diff stories/noir-when.txt @ 0:ed1308d04df2 moonlitnights

[svn r1] initial import
author rlm
date Fri, 19 Feb 2010 06:24:59 -0500
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     1.1 --- /dev/null	Thu Jan 01 00:00:00 1970 +0000
     1.2 +++ b/stories/noir-when.txt	Fri Feb 19 06:24:59 2010 -0500
     1.3 @@ -0,0 +1,161 @@
     1.4 +title:When
     1.5 +anime:Noir
     1.6 +author:Immo (pronounced eye-moe)
     1.7 +E-mail: immo@hamena.org 
     1.8 +rating:G. Wow, eh? :D
     1.9 +
    1.10 +Noir fanfiction again. Mireille and Kirika. Not really yuri, it just
    1.11 +depends on how you read
    1.12 +into it. This is after the last episode
    1.13 +*SPOILER*providingtheysurvived*SPOILER* (not really a
    1.14 +spoiler, but whatever). Yeah NOIR!!!!
    1.15 +
    1.16 +
    1.17 +"You got a haircut." Dark eyes played across the blonde's features.
    1.18 +Mireille touched 
    1.19 +her hair, self-consciously. Strands of silky, spun gold. Just a
    1.20 +little trim, that was all she
    1.21 +got. Barely noticeably. But she noticed.
    1.22 +"It looks nice." Kirika turned away, to look back out the window.
    1.23 +When did this happen?
    1.24 +Mireille ducked her face down, to hide a light blush that sprung to
    1.25 +her cheeks at the
    1.26 +compliment. When had anyone noticed the slight changes?
    1.27 +When she changed outfits, Kirika would notice, give that once over
    1.28 +that was
    1.29 +altogether exciting, yet dreaded. Exciting because of that little
    1.30 +thrill of anticipation from
    1.31 +a little compliment. Dread, that the compliment wouldn't come. When
    1.32 +had Kirika's opinion
    1.33 +become so important?
    1.34 +Mireille pondered, and sat in front her laptop, reviewing the newest
    1.35 +assignment for
    1.36 +Noir, yet not really. Kirika was already asleep, and Mireille
    1.37 +imagined she could hear the
    1.38 +girl's soft breathing above the hum of the screen in front of her.
    1.39 +"You should go to sleep soon."
    1.40 +The voice startled her, yet didn't startle her at all. It was
    1.41 +comforting, sudden, but
    1.42 +welcome. It was so long since she had someone care about how late
    1.43 +she stayed up. And she
    1.44 +knew, Mireille knew if she stayed up just a bit longer--
    1.45 +Engrossed in her work, she looked up and saw Kirika standing across
    1.46 +from her,
    1.47 +studying the blonde.
    1.48 +"Mireille,"
    1.49 +When had anybody been able to do that, to just say her name, and she
    1.50 +would submit to
    1.51 +their demands?
    1.52 +Mireille shut down the laptop, and smiled at Kirika. They slept in
    1.53 +the same bed,
    1.54 +Kirika on one side, Mireille on the other. Both of them were awake,
    1.55 +listening to each other
    1.56 +breathing in the quiet of the room.
    1.57 +Sometimes, they would hear a car pass by outside.
    1.58 +Sometimes, they would hear, somewhere nearby, a dog obeying some
    1.59 +primal instinct it
    1.60 +still held after centuries of domestication, howling at the sky.
    1.61 +Sometimes... all they heard was the sound of each other breathing.
    1.62 +And when had either of them enjoyed something like that? Enjoyed
    1.63 +sharing the magical
    1.64 +silence that the darkness brought? The simple joy of knowing someone
    1.65 +slept beside you?
    1.66 +Enjoyed the fact that, waking up would mean waking up to someone...
    1.67 +In the morning, Mireille would make breakfast, and Kirika would stay
    1.68 +in bed, awake,
    1.69 +eyes staring blankly at the plain plaster ceiling.
    1.70 +Mireille would hum a tune that she had heard the other day, and when
    1.71 +Kirika finally
    1.72 +came to the breakfast table, they would find that their tunes
    1.73 +matched, were in sync.
    1.74 +When have you sung a song, and found someone singing it with you, at
    1.75 +the exact same
    1.76 +time?
    1.77 +When were words not neccessary to know how each felt about the other?
    1.78 +When had a feeling of... belonging ensnared the two in its grasp?
    1.79 +Sometimes... sometimes...
    1.80 +Merielle would disappear, and Kirika would wait patiently for her to
    1.81 +come back home.
    1.82 +Home. Was that was it was? When had the tiny apartment, with the
    1.83 +green plants kept alive by
    1.84 +dutiful care, become home? When had that pool table that served as a
    1.85 +desk become the familiar
    1.86 +oddity to Kirika?
    1.87 +And when did it become apparent to the russet-haired girl that the
    1.88 +rush of...
    1.89 +something, was relief? The rush of relief, that came up everytime
    1.90 +Mereille came home. Kirika
    1.91 +would almost quicken her walk towards Mireille. Stopping abruptly,
    1.92 +almost too close to
    1.93 +Mireille, a look of... something in her eyes.
    1.94 +"Welcome home."
    1.95 +And Mireille would smile. A tiny smile, just the barest upturning of
    1.96 +the corners of
    1.97 +her mouth. A smile, pink and glossy, her eyes showing that, despite
    1.98 +the small smile, she was
    1.99 +grinning inside. Beaming. Full-fledged joy.
   1.100 +"I got you something."
   1.101 +When had the giving of something involved so much joy?
   1.102 +Mireille held a paper bag in her arms, and a snow-white kitten,
   1.103 +batted the edges of
   1.104 +the bag, stared at Kirika curiously.
   1.105 +When had gifts like this, meant more than a gift? When had it been
   1.106 +so important to
   1.107 +be able to please the other.
   1.108 +When had things stopped becoming self-centered, and became other-
   1.109 +centered?
   1.110 +Mireille took the tiny kitten out of the brown paper bag, cradled
   1.111 +it, let the bag
   1.112 +fall to the floor. Holding out the tiny thing to Kirikia, Kirika
   1.113 +smiled. She took the gift,
   1.114 +and in that brief instance, their fingertips brushed each others.
   1.115 +And when had either of them felt a brief, calm pleasure course
   1.116 +through them? Felt the
   1.117 +pleasure of knowing that this person who had just touched them, had
   1.118 +touched them in many more
   1.119 +ways then before? Touching that exceeded the physical boundaries.
   1.120 +When had silence been enough to please.
   1.121 +When did the feelings transcend the reality of the body?
   1.122 +The looks, every precious few words between them, all treasured and
   1.123 +placed together
   1.124 +in a place both of them could reach again and again for reassurance
   1.125 +when they were lost in
   1.126 +this world.
   1.127 +A world full of power-hungry forces that threatened to tear them
   1.128 +asunder, to rend
   1.129 +them into memories, and the only ones who would miss them would be
   1.130 +the kitten, and maybe the
   1.131 +green plants flourishing by the windowsill.
   1.132 +Watching Kirika play with the kitten, teasing the small ball of fur
   1.133 +with a cat toy,
   1.134 +a little stuffed mouse on string, Mireille watched, contented that
   1.135 +Kirika was contented.
   1.136 +Mireille didn't really like cats.
   1.137 +When had the blonde been able to tolerate felines for Kirika?
   1.138 +The day passed, dinner was eaten.
   1.139 +When had dinner become so much less lonely?
   1.140 +And they slept, while the kitten purred, and slept in between the two.
   1.141 +When did they stop seeing the world without each other?
   1.142 +When did Noir, revenge, and convenience, these explanations, been
   1.143 +thrown out the 
   1.144 +window as explanations for the two remaining together?
   1.145 +
   1.146 +Then, a whispered question, in the still of the night, with just the
   1.147 +two of them
   1.148 +breathing. Three now. A purring kitten. Three, then. A question,
   1.149 +spoken by one, echoed in the
   1.150 +other's mind.
   1.151 +"When did you become my world?"
   1.152 +
   1.153 +
   1.154 +Note: Woah, huh? Woah. I dunno. Noir. Cool stuff. I was just
   1.155 +thinking about it, going through
   1.156 +some time. My friend's in the hospital, and (knock on wood) I was
   1.157 +thinking what would happen
   1.158 +if he never gets better. Scary thought. Then my thoughts drifted to
   1.159 +my friends, and I don't
   1.160 +know what I could've done without them, through everything I've been
   1.161 +through. When had they
   1.162 +become the things that made up my world? Why can I not imagine me
   1.163 +without them? :P Sorta
   1.164 +pathetic, but I dunno. I'm kinda sad.
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