and i'd give up forever to touch you
cos i know that you feel me somehow
you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be
and i don't want to go home right now

People went overboard in trying to be poetic about eyes. They couldn't just be normal colors, no, they had to be emerald or bronze or sapphire, never just green or brown or blue. They had to be like sky or sea or storm. People walked around with miniature panoramas embedded in their faces, if you'd believe the stories.

They were just eyes.

So what if her eyes were violet? They were not amethyst (she knew, because her mother had one set in a brooch) and they were not fire, because it would be truly freaky if they really were, right? It was just a trick of genetics. Same with Takato – so what if his eyes were red – truly red, not just a rich sort of brown – it was all a part of the random lottery of DNA.

So why, whenever she looked at him, did visions of burning skies and bloodied suns rise to her mind?

She wondered what he saw – if he saw anything at all – when he looked at her eyes. It was of course not the sort of thing she'd ever ask, but for a moment she entertained the thought of a violent reaction if he said anything remotely similar to 'amethyst fire'.

and all i can taste is this moment
and all i can breathe is your life
cos sooner or later it's over
i just don't want to miss you tonight

They sat under a shade-tree in the park while the sun blazed in the middle of the sky. Idly, Ruki examined her hand, which appeared all stippled from the leaf-filtrated sunlight. It looked like the play of light on something underwater, but patches and spatterings instead of thin twisting ribbons.

Takato reached out and covered her hand with his own. Ruki studied Takato's sun-dappled hand with the same vague intent she'd studied her own. His hand was more tanned than hers. Larger, but shaped much the same – long fingers, slender and tapering, small-palmed.

Ruki thought back to that time when one of her mother's friends had, when Ruki had gone over to render a sullen greeting, seized both her hands in a surprisingly strong grip. For one startled moment Ruki had thought she was going to get a palm-reading or something (she put nothing past her mother's friends) but all the gaijin woman had done was gush, "What elegant fingers! Rumiko, your daughter has the hands of an artist!"

Ruki felt about as artistic as the heel on her shoe, but she thought the description fit Takato.

and i don't want the world to see me
cos i don't think that they'd understand
when everything's meant to be broken
i just want you to know who i am

The pressure of Takato's hand on hers was very light, a sensation of dry coolness against her skin. Takato always handled her with a subtle delicacy, like someone stepping round a watchful wild thing.

So lightly he rested his hand on hers, his thumb slowly stroking across the back of her palm, so studiously absent-minded that it was deliberate. Ruki knew, without turning her head to see, that the look in Takato's eyes would be one of wonder and infinite tenderness, a look too deep and strong and bright for someone his age – it would be, at least, except for the trials in two worlds he – and all of them – had undergone.

and you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
or the moment of truth in your lies
when everything feels like the movies
yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive

Ruki suddenly bit down hard on the side of her cheek, feeling a salty taste bloom on her tongue. The sharp sting of the wound helped distract her from a deeper – bone-achingly deep – pain. She suddenly turned her hand, and pressed her palm against his. Her fingers wrapped around his hand, gripping it as though trying to impart warmth.

And if this were a story-book, or even just a music video, they would embrace, or turn and face each other, rest their foreheads against each other's, look deep into eyes that were not precious stones or fires or skies. And truth be told, she wanted to. She wanted an excuse to be closer. She wanted to embrace him, feel her arms wrapped around him tightly, reminding her that she could still hold him. But she knew that if she attempted it, there would be hesitancy in the gesture and the moment would become awkward and stilted. And, in a way, to have it be like…that…would be worse than not having done anything at all.

And then he squeezed back, and Ruki knew that this was enough.

i just want you to know who i am...

Completed September 4, 2003
Soundtrack: Until I Fall Away by the Gin Blossoms
In This Diary by the Ataris
Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

I have a feeling there was too much lyrics and not enough actual text. -_-;;

Because this is such a labo fic, the author's note is going to be long. Okay, this is more of a freewrite than anything else, starting out as a rant in a boring Filipino class about eyes and somehow morphing into this strange little fic. It sat in the back of my notebook for a month until, leafing through, I found it and transferred it into my laptop. ( I really need to pick out a name for it…all the other PCs have one…)

The funny thing is that Iris wasn't going to be a part of it until I found myself listening to it tonight, just as I put the last paragraphs in. I honestly didn't think of putting in any lyrics, much less Iris. (I was toying with the thought of quoting some Gin Blossoms though) I've always wanted to make a songfic for Iris but I was planning a longer one in the Dark Is Rising fandom…but it fit so well here. I didn't 'adjust' the story at all to put in the lyrics…I just stuck them in where I thought they fit. Feel free to disagree about its suitability.

I'm gonna shut up now.