Categories > Anime/Manga > Slam Dunk > Moments
A/N: First SD fic. Hope they're not too out of character. RuHana shounen-ai content below, leave if it's not your thing.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Moments; i. break
He was all lines and contours and awkward angles, a hundred and eighty eight centimeters already, but limbs promising something much more before adolescents' end.
And he gleamed. My God, did he gleam.
Like the just polished surface of a baby grand, or the game ball before the first whistle blew. And if only Kaede was any good with metaphors because nothing, none of that did any justice to how when the light reflected off his skin, here and there, was like exposing a mystery map where there were storybook cities and highways lined with secrets. So he explored, in the only way he was allowed, until his eyes too were filled with maps.
He burned. And it was the sweat and heat and the adrenaline and of course the need. They were all that kept Kaede from withdrawing his hand, because the touch was electricity and chocolate and freshly whipped cream, it was a touch about rain after a decade long drought. So he left it there to feel alive. And was immediately burnt back with a hit to the eye.
The last time they touched. The first time there was a 'they', he had came up from behind, and held him so tight. And Kaede had stopped. He had stopped moving, breathing; heart had stopped beating almost, and willed time to stop too. He yearned to capture eternity in that moment and any movement at all was just. Not. Allowed. So they had stood there in the middle of the basketball courts, with Kaede still gripping the basketball left over from practice. And the Do'aho, head bent, eyes clenched, holding Kaede. So tight.
Then everything breaks, because everything does in the end. And Kaede is left standing alone.
Concrit would be nice.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Moments; i. break
He was all lines and contours and awkward angles, a hundred and eighty eight centimeters already, but limbs promising something much more before adolescents' end.
And he gleamed. My God, did he gleam.
Like the just polished surface of a baby grand, or the game ball before the first whistle blew. And if only Kaede was any good with metaphors because nothing, none of that did any justice to how when the light reflected off his skin, here and there, was like exposing a mystery map where there were storybook cities and highways lined with secrets. So he explored, in the only way he was allowed, until his eyes too were filled with maps.
He burned. And it was the sweat and heat and the adrenaline and of course the need. They were all that kept Kaede from withdrawing his hand, because the touch was electricity and chocolate and freshly whipped cream, it was a touch about rain after a decade long drought. So he left it there to feel alive. And was immediately burnt back with a hit to the eye.
The last time they touched. The first time there was a 'they', he had came up from behind, and held him so tight. And Kaede had stopped. He had stopped moving, breathing; heart had stopped beating almost, and willed time to stop too. He yearned to capture eternity in that moment and any movement at all was just. Not. Allowed. So they had stood there in the middle of the basketball courts, with Kaede still gripping the basketball left over from practice. And the Do'aho, head bent, eyes clenched, holding Kaede. So tight.
Then everything breaks, because everything does in the end. And Kaede is left standing alone.
Concrit would be nice.
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