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azuriteSo apparently Seto x Anzu is getting a bit of a boost from various writers here on LJ posting fics, ficlets, or what-have-you, including responses to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kirschreich's 42 prompts. I already did 5 of these previously, none of which had any bearing on one another, but following geniusgirl's responses to them (which may or may not be part of her "Memoriam"), I think I'll do a few that ARE connected to one another, but ARE NOT connected to any greater work, planned greater work, someone else's work, or previous challenge responses. With that said, 11. Aspirin Days
Today is one of those days when she wishes she could just down half her bottle of aspirin and then just jump into bed. Actually, it's the tenth of such days in a row, and she wishes it would just stop-- but wishing never got her anywhere, and she knows that.
Everything ended, and now her apartment -the apartment she rented with the hopes of getting married to somebody, someday- is barren of all things "him." Except for the toothbrush that she finds in the master bathroom. It's dark blue and nothing special, except that she wrote his name on it in marker. His grip was always so strong and sure -he was one of those perfectionists when it came to the state of his teeth, even though they both knew he never smiled except for her- and his name is barely visible now. But she can still see the lines, as if she'd just written them, and the smell of permanent marker was fresh in her nostrils.
Her apartment has two bathrooms-- a small one in the main entryway, with just a toilet and a small sink, while the master bathroom connected to her bedroom has a lion-claw tub made of porcelain and a shower made of etched glass and bright brass. There are too many memories in that bathroom, so when she first gets home from work these days, she puts up with the cold and the cramped space of the other bathroom to do her business. She pretends that the other bathroom is nothing more than a tiled storage closet.
The problem, of course, is that even if it's just a simple toothbrush she can't bring herself to get rid of (and it's not as if she doesn't notice it each time she's in there; for something as simplistic as a damned toothbrush, it unfailingly grabs her attention the moment she walks in). Everything else -her medicines, her brush, her toiletries - is in there. And right now, one item in particular is supposed to be the object of her complete attention, but she can't bring herself to look at it. She wishes she could just go to the other bathroom and forget, but she can't. She knows she can't, because it won't change anything.
She keeps staring at his toothbrush instead, wondering where she --they!-- went wrong. Or maybe it was just never meant to be, like Jounouchi told her when she called him and Yuugi, hiccuping through her tears. Yuugi didn't agree or disagree with Jounouchi, and in fact, was the catalyst for them getting together at last. He does quietly point out that she shouldn't take all the blame on her own, to which Jounouchi agrees enthusiastically without really understanding the words Yuugi didn't say.
She was inclined to agree with Jounouchi more that night, because she felt stupid for being the same childish, idealistic girl she had been in high school. He'd always been more mature than her, and she'd admired that -respected that. And now he's gone, and she would go back to sobbing on the phone with her friends if she didn't think that the one thing that could catapult her into real adulthood was looming less than a meter away.
She finally decides to start acting her age and not her shoe size (though truly, she remembers, that expression only makes sense in Western countries like America. For her in Japan, there's not that much of a difference between her age and her shoe size, anyway). She decides that downing any more than the directed amount of aspirin -no matter how bad her head has been pounding the past few days, because of how much she's been crying and crying and crying- won't do any good, anyway.
She closes the distance between her and that thing on the toilet lid, sees what it says, and breaks out into a fresh set of tears, because she doesn't want to be alone right now-- even if she knows in the back of her mind that she's not alone at all, no matter how barren her apartment seems. It's not even the toothbrush that has such a niggling presence in her mind anymore, but the confirmation that there's a presence inside her now. She just wishes it were enough for her in that moment.
08. Stuck in a Moment
He spent so much time at her apartment, getting used to a simpler, less expensive way of living that it's unusual to be back at his "real home," with his "real" things. These are things that are "him" in every sense of the word, but somehow they still exude an alien feeling-- a sense of darkness, or foreboding.
But he knows he's just transferring his own recent feelings onto inanimate objects. Quite foolish, actually. He's been doing that a lot, lately: charging plain old things with significance and meaning, with a connection to her, or them, to that time.
He tries his hardest to revert to his old self -the person he was before she interfered in his life, before she became so deeply intwined in everything he said and did and breathed and felt. But it's foolish to wish to be someone you were, and can never be again. It's foolish to wish yourself younger. Being an adult means facing responsibility and dealing with these kind of things maturely.
He's always thought of himself as mature, capable, and responsible, but he can't seem to get out of the childish mode he was in when everything collapsed in on itself. When everything changed, when everything "they" were changed irrevocably.
When they ended.
He's still stuck in that moment, still in her apartment, still seeing the hundreds of thousands of things they did in every room, from dancing to silence in her living room to her giggling over his methodical teeth-brushing in her master bathroom. Even though they'd spent so much time there, he'd never been able to think of that place as "his," or "theirs." She was the only one that ever seemed to come close to that, and when he'd come close to asking her to be more, he'd second-guessed. And everything had ended.
20. Schadenfreude
He never second-guessed.
But he's frozen as if he were standing in her brightly lit bathroom, toothbrush in hand, waiting for something. Maybe her.
He wonders if she still uses that bathroom, and then wonders why she wouldn't. She probably bounced back from all this without any tears shed. If there's one thing that never changed about her -and was it a good thing or a bad thing?- it was that she was unfailingly chipper. Always energetic, always bouncy. She would bounce back from this, just like she bounced back from anything else.
He would be the one to slip into his own darkness again, and let it crush him-- even if he knew better.
For the briefest of moments, he's unstuck, and he thinks she might be back at home, crying her eyes out like she's a teenager again. He gets a sick sense of pleasure from that, but he doesn't understand why, and he hates himself for it afterwards.
24. Right in your face
He wonders how he's survived the past five months, not even seeing her face. It's not as if he's erased her entirely from his existence --pictures of them together are still hidden in the depths of his desk drawers, and as secret files on his hard drive. But he's made it a point to not actively seek out things about her-- not online, not on TV, not in the newspapers. But then, when he goes about his daily life, he doesn't see a mention of her anywhere anyway, and he wonders if his avoidance of her has actually erased her from existence.
It's a stupid thought, but for some reason, he can't let it go. He doesn't know what draws him to the Turtle Game Shop that day, as if to confirm from Yuugi --because at least part of the blame could be traced back to him, anyway-- that she really had existed.
He doesn't expect to hear her voice calling out welcome from the back, or to see her face blanch white the moment she sees his face clearly, realizes it's HIM and not a stranger, not a random customer... and what was she doing working THERE anyway?
The thought is fleeting.
He sees the way that silly apron hangs over the swell in her stomach -the swell that's right in his face, and has been from the moment she walked in from the stock room- and he wishes he could just go weak in the knees and collapse to the floor. But he doesn't, and he keeps staring, and she keeps staring back, and there is nothing but invisible silence and tension between them.
That was really my first foray at trying to write in the present tense, which is definitely NOT my strong suit. Please tell me if you spot any places where the tense shifts inappropriately.
That said, I might continue this "story" of sorts in future installments to the 42 themes, but I might not. I just wrote what came to me in this moment. I know this post contains fewer themes than my last one, but my responses are longer, so I hope that makes up for it... I toldatlantian_magic that blurbs are hard! And I ended up switching form Anzu's POV in the first theme to Seto's for the rest... :P
Anyway, tell me what you think. :P It's sad that I've been able to write these as quickly as I have, when I have my own locked theme at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30kisses that's unfinished, among other projects... :P
kirschreich's 42 prompts. I already did 5 of these previously, none of which had any bearing on one another, but following geniusgirl's responses to them (which may or may not be part of her "Memoriam"), I think I'll do a few that ARE connected to one another, but ARE NOT connected to any greater work, planned greater work, someone else's work, or previous challenge responses. With that said, 11. Aspirin DaysToday is one of those days when she wishes she could just down half her bottle of aspirin and then just jump into bed. Actually, it's the tenth of such days in a row, and she wishes it would just stop-- but wishing never got her anywhere, and she knows that.
Everything ended, and now her apartment -the apartment she rented with the hopes of getting married to somebody, someday- is barren of all things "him." Except for the toothbrush that she finds in the master bathroom. It's dark blue and nothing special, except that she wrote his name on it in marker. His grip was always so strong and sure -he was one of those perfectionists when it came to the state of his teeth, even though they both knew he never smiled except for her- and his name is barely visible now. But she can still see the lines, as if she'd just written them, and the smell of permanent marker was fresh in her nostrils.
Her apartment has two bathrooms-- a small one in the main entryway, with just a toilet and a small sink, while the master bathroom connected to her bedroom has a lion-claw tub made of porcelain and a shower made of etched glass and bright brass. There are too many memories in that bathroom, so when she first gets home from work these days, she puts up with the cold and the cramped space of the other bathroom to do her business. She pretends that the other bathroom is nothing more than a tiled storage closet.
The problem, of course, is that even if it's just a simple toothbrush she can't bring herself to get rid of (and it's not as if she doesn't notice it each time she's in there; for something as simplistic as a damned toothbrush, it unfailingly grabs her attention the moment she walks in). Everything else -her medicines, her brush, her toiletries - is in there. And right now, one item in particular is supposed to be the object of her complete attention, but she can't bring herself to look at it. She wishes she could just go to the other bathroom and forget, but she can't. She knows she can't, because it won't change anything.
She keeps staring at his toothbrush instead, wondering where she --they!-- went wrong. Or maybe it was just never meant to be, like Jounouchi told her when she called him and Yuugi, hiccuping through her tears. Yuugi didn't agree or disagree with Jounouchi, and in fact, was the catalyst for them getting together at last. He does quietly point out that she shouldn't take all the blame on her own, to which Jounouchi agrees enthusiastically without really understanding the words Yuugi didn't say.
She was inclined to agree with Jounouchi more that night, because she felt stupid for being the same childish, idealistic girl she had been in high school. He'd always been more mature than her, and she'd admired that -respected that. And now he's gone, and she would go back to sobbing on the phone with her friends if she didn't think that the one thing that could catapult her into real adulthood was looming less than a meter away.
She finally decides to start acting her age and not her shoe size (though truly, she remembers, that expression only makes sense in Western countries like America. For her in Japan, there's not that much of a difference between her age and her shoe size, anyway). She decides that downing any more than the directed amount of aspirin -no matter how bad her head has been pounding the past few days, because of how much she's been crying and crying and crying- won't do any good, anyway.
She closes the distance between her and that thing on the toilet lid, sees what it says, and breaks out into a fresh set of tears, because she doesn't want to be alone right now-- even if she knows in the back of her mind that she's not alone at all, no matter how barren her apartment seems. It's not even the toothbrush that has such a niggling presence in her mind anymore, but the confirmation that there's a presence inside her now. She just wishes it were enough for her in that moment.
08. Stuck in a Moment
He spent so much time at her apartment, getting used to a simpler, less expensive way of living that it's unusual to be back at his "real home," with his "real" things. These are things that are "him" in every sense of the word, but somehow they still exude an alien feeling-- a sense of darkness, or foreboding.
But he knows he's just transferring his own recent feelings onto inanimate objects. Quite foolish, actually. He's been doing that a lot, lately: charging plain old things with significance and meaning, with a connection to her, or them, to that time.
He tries his hardest to revert to his old self -the person he was before she interfered in his life, before she became so deeply intwined in everything he said and did and breathed and felt. But it's foolish to wish to be someone you were, and can never be again. It's foolish to wish yourself younger. Being an adult means facing responsibility and dealing with these kind of things maturely.
He's always thought of himself as mature, capable, and responsible, but he can't seem to get out of the childish mode he was in when everything collapsed in on itself. When everything changed, when everything "they" were changed irrevocably.
When they ended.
He's still stuck in that moment, still in her apartment, still seeing the hundreds of thousands of things they did in every room, from dancing to silence in her living room to her giggling over his methodical teeth-brushing in her master bathroom. Even though they'd spent so much time there, he'd never been able to think of that place as "his," or "theirs." She was the only one that ever seemed to come close to that, and when he'd come close to asking her to be more, he'd second-guessed. And everything had ended.
20. Schadenfreude
He never second-guessed.
But he's frozen as if he were standing in her brightly lit bathroom, toothbrush in hand, waiting for something. Maybe her.
He wonders if she still uses that bathroom, and then wonders why she wouldn't. She probably bounced back from all this without any tears shed. If there's one thing that never changed about her -and was it a good thing or a bad thing?- it was that she was unfailingly chipper. Always energetic, always bouncy. She would bounce back from this, just like she bounced back from anything else.
He would be the one to slip into his own darkness again, and let it crush him-- even if he knew better.
For the briefest of moments, he's unstuck, and he thinks she might be back at home, crying her eyes out like she's a teenager again. He gets a sick sense of pleasure from that, but he doesn't understand why, and he hates himself for it afterwards.
24. Right in your face
He wonders how he's survived the past five months, not even seeing her face. It's not as if he's erased her entirely from his existence --pictures of them together are still hidden in the depths of his desk drawers, and as secret files on his hard drive. But he's made it a point to not actively seek out things about her-- not online, not on TV, not in the newspapers. But then, when he goes about his daily life, he doesn't see a mention of her anywhere anyway, and he wonders if his avoidance of her has actually erased her from existence.
It's a stupid thought, but for some reason, he can't let it go. He doesn't know what draws him to the Turtle Game Shop that day, as if to confirm from Yuugi --because at least part of the blame could be traced back to him, anyway-- that she really had existed.
He doesn't expect to hear her voice calling out welcome from the back, or to see her face blanch white the moment she sees his face clearly, realizes it's HIM and not a stranger, not a random customer... and what was she doing working THERE anyway?
The thought is fleeting.
He sees the way that silly apron hangs over the swell in her stomach -the swell that's right in his face, and has been from the moment she walked in from the stock room- and he wishes he could just go weak in the knees and collapse to the floor. But he doesn't, and he keeps staring, and she keeps staring back, and there is nothing but invisible silence and tension between them.
That was really my first foray at trying to write in the present tense, which is definitely NOT my strong suit. Please tell me if you spot any places where the tense shifts inappropriately.
That said, I might continue this "story" of sorts in future installments to the 42 themes, but I might not. I just wrote what came to me in this moment. I know this post contains fewer themes than my last one, but my responses are longer, so I hope that makes up for it... I told
atlantian_magic that blurbs are hard! And I ended up switching form Anzu's POV in the first theme to Seto's for the rest... :PAnyway, tell me what you think. :P It's sad that I've been able to write these as quickly as I have, when I have my own locked theme at
30kisses that's unfinished, among other projects... :P
