A flash of lightning lit up the sky outisde, illuminating a thin crescent of her pale visage.

He watched, mesmerized by something he just couldn't identify.

Time seemed to stop as his eyes swept obver her, picking up all the vast details and obvious subtleties.

Things no other man would ever think twice about.

He observed the way she sat so primly, back straight as a board, knees together, with legs leaning slightly to the side...like a perfect mannequin.

Observed the way she moved her hands as she pinned her new, blanched flower to a hairpin, looking as if they were dancing to a melody only she could hear.

The way her face looked like a cold, hard, plastic mask. Pretty, even beautiful...but apathetic to the rest of the world.

Of course, he was not one to complain about lack of emotion...

...It was just that...

...There was something wrong when it was applied to her. Very wrong.

All of a sudden, azure clashed with concentric crimson, and by the time the lightning's illumination had faded, he understood what had happened.

He was staring.

And she had caught him.


She watches him warily...is that a tinge of sadness in her eyes?

Slowly, she rises from her stool, and makes her way slowly towards him.

The silence is deafening.

Even the floorboards remain quiet.

Finally, she speaks, shattering the tension like glass shatters from a sledgehammer blow:

"Do you really want to know why?"

For once, he is speechless.


"What is it Pein?" Her voice was soothingly calm. But it's relaxing factor didn't affect him.

Her mouth stayed in a straight line.

He searched for the right words to say, but nothing seemed to work. There really wasn't a right way to ask.

He finally met her eyes bravely, like the leader he was...

"Why do you never smile?"

...And crimson fell from sapphire.

Rain drops clung to the dirty window glass, hanging on for dear life, making the glass appear as though it was crying.


"Do you really want to know why?" she asks again.

He finally finds his voice, making it indifferent, making it betray his inner turmoil...

...Yet making it speak the truth:

"No."

I want to see...

She does not reply at first.

When she finally moves, he is surprised to see her remove the origami flower from her hair, making it look strangely empty without it.

She cups the ornament in her hand like it is her child, and turns to face him fully.

She smiles.

It is an awkward smile. He suspects she has not smiled for a long time...or perhaps never. Her lips curl at a strange angle, and the foreign look does not allow the rest of her face to mold into it...yet.

But it is still beautiful.

He thinks they must have stood there for hours, weeks, years. Below, people laugh and talk loudly in the musty motel lobby. Outside, the storm rages on, though most of its anger is spent. Wind howls and pushes against cracks in the rotting window pane, filling the small room with moist, cold air. Yet he hears, smells, feels none of that.

He only sees.

Sees her smile.

He stands there speechless and not caring, open and vulnerable...like a fool.

He does not smile back, and he knows she does not expect him to.

Stitching the perfect image into his mind to keep for all eternity, he does not notice that her smile is already gone.


Rain tapped timidly against the window...

...Forming tears of joy.


He no longer wonders why she has never smiled.

He only wonders when she will smile for him again.

But, he realizes with great satisfaction as the first soft rays of the morning sun peek through the bedroom blinds...

...She has already smiled for him.

Just one smile.

He feels her stir against him, half-lidded and sleep-induced eyes gazing up at him, drowning him in pools of the deepest blue.

There is a moment of serenity, where he knows neither one of them has slid fully into the grasps of consciousness, where both may lie entwined without a worry...forever...

She sits up abruptly, and her face reverts back to the marble mask of indifference as she grabs her cloak and begins to dress.

He thinks there is a faint grin tugging at her lips though.

Just one grin.

One smile.

-

-

-

-

It would suffice.


Hope it was okay! Lots of poetic crap in there, which Pein could probably never dream up of even if he tried. Sorry.

Also, if you're confused: Parts of this story are in present-tense, and the others are sort of like flashbacks. The lay-out ended up very disorganized...once again, sorry.

So due to the constant changing in tenses, there's bound to be some grammar errors in here. Please inform me if you spot any! Thankies!!

Constructive criticism always welcome!!

-xXsilent-musicXx



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