genre— a vast variety ahahaha
word count— 1,290
summary— Because there are those hidden moments of love that nobody can see; snapshots of a life of love. Ups, downs, realizations, and sometimes, just hard falling.
notes— I AM SO LATE AND YOU GUYS SHOULD ALL JUST HATE ME AND OMG AKJDLFKJAKDLFJAKLD and I'm just really bad at being punctual and hiiiiiiii I'm busy sometimes but I'm still such a sorry excuse for a friend and you guys can just lay on the hate right now PLZ DO
However, EVEREVEREVER, I do believe that this is something that needs to be celebrated. HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUOUOUOUOUOUOUOU POCKY-CHAN! OMG AJDFLAKJDFKLAJDLK I had too much trouble writing a single story so I wrote too many because I'm just dumb like that and AJDA=DLAKJDFJAKL AHHHH I HOPE YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS FABULOUS and omg am I super late and the correct answer is yes but I love you and yes I am a loser and I should stop ranting.
[004. and isn't life just grand?]
[dedication— YOOOO POCKY-CHANNN I'm so late aren't I okay /creys forever]
[hopefully this is okay and you don't wanna like idk kill me or something ugu. ;u;]
And she feels her stomach drop, her heart in her throat, and everything is fast, too fast, and everything is high, too high, and she can't help but squeeze her eyes shut, and like a glowing mantra, she mutters, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
She swears she can hear his thrilled laugh right next to her, like the sick sadist he is. He holds her hand tightly, but she tries really, really, really hard not to notice.
And then there's the thrill, the zoom, the zip, the bam; she feels the breath knocked out of her, and her eyes fly open to find the sky looping and spinning and she feels free, for a second.
It's like she's playing a dizzy little game, and she's losing, and she likes it.
It's over all too soon, the spinning's gone, her stomach still has its sanity, her heart is still beating (although a bit too fast for her tastes), and she's not flying anymore.
It's almost disappointing, really.
She still slaps him, even though she liked it. He just laughs though, and she scowls. Then he grins at her and says thank you for riding it with him, but all she's really focusing on is his smile, his sincerity, and the fact that he still hasn't let go of her hands.
And then all of a sudden, he squeezes her fingers, and everything's back. She's dizzy, her stomach is doing somersaults and cartwheels and flips, her heart is doing jumping jacks in her chest, and she's flying with wings so wide and white she feels like she's soaring.
She feels her heart muttering something. "I like you, I like you, I like you, I love you."
He's such a sadist, really.
She's amusing, he thinks. Different to boot.
She's pretty, pretty small, cute, has a glare that seemed to translate as the middle finger, a voice like a seven year old, is as short as a seven year old, ferocious, shining hair, and her eyes are quite nice.
"— are you listening to me?"
He nods. "Somewhat."
He hates being restrained, and really, where did she even learn to knot things this tightly? He wiggles his fingers. Funny, he can't seem to feel them.
"I think my circulation is being cut off," he remarks, frowning.
She twirls her "weapon". "I don't care."
He studies the flat surface of her so-called weapon, the worn black cast iron plates, and, "Is that a frying pan?"
She hugs it defensively to her chest. "And so what if it is?"
"Well no," he says, trying to shrug but he's not really able to. "It just seems…" He clicks his tongue. He's seen this before, he thinks vaguely.
Then she stands in front of him again, her skinny, short arms crossed firmly across her chest, and she's standing in the sunlight, the blinding sunlight, and the light is hitting her really nicely, and he's really not sure what to say anymore.
Because she's really pretty, she's short, her ferociousness is somewhat countered by a sort of eager curiosity, her hair is long and curly and tumbling, and then there's her eyes, which he's almost positive he's getting lost in. Maybe the light is making him go a little insane, or maybe he's finally seeing what was already there.
"Are you listening to me?" she asks.
It is a question that is lost on deaf ears and far away eyes.
Her heart feels like it just got sucker-punched or something. Her breath is short, ragged, and really, she just can't breathe at all.
It hurts, she thinks.
She has half a mind to say something to him, anything to him, because she just wants it to stop, stop, stop, stop, stop but it doesn't and she's not sure if she's crying because she thinks she might even though she really doesn't want to.
But then she loses her chance, because he's already kissing her— and just to be clear— it's not her, herself, Mashiro Rima. It's somebody else.
He was invented to be perfect. He is perfect.
He can run, he can work, he is intelligent, he can do everything, anything, and will. He's so close to being human, so close, so close, and yet—
She sits next to him, and she looks tired. She closes her eyes. "I like you," she says quietly. He watches her.
He nods. "I know," he whispers.
She offers a dry smile, but he thinks he can detect hurt in those eyes, and he wishes really hard, really hard, really hard that he could understand, and that he could feel something in those oiled gears and coils and wires instead of nothing.
Because he does know because he's supposed to be perfect and know these things, and then he thinks that she's really close to crying, and he really wishes again, really hard, that he could feel something like hurt, because he thinks that it'd be a whole lot better than feeling nothing.
He's tall, really tall. He's attractive to the point that girls really just want to jump him. It's sick, really, how attractive he is and how he never notices it.
He has the sense of humor of a dead slug. He's dry, sarcastic, and as witty as her. He's idiotic and an idiot and really an idiot and has she mentioned he's an idiot?
He's frustrating because he can never lose at a game, he's a sore winner sometimes, and he's too smart for her to ever win for long anyway. He's frustrating in the sense that he knows what makes her tick but he never uses them because he's just too soft and it bothers her but not in the way it should.
He sticks around. He's a little too loyal and he's always there and sometimes she thinks his presence is suffocating— in a good way, but she'd never say that out loud— and she thinks that it's okay when he holds her hand but she's not the type to say that to his face so she never does. He's stubborn even when she tells him to beat it and then he takes her trembling fingers and he pretends that it's cold and that he's shivering too so that it looks like she isn't scared. And it's so, so stupid because she thinks she likes it.
Because he holds her hands a lot and plays with her fingers and he likes dragging her up and making her dance that really lame Wii game because he says it'll help her coordination and he hugs her a lot when there's a thunderstorm and he's always there and always there is okay for her when it's him and she's thinks that it's scary and really scary how her heart beats too fast for him and how she felt really close to crying that one time he talked to that really pretty girl and how she can talk to him for hours and never notice and it's really scary, really scary to her because he makes her stomach flip and her heart stop and her breath short and her brain run in circles and she feels dizzy and it's just really scary, really scary to her.
And it's really scary, really scary to her, because she thinks she might love him.
a/n: ASDFGHJKALSDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLLL so I'm like really behind on everything that has to do with right now which sucks because kajdfladlfka ahhhhhAHHH AHHHHHHHHHHH. And I miss all my PM-ing friends because they're fabulous and I'm just a loser with the skills of a dead person /creys and I have excuses which is worse uh.
And I'm so sorry that my style is so wildly out of control but I suddenly had this really weird urge to write something a bit like this so I did? HOPEFULLY I DID THIS SORT/OF/STYLE/JUSTICE I'm worried truthfully;;; this was fun though ehe! I should do it a bit more;;
AHHHH BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS POCKY-CHAN! I know that I'm so late on your birthday asdfghjkll and yes you can totally bash my head in and it'd be totes okay ahahaha I'm such a loser
BUT MAN I HOPE YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS FABULOUS and if I am correct in remembering that long ago PM it was nice? AND I JUST LOVE YOU BECAUSE LEGIT YOU'RE LIKE MY SENSE OF HUMOR IMPLANTED IN A PERSON AND YOU'RE JUST KINDA DORKY AND YET YOU ACCEPT ME FOR BEING CRAZY AND STUPID AND SILLY AND OUR NONSENSICAL CONVOS ARE KIND OF TOO BOSS FOR ME TO HANDLE AND I JUST I just hope and hope and hope that these five little snapshots did your birthday and heart-of-gold self some sense of justice and ahahahakjsdfklajkldfa
I'm so behind on updating and PMs and I'm a rotten person and I SWEAR ON MY KOKORO that I will try hard to catch up and I have lotssa excuses but I think I'm updating tomorrow so maybe I'll just push it until then;;;;;;; (what I'm not lazy) and my a/n is super long but HEY this is a birthday message so I am allowed to rape my caps lock button and whatever other buttons because that's how I roll. Well, uhhh /rolls away
AHHH happy birthday Pocky-chan! I love you so so so SO SO SO SO much too much andandand YOU KNOW I'M ALWAYS HERE FOR YOU (sometimes in spirit when I'm just a derp at replying and schedules clash) BUT I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE BECAUSE THAT'S HOW A CREEP. s2 s2 s2 AND OUR DERPY HEARTS ARE LOVE.
Happy birthday and GEEEZZZZ I hope these were okay! And man they're probably the most ooc they'll ever be but but... /rolls
(I might do these again because they were just toooooo much fun for me ehehehe.) Review if you can, and thanks for so many nice words askldjfakldf;; and out of curiosity, which one was your favorite? (I'm nosy and I just like these things so I just wanna know ahaha;;;) Happy birthday, once again, POCKY-CHAN. s2
xoxo, Bluey-sannananan (anddddd cue end of long a/n I'm sorry why do I do this to you all.)