rabenhorst (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rabenhorst) wrote2007-05-31 08:53 pm
rabenhorst) wrote2007-05-31 08:53 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Autumn
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fonulyn
Rating: PG
Pairing: Die and Kaoru
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the persons mentioned in this nor have any connections with them. I do not get any money from this, and it's written solely for entertainment purposes meaning no harm.
Comments: Well, I still am somewhat determined to finish the challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50stories , and write something from the themes. I know that it’s not autumn now, but I was somehow still in the mood and that’s when this came out^^ It’s not exactly a fic even, more like a short drabble, but I still thought I’d share and it would be nice to hear what you thought^^
He had always somehow liked the city lights when it was dark. Especially after it had rained, when the asphalt was still glistening wet and reflecting the colours of the lights so that it seemed as if the lights came from every possible direction. The yellow leaves of the few trees that grew there were sticking to the wet ground, probably jammed on place by dozens of feet that had stepped over them.
These were the times when he felt alive. These were the times when he could just walk around aimlessly, not really needing to do anything. These were the times when he could just think things through, the strange contentment filling him.
But these were also the times when he felt lonely the most.
What sense did it make to see how the autumn was creeping over the land, chasing the summer away and making way to the upcoming winter, when you were alone? Was there a reason to see how the water made the dying ground come alive for a short while even, when there was no one to share it with? He knew those were just some incoherent feelings, something stupid that only came into his mind when he was lonely enough to actually hear his thoughts.
When he had been younger he’d drowned the melancholy in alcohol, letting the noises in a dimly lit bar muffle the whispering sounds inside of his head, allowing the drinks he poured down his throat wash away all uncomfortable feelings. He still did it, but not as often. Now he sometimes just craved for silence.
There were days when he just turned off the lights from the hotel room, took the pack of cigarettes and a lighter and went to the balcony, letting his gaze roam over the city lights. Taking a drag after another from one cig after another, watching while one car after another passed the hotel by somewhere down on the street and one person after another just went on with his life down there. It made him feel like he wasn’t really a part of that all.
Despite making him melancholy, the feeling was somewhat good too. He was able to put himself upon his worries for a while, able to detach from the routines the days brought. Able to think. And think, that was what he did, even when he didn’t notice it.
He was sure his friends already knew about this habit of his, but no one ever said anything. Maybe it was just that no one ever thought it was anything important. If he wanted to spend time alone like that, then why not? It’s not like it would harm anyone. They never offered to accompany him though, never asked if he wanted someone there with him.
He knew he would’ve told them no. And they knew it too.
Still, one of these completely normal evenings, as he went to the balcony of yet another hotel room he happened to have for that night. How did these things always have a balcony? He leaned over the balustrade, watching down as the tiny people were running there. He watched as the smoke he blew into the air just hovered there before disappearing into the wind.
And he heard a click behind him.
It was followed by soft footsteps, nothing more. Maybe, if he tried to concentrate on listening, he might hear the slight sound of someone breathing. But most of all, there was this feeling that you’re not alone. That you know there’s someone with you, even when that someone doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any noises.
You know who that someone is.
So he didn’t say anything either, didn’t turn his gaze. He took the pack of cigarettes and held it to the side, silently offering the other a smoke, which was accepted. Soon there was someone beside him, another pair of arms leaning on the balustrade beside his own.
He smiled.
Author:
fonulynRating: PG
Pairing: Die and Kaoru
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the persons mentioned in this nor have any connections with them. I do not get any money from this, and it's written solely for entertainment purposes meaning no harm.
Comments: Well, I still am somewhat determined to finish the challenge at
50stories , and write something from the themes. I know that it’s not autumn now, but I was somehow still in the mood and that’s when this came out^^ It’s not exactly a fic even, more like a short drabble, but I still thought I’d share and it would be nice to hear what you thought^^He had always somehow liked the city lights when it was dark. Especially after it had rained, when the asphalt was still glistening wet and reflecting the colours of the lights so that it seemed as if the lights came from every possible direction. The yellow leaves of the few trees that grew there were sticking to the wet ground, probably jammed on place by dozens of feet that had stepped over them.
These were the times when he felt alive. These were the times when he could just walk around aimlessly, not really needing to do anything. These were the times when he could just think things through, the strange contentment filling him.
But these were also the times when he felt lonely the most.
What sense did it make to see how the autumn was creeping over the land, chasing the summer away and making way to the upcoming winter, when you were alone? Was there a reason to see how the water made the dying ground come alive for a short while even, when there was no one to share it with? He knew those were just some incoherent feelings, something stupid that only came into his mind when he was lonely enough to actually hear his thoughts.
When he had been younger he’d drowned the melancholy in alcohol, letting the noises in a dimly lit bar muffle the whispering sounds inside of his head, allowing the drinks he poured down his throat wash away all uncomfortable feelings. He still did it, but not as often. Now he sometimes just craved for silence.
There were days when he just turned off the lights from the hotel room, took the pack of cigarettes and a lighter and went to the balcony, letting his gaze roam over the city lights. Taking a drag after another from one cig after another, watching while one car after another passed the hotel by somewhere down on the street and one person after another just went on with his life down there. It made him feel like he wasn’t really a part of that all.
Despite making him melancholy, the feeling was somewhat good too. He was able to put himself upon his worries for a while, able to detach from the routines the days brought. Able to think. And think, that was what he did, even when he didn’t notice it.
He was sure his friends already knew about this habit of his, but no one ever said anything. Maybe it was just that no one ever thought it was anything important. If he wanted to spend time alone like that, then why not? It’s not like it would harm anyone. They never offered to accompany him though, never asked if he wanted someone there with him.
He knew he would’ve told them no. And they knew it too.
Still, one of these completely normal evenings, as he went to the balcony of yet another hotel room he happened to have for that night. How did these things always have a balcony? He leaned over the balustrade, watching down as the tiny people were running there. He watched as the smoke he blew into the air just hovered there before disappearing into the wind.
And he heard a click behind him.
It was followed by soft footsteps, nothing more. Maybe, if he tried to concentrate on listening, he might hear the slight sound of someone breathing. But most of all, there was this feeling that you’re not alone. That you know there’s someone with you, even when that someone doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any noises.
You know who that someone is.
So he didn’t say anything either, didn’t turn his gaze. He took the pack of cigarettes and held it to the side, silently offering the other a smoke, which was accepted. Soon there was someone beside him, another pair of arms leaning on the balustrade beside his own.
He smiled.