Fandom: Digimon: Digital Monsters
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sometimes, there are two possible sides to every story.
Pairing: Daikari; Daiken [both implied]
Warnings: For light shounen-ai. Nothing graphic or serious at all.
Disclaimer: Digimon: Digital Monsters and all related characters do not belong to me. Seriously, if they did, I would have died of happiness by now.
Author's Note: My first venture into Digimon fanfiction though I've been a fan for at least three to four years. Just a short piece that came to me during my pointless 9th period class. I didn't want to write anything too complex or intense, just a simple, drabble-y ficlet. Hope you enjoy~!


The Way It Goes


This is the way the story should go…

There is a girl, with short brown hair that shines in the sunlight and deep brown eyes full of warmth and laughter.

Her cheeks are always bright pink from the wind and the sunshine, and her mouth is upturned in a perpetual smile.

She's honest and trustworthy, with a light in her eyes that makes you realize she'd never do anything to hurt anyone consciously.

From the soft whiffs you've managed to catch of her as she runs by you in the hallways or on the playing field, you can tell that she smells of summertime and of apples.

You think that she must taste of strawberries and childhood, sweet and carefree, and as you watch her you can imagine your arms around her waist, now girl-shaped and soft as she grows into her teenaged body.

You can imagine her hands in your hair, and her lips on your cheek, soft words in your ear that make you smile and hold her a bit closer to you.

There is comfort and a brilliant radiance in her presence, and it soothes your coiled nerves and calms your frantic pulsebeat, lulling you into a state of pure tranquility.

To stand this way under the bright sunshine, holding this pretty brown-haired girl…

It's happiness, it's bliss… yet you feel nothing at all.

This is how the story is.

There is a boy, with shoulder-length hair that shimmers violet in the moonlight and deep cobalt eyes full of loneliness and despair.

His cheeks are always pale from confinement within shadows and darkness, and his mouth is pulled into a thin line, uncertain and awkward when he does smile.

He's reclusive and secretive, with hidden depths to his eyes that make you realize there's so much he's holding back from you.

When you breathe in his scent during long, lazy walks across cracked pavement or after slumping down together, back-to-back after a competitive match, you can tell that he smells of wintertime and of roses.

You know that he tastes of rain and twilight, intensely bittersweet and achingly beautiful, and as you hold him your arms link together around the soft curve of his waist, much too feminine and yet just right for the shape of his body.

There's no need to imagine; you can already feel his hands grasping your hair, and his lips lingering against yours, silently brushing words against your mouth that make you shiver and hold him tighter.

There is sadness and a deep intensity in his presence, and it sets your every nerve on end and sends your heart racing, amplified by the feel of a second, identical pulse beating in your ears and dissolving into your blood, becoming an inseparable part of you.

To stand this way under the sacred moonlight, trying so hard to melt into this beautiful dark-haired boy…

It's happiness, it's bliss… and it's all you could ever want.

END.