Disclaimer: Yeah, sure, I own this. Now please explain the need for BryKai fanfiction.
A/N: I just needed a break from Miguel x Kai. I read another one of these things, in LotR, and thought it'd be fun to do one myself. And I definitely recommend all of these songs.
1. Pick a fandom/pairing/character. (you know me - definitely Bryan x Kai for me)
2. Put your iPod/iTunes/MP3/whatever on random/shuffle.
3. As the song comes on, you write a drabble that it inspires. You have the length of the song to write it, when it's done, you can finish only the sentence, no more, no lingering!
Note: NO BETA ALLOWED.
4. Do ten of these and post them.
Stone Walls and Pretty Eyes
The Poor and the Prevalent - Emery
Ever since he was a little kid, it was beaten again and again into him that love was a weakness. After all, look at his father - loved his mother too much, loved Beyblading too much, look where he ended up.
So he raised stone walls around his heart, raised it so high that no emotion would ever go through, raised it so, so high.
But he never calculated for the one person that would try to take it down - never took into account the one person that would find that one small crack and try and widen it, try to tear his wall away.
Those passing touches, those light kisses, those stormy grey eyes that glanced at him, that stared and never left.
The Writhing South - Say Anything
It is agony, really, those light fingers that grazed at his side. Those lips that are just barely there - barely touching his skin.
'Stop teasing...,' he groans, arching into the skin that could cause such torture.
'What teasing?' The other kisses him, harshly, forcefully, roughly, teeth biting at his lips. 'That definitely wasn't.' The fingers trail down, almost there -
They leave his burning body. 'The fuck, get back here, you bastard - '
There is a sudden intake of air, and he finally opens his eyes, seeing a familiar redhead at the door, his mouth twisted into a furious snarl, his hands clenching at his sides.
'Oh shit,' he mutters.
These Things You Can't Unlearn - 65daysofstatic
It's raining again, he notices. His eyes try to make shapes out in the fog obscuring the window, and can only make out the endless rain, the trees that are becoming soggy - is that possible? Soggy trees?
He nearly smacks his head against the windowsill. Stop being stupid, he tells himself.
A part of his mind wanders back to the letter on the kitchen table. The other did say that he'll be back one day when it is raining... but then again, it seems as if everyday is raining here in Russia.
It's probably not today. He sighs, forcing himself to turn away from the window. Wallow in self-pity for three hours, check, he thinks with a twisted voice whispering in his head, look out the window... some more.
He's almost at the door, hand on an umbrella and shoes on his feet when he can hear a knock. Open it, the voice tells him, open it, open it, open it...
Piggy Bank Lies - Emery
He never thought that the other would lie to him, never thought that there might be even the slightest thing wrong with this life that they had.
Well, he was wrong. Irrevocably wrong.
'I'm supposing this is the part where you say it's not what it looks like?' he says wryly, mouth twisting into a wary smirk.
He knows that this was going to happen. He did notice the kisses that didn't seem to have as much life in them as before, the touches that seemed more like a chore than anything else.
The other has someone else's hands around his waist, someone else in his heart, and for some strange reason, he's fine with it.
'I knew it was coming long ago,' he continues, backing out of the doorway. 'Carry on.' He ignores the crack in his voice, the crack in his heart.
The Last Home Recording - 65daysofstatic
The static coming from the television remind him of home. With the always-grumpy, never-failing-to-give-up librarian who really did look as if a motorbike and the dirt track suited him more, but...
Remind him of the loving hands, that would wrap around him on a cold winter day, that would follow the lines of text in a book as he read to him, that would write out his love on pieces of scrap paper that he found in the most random of places.
Fake It - Seether
This is all a lie. A lie to deceive everyone he knows. Especially the one who takes his heart and locks it away within another body.
He's been making excuses, trying to prevent it for the longest time. But with tension between them like this, with the heated glances that become more heated every time... it's hard.
So he steels his nerve one night, and leaves the comforts of his house, walking out into the street and to the other's place. The rain that starts almost deters him, but he continues, half wondering why he didn't bring an umbrella. Oh well.
'Kinda wondered when you would be coming,' says the low, slightly growling voice at the door - before he knocks, even.
Mine - Taylor Swift (cover by Alex Goot)
He was... standoffish, at the best. Never one to socialize with others, he spent most of his time in the darkest, most isolated corners of the campus, his music blaring in his eardrums.
It worked, for a while. He had the privacy he wanted, and the lack of attention.
Three years passed this way.
It was a Valentine's Day when he met him. Red eyes, slate-grey-and-blue hair in wild spikes, with a tattered backpack that has definitely seen better days, coming up to him in the most isolated corner of the campus, a wide smirk on his face.
'I've been watching you for a while,' the other said confidently, reaching out and grabbing his hand, 'and I've decided that you are going to come with me to an otherwise unbearable party that my friend's hosting.'
Untitled #8 - Sigur Ros (yes!)
'Thinking of anything?' a quiet voice says in his ear, and warm arms wrap around his waist and a chin rests itself on his shoulder.
'How peaceful this place is.' He laces his fingers with the other's, feeling the comfort infuse him.
'We'll get a place nearby.'
He smiles, a tiny one, but he knows that the other knows that it's there. 'And you'll give up your motorcycle and resort to a safe truck?'
'Never.' A thumb goes in circles on his hand.
They stand there in a comfortable silence, leaning into each other, not saying anything - the other knows everything he's thinking about already, and he knows everything that's running through his lover's mind already. The seagulls caw overhead, and the waves lick at the wooden dock, and the entire port side is quiet - probably because it's all just nothing here, but he doesn't mind. He likes the quiet.
They end up staying there until it nears sunset.
He's back there, later. Sitting on the edge of the dock, his shoes and socks at his side and his feet skimming the top of the lake. The wind breezes through his hair and the seagulls are cawing overhead.
Soft footfalls sound behind him, and there's a clunk of boots and his lover is sitting next to him, hand covering his own and a quiet voice asking, 'Thinking of anything?'
He smiles and leans up to press his lips against the other's chapped ones. 'You.'
I Will Never Write An Obligatory Song About Being On The Road And Missing Someone - Say Anything
He takes the pen, and places it to paper, readying himself, writing the title at the top, starting the first paragraph, destroying the pure whiteness of the ream of printing paper.
The rap metal that is permeating the room, from the speakers on his bed, suddenly changes to something much, much softer, and he finds himself making a more forceful period than necessary. 'I thought I took all of his songs out of the thing already,' he mutters, wanting to lean over and change it but the lyrics come on and it's all he can do to not stop in his tracks.
And he writes, at the side of the main body of text, Well, fuck you and your songs. Complete bullshit, they are.
Pretty Eyes - Alex Goot
He thinks it's the eyes that drew him in at the beginning. The storm grey eyes that reflected the skies of Mother Russia during the middle of winter. The eyes that could turn mercurial in a second, reflecting the other's crazy temper. Or could turn into liquid silver in the heat of desire - he knows, because he's seen him with someone else before, and he turned toward him.
It's definitely the eyes. He peers at himself in the mirror. Red stares back at him, and he nearly snorts. Right. There's nothing enchanting about his eyes, unless one is talking about the blood-like colour. Nothing special. Not like those grey eyes that he's fallen in love with the first time he saw them.
The door opens and he glances over, almost angrily. Grey eyes stare back, and the mouth beneath it says, 'Wondering what's taking you so long, Kai.'
They're almost at Tala's house when the other leans down and presses his lips against his quickly, just a brush, and Bryan tells him, 'You have really pretty eyes, did you know?'