Author: Hawk Clowd
Disclaimer: it seems I can write nothing but gravitation fics lately, which is a little bit sad... But it doesn't matter. Don't own them, don't want them.
Blood Type: chicken broth.
Date Started: January 24, 2004
Date Ended: January 24, 2004
Warnings: this is a Yuki POV fic and a bit of a PWP. I'm not sure if those account for needing warnings or not.
Archived: just the usual places. The Fish Pond, FanFiction.Net, Gurabiteshiyon.net... Maybe on live journal or something, if I ever get around to posting it there.
Author's Notes: I was talking to my friend Kyle and he suggested that I try to write something that was 550 words or less. Why he chose 550 I may never understand, but here's the result of that challenge. Not including the disclaimer and stuff up here or the word "end" on the bottom, this fic is exactly 550 words long. The story is called "Experiment" for multiple reasons. First, Yuki is trying out a new method of writing. Secondly, he's sort of still messing around with the idea of love. And, finally, because I've never written a fic this short. It was sort of an experiment for me, too. ^^
I looked over the words scribbled on the notepad in front of me, half pleased with them and half pissed that they hadn't turned out as I had planned. I had started with the intention of describing a scene between a man and a woman, a get-together full of compassion and warm feelings, but the words had somehow changed the idea into something...
Frowning over the words, I tried to imagine how it would fit into my current work. Typically I don't compose novels this way, writing scenes as they come to mind and then stringing them together as soon as I found a decent way of going about it, but it seemed to be working. I didn't lose ideas as quickly this way and the times when inspiration ran dry were slowly becoming sparse, short with long times in between. It certainly was less stressful than my usual method, a process that consisted of putting the story off for as long as possible and then locking myself in front of my computer for days until the work was completely finished, just in time to meet my latest deadline.
There were no deadlines this time. I liked this much better.
I put my pen to paper again as more ideas flooded my thoughts, and I flipped to a new page. Just as I had figured out how to begin the wording, how to begin this new segment of a story, the door to my apartment opened.
"Yuki!" Shuichi called as he walked in, kicking off his shoes so that they hit the wall with a loud thump and then fell meekly to the floor. "Tadaima!"
He flipped on a light and it was only then that I realized I'd been writing in the dark.
"What are you doing?" he questioned, tilting his head in curiosity. When I wordlessly nodded towards the pad of paper in my lap and the pen in my hand, desperately trying to keep track of the words I'd almost lost, he laughed. "Oh, right. I should have guessed; what else would you be doing, after all?"
He came over and nuzzled against my arm, trying to make me smile, or at least speak to him. "You're gonna ruin your eyes, you know, if you write without a light on," he said. "But that's okay. I'll love you anyway."
I didn't answer him and soon he gave up, walking into the next room. Looking forlornly at the paper in my lap, I realized I'd lost my train of thought. Damn him. It would take hours for me to recall what I'd been planning.
Sighing, I turned to the scene I'd written earlier, before the brat had come home, and I noticed that it was dull and hollow, not nearly as full of passion and wonder as I'd thought. There was nothing special about it; there was nothing there to be impressed with. I ripped it off the pad, angry at it for losing its earlier flavor, and then I set my pen to the paper again.
No ideas came to me, and, as Shuichi came back into the room, I understood why.
People say I write love stories, but those people are wrong. You can't write about something you know nothing about.