nekare

Here's the seventh Christmas gift! I'll edit it later with why_me_why_not's beta-ed version. I do think no one here but zurizip (and hexes_jala, of course) will know what this is about :)

Title: Sunlight
Raiting: PG
Pairing: Ryoki/Hatsumi (Hot Gimmick)
Word Count: 433
Author Notes: Written for the lovely hexes_jala, whose promt word was curiosity, and her interest was sandals. Hope you like it, even when it's OOC as hell!

Ryoki lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling with arms outstretched and face devoid of emotion. The curtains are moving slowly with the breeze, an open book on his desk with its pages moving as if they were being read by some invisible ghost. The ghost of his sanity, Ryoki thinks it may be.

He thinks of her, as usual; his brain thoroughly invaded with images of the naïve girl that’s turned his world upside down; the slave that has more power over him than any other person. The girl he kissed against her will in that train station, her first kiss given under threat and deceive.

The girl that has made him rethink his ethics.

Ryoki saw her from his window today, walking happily with those ridiculous sandals of hers, the one with a plastic flower glued to the right sandal; handmade he supposes. For once since he forced her into that agreement of theirs, she hadn’t look as if she carried the world on her shoulders; and the curiosity to see beneath that plated skirt was almost overpowering, an urge growing along side the crazy want to feel her skin against his, willing and warm.

His eyes close, and the roof is now just a fact in his brain. He breathes, deeply, and tries to forget about her.

In. (And he imagines her smiling just for him.)

Out. (And he imagines her holding out her hand for him.)

And he gives up, realizes this obsession, this new feeling he still doesn’t want to give a name to, is too strong for his analytical mind. He opens his eyes, and ten minutes later he’s standing in front of Hatsumi’s door, looking straight ahead into the opposite side of the road from when he knows she’ll be coming.

He waits, and when she finally turns up and stands frozen at the sight of him, he takes her hand wordlessly and drags her to the park, caressing her skin with his thumb and lying to himself as to why he is doing it.

Hatsumi doesn’t talk either, but he can feel her questioning gaze on him as he sits on the bench and draws her close, an arm around her (his heart on her) and eyes somewhere else.

He likes touching her, he decides, and when he kisses her, she doesn’t respond but she doesn’t move away. A step forward, and two weeks later of daily walks by the park her mouth opens slightly against his.

This emotion is ridiculous and pointless and silly, but Ryoki can’t help but become addicted to it.