Categories > Anime/Manga > Slam Dunk > Moments
A/N: There's just something not quite right with this short. I'm not quite sure, maybe you can tell me? Anyway, italics again signify thoughts.
Dislaimer: Chill. Not mine.
Moments; iii. yes
He was drowning in the nothingness.
Hour after hour, bounce after bounce and life drifted away as if it were a shadow of yesterday's angel, leaving him bare and just there - still breathing yes, but not really. Sleep, his only relief had deserted him - no longer did it mean rest. Sleep was hair like the red of fire brigade trucks, eyes like little pools of café latte demanding to be drunk, though not by him. Never by him. Sleep was also lemons and the number 7 and that goddamn hair and that disgusting smile that made him want to cringe but for all that, were allowed to drink, not drown in, these cafe latte pools.
And there they were. He couldn't help but look, could never help but look even as every molecule of him was screaming Turn Away. So he looked on, silent and alone and there was a touch, a smile, a peck, a tease, and oh he was sinking deeper and deeper until he could no longer see anything but the murky waters of abandon. And this had to stop.
He knew he couldn't go on. Not like this, not this fast, not now. Not not not. And he wondered when it had become a World About Not. Because then, what about Yes? He craved it, he yearned for it, he hurt for it, because after all, it was the only thing he was allowed to want now. So he screamed it that night as the body under him rocked and arched and pushed, he gasped it that night clutching unfamiliar blankets as all sorts of devious things were happening to his chest, he murmured it into the ear of that beautiful beautiful stranger amidst the sweat and the noise and the discothèque lights. So this continued until he had replaced the world of Not with a world about pretend Yeses.
And there they were again. Except this time only him, with no lemons or the number seven or broom-like hair or that disgusting smile. So they looked at one another and it was that current in the air that sizzled and shimmered and oh, this time it was a yes for real.
Yes.
You fly when you're with him.
He wants to say.
Yes.
You shine and you create and you are Yes.
All this with him. Yes.
And the world is transformed into one of Yeses for real.
He turns away. Away from the café latte pools, away from the fire brigade red, away from the 'Kitsune!' - because it is all worth it for Hanamichi's Yes.
I don't think I'm physically capable of writing anything that makes sense. Oh well. Feedback is still appreciated.
Dislaimer: Chill. Not mine.
Moments; iii. yes
He was drowning in the nothingness.
Hour after hour, bounce after bounce and life drifted away as if it were a shadow of yesterday's angel, leaving him bare and just there - still breathing yes, but not really. Sleep, his only relief had deserted him - no longer did it mean rest. Sleep was hair like the red of fire brigade trucks, eyes like little pools of café latte demanding to be drunk, though not by him. Never by him. Sleep was also lemons and the number 7 and that goddamn hair and that disgusting smile that made him want to cringe but for all that, were allowed to drink, not drown in, these cafe latte pools.
And there they were. He couldn't help but look, could never help but look even as every molecule of him was screaming Turn Away. So he looked on, silent and alone and there was a touch, a smile, a peck, a tease, and oh he was sinking deeper and deeper until he could no longer see anything but the murky waters of abandon. And this had to stop.
He knew he couldn't go on. Not like this, not this fast, not now. Not not not. And he wondered when it had become a World About Not. Because then, what about Yes? He craved it, he yearned for it, he hurt for it, because after all, it was the only thing he was allowed to want now. So he screamed it that night as the body under him rocked and arched and pushed, he gasped it that night clutching unfamiliar blankets as all sorts of devious things were happening to his chest, he murmured it into the ear of that beautiful beautiful stranger amidst the sweat and the noise and the discothèque lights. So this continued until he had replaced the world of Not with a world about pretend Yeses.
And there they were again. Except this time only him, with no lemons or the number seven or broom-like hair or that disgusting smile. So they looked at one another and it was that current in the air that sizzled and shimmered and oh, this time it was a yes for real.
Yes.
You fly when you're with him.
He wants to say.
Yes.
You shine and you create and you are Yes.
All this with him. Yes.
And the world is transformed into one of Yeses for real.
He turns away. Away from the café latte pools, away from the fire brigade red, away from the 'Kitsune!' - because it is all worth it for Hanamichi's Yes.
I don't think I'm physically capable of writing anything that makes sense. Oh well. Feedback is still appreciated.
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