rlm@0: title:When
rlm@0: anime:Noir
rlm@0: author:Immo (pronounced eye-moe)
rlm@0: E-mail: immo@hamena.org 
rlm@0: rating:G. Wow, eh? :D
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: Noir fanfiction again. Mireille and Kirika. Not really yuri, it just
rlm@0: depends on how you read
rlm@0: into it. This is after the last episode
rlm@0: *SPOILER*providingtheysurvived*SPOILER* (not really a
rlm@0: spoiler, but whatever). Yeah NOIR!!!!
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: "You got a haircut." Dark eyes played across the blonde's features.
rlm@0: Mireille touched 
rlm@0: her hair, self-consciously. Strands of silky, spun gold. Just a
rlm@0: little trim, that was all she
rlm@0: got. Barely noticeably. But she noticed.
rlm@0: "It looks nice." Kirika turned away, to look back out the window.
rlm@0: When did this happen?
rlm@0: Mireille ducked her face down, to hide a light blush that sprung to
rlm@0: her cheeks at the
rlm@0: compliment. When had anyone noticed the slight changes?
rlm@0: When she changed outfits, Kirika would notice, give that once over
rlm@0: that was
rlm@0: altogether exciting, yet dreaded. Exciting because of that little
rlm@0: thrill of anticipation from
rlm@0: a little compliment. Dread, that the compliment wouldn't come. When
rlm@0: had Kirika's opinion
rlm@0: become so important?
rlm@0: Mireille pondered, and sat in front her laptop, reviewing the newest
rlm@0: assignment for
rlm@0: Noir, yet not really. Kirika was already asleep, and Mireille
rlm@0: imagined she could hear the
rlm@0: girl's soft breathing above the hum of the screen in front of her.
rlm@0: "You should go to sleep soon."
rlm@0: The voice startled her, yet didn't startle her at all. It was
rlm@0: comforting, sudden, but
rlm@0: welcome. It was so long since she had someone care about how late
rlm@0: she stayed up. And she
rlm@0: knew, Mireille knew if she stayed up just a bit longer--
rlm@0: Engrossed in her work, she looked up and saw Kirika standing across
rlm@0: from her,
rlm@0: studying the blonde.
rlm@0: "Mireille,"
rlm@0: When had anybody been able to do that, to just say her name, and she
rlm@0: would submit to
rlm@0: their demands?
rlm@0: Mireille shut down the laptop, and smiled at Kirika. They slept in
rlm@0: the same bed,
rlm@0: Kirika on one side, Mireille on the other. Both of them were awake,
rlm@0: listening to each other
rlm@0: breathing in the quiet of the room.
rlm@0: Sometimes, they would hear a car pass by outside.
rlm@0: Sometimes, they would hear, somewhere nearby, a dog obeying some
rlm@0: primal instinct it
rlm@0: still held after centuries of domestication, howling at the sky.
rlm@0: Sometimes... all they heard was the sound of each other breathing.
rlm@0: And when had either of them enjoyed something like that? Enjoyed
rlm@0: sharing the magical
rlm@0: silence that the darkness brought? The simple joy of knowing someone
rlm@0: slept beside you?
rlm@0: Enjoyed the fact that, waking up would mean waking up to someone...
rlm@0: In the morning, Mireille would make breakfast, and Kirika would stay
rlm@0: in bed, awake,
rlm@0: eyes staring blankly at the plain plaster ceiling.
rlm@0: Mireille would hum a tune that she had heard the other day, and when
rlm@0: Kirika finally
rlm@0: came to the breakfast table, they would find that their tunes
rlm@0: matched, were in sync.
rlm@0: When have you sung a song, and found someone singing it with you, at
rlm@0: the exact same
rlm@0: time?
rlm@0: When were words not neccessary to know how each felt about the other?
rlm@0: When had a feeling of... belonging ensnared the two in its grasp?
rlm@0: Sometimes... sometimes...
rlm@0: Merielle would disappear, and Kirika would wait patiently for her to
rlm@0: come back home.
rlm@0: Home. Was that was it was? When had the tiny apartment, with the
rlm@0: green plants kept alive by
rlm@0: dutiful care, become home? When had that pool table that served as a
rlm@0: desk become the familiar
rlm@0: oddity to Kirika?
rlm@0: And when did it become apparent to the russet-haired girl that the
rlm@0: rush of...
rlm@0: something, was relief? The rush of relief, that came up everytime
rlm@0: Mereille came home. Kirika
rlm@0: would almost quicken her walk towards Mireille. Stopping abruptly,
rlm@0: almost too close to
rlm@0: Mireille, a look of... something in her eyes.
rlm@0: "Welcome home."
rlm@0: And Mireille would smile. A tiny smile, just the barest upturning of
rlm@0: the corners of
rlm@0: her mouth. A smile, pink and glossy, her eyes showing that, despite
rlm@0: the small smile, she was
rlm@0: grinning inside. Beaming. Full-fledged joy.
rlm@0: "I got you something."
rlm@0: When had the giving of something involved so much joy?
rlm@0: Mireille held a paper bag in her arms, and a snow-white kitten,
rlm@0: batted the edges of
rlm@0: the bag, stared at Kirika curiously.
rlm@0: When had gifts like this, meant more than a gift? When had it been
rlm@0: so important to
rlm@0: be able to please the other.
rlm@0: When had things stopped becoming self-centered, and became other-
rlm@0: centered?
rlm@0: Mireille took the tiny kitten out of the brown paper bag, cradled
rlm@0: it, let the bag
rlm@0: fall to the floor. Holding out the tiny thing to Kirikia, Kirika
rlm@0: smiled. She took the gift,
rlm@0: and in that brief instance, their fingertips brushed each others.
rlm@0: And when had either of them felt a brief, calm pleasure course
rlm@0: through them? Felt the
rlm@0: pleasure of knowing that this person who had just touched them, had
rlm@0: touched them in many more
rlm@0: ways then before? Touching that exceeded the physical boundaries.
rlm@0: When had silence been enough to please.
rlm@0: When did the feelings transcend the reality of the body?
rlm@0: The looks, every precious few words between them, all treasured and
rlm@0: placed together
rlm@0: in a place both of them could reach again and again for reassurance
rlm@0: when they were lost in
rlm@0: this world.
rlm@0: A world full of power-hungry forces that threatened to tear them
rlm@0: asunder, to rend
rlm@0: them into memories, and the only ones who would miss them would be
rlm@0: the kitten, and maybe the
rlm@0: green plants flourishing by the windowsill.
rlm@0: Watching Kirika play with the kitten, teasing the small ball of fur
rlm@0: with a cat toy,
rlm@0: a little stuffed mouse on string, Mireille watched, contented that
rlm@0: Kirika was contented.
rlm@0: Mireille didn't really like cats.
rlm@0: When had the blonde been able to tolerate felines for Kirika?
rlm@0: The day passed, dinner was eaten.
rlm@0: When had dinner become so much less lonely?
rlm@0: And they slept, while the kitten purred, and slept in between the two.
rlm@0: When did they stop seeing the world without each other?
rlm@0: When did Noir, revenge, and convenience, these explanations, been
rlm@0: thrown out the 
rlm@0: window as explanations for the two remaining together?
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: Then, a whispered question, in the still of the night, with just the
rlm@0: two of them
rlm@0: breathing. Three now. A purring kitten. Three, then. A question,
rlm@0: spoken by one, echoed in the
rlm@0: other's mind.
rlm@0: "When did you become my world?"
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: Note: Woah, huh? Woah. I dunno. Noir. Cool stuff. I was just
rlm@0: thinking about it, going through
rlm@0: some time. My friend's in the hospital, and (knock on wood) I was
rlm@0: thinking what would happen
rlm@0: if he never gets better. Scary thought. Then my thoughts drifted to
rlm@0: my friends, and I don't
rlm@0: know what I could've done without them, through everything I've been
rlm@0: through. When had they
rlm@0: become the things that made up my world? Why can I not imagine me
rlm@0: without them? :P Sorta
rlm@0: pathetic, but I dunno. I'm kinda sad.