[La Corda D'Oro] Haunted
Mar. 16th, 2010 11:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreHaunted
Author: Amber Michelle //![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
myaru
Rating: T
Theme: n/a
Pairing/Character: Yunoki Azuma/Hino Kahoko
Words: 1800
Notes: I started this for the "luck" theme at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
la_corda_fics, but it doesn't fit the bill. Oh, and it's set after White Day. Most of the time I come up with my own ficverse/timeline in a fandom anyway, but it's worth mentioning.
My sucky titles continue. It'll stop someday, really - I promise.
............................................................................
The cherry blossoms were already falling, and Yunoki Azuma, graduating third year of Seiso Academy, had been staring at the manuscript for his final performance for over an hour, while the wall clock ticked loudly in the background and shouts filtered in through the glass windows of his room at the concert hall. His turn practicing on stage was already over with; Hihara had gone after Yunoki came to pack his flute and music, and two dozen others whose playing wasn't distinctive enough for him to recognize over a speaker. Dust motes danced in the light shafting through the glass and glaring on his papers: Telemann's Fantasia in D Minor, which wasn't too sad, nor very happy, and fit his mood when he thought back on his high school career and what he had to leave behind.
Music, Hihara. Music-- Hino.
Her name shouldn't have made the list. She'd made a bad habit out of appearing where she shouldn't, interfering where she wasn't wanted.
This was twice as hard, because of her.
Azuma was sliding his music into a folder when the sound of Kahoko's voice outside the door made his fingers freeze. The music over the speaker had stopped some time while he was thinking; the clock read three fifteen, and he should have been in his assigned practice room a long time ago. Was she looking for him? No-- Hihara's voice answered. The manuscript crackled and bent between Yunoki's fingers. He dropped it into his briefcase and approached the door.
Sure, if it's for Kanazawa-sensei. A pause, because Kahoko spoke too softly to be understood. Nah, but Amou has been after me all week. Anyway, speaking of Friday... Yunoki yanked the door open.
"I was wondering if you--" Hihara stopped dead, his tan pale for a second, looking yellow, and then his face flushed red. "Y-Yunoki!"
Azuma made himself smile, and wished Amou had been around for once to capture his friend's wide-eyed expression. He twisted the door handle hard. The wood creaked under his weight when he leaned on it. "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?"
No, not really, Kahoko said, at the same time Hihara took a deep breath to say in a rush: I was just going, actually, sorry, bye-- and hurried down the empty hallway with his trumpet case pounding against his back. Kahoko watched him go with her pink lips taking a cute downward turn, and then she looked at the forms in her hands. "Wait!" Her chin snapped up again and she took a step down the hall after him. "You forgot--"
Azuma grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut with his hip. She looked up at him, as clueless as Hihara was a moment ago, with round eyes. "Yunoki, he has to fill this out. Kanazawa said--"
"I'll give it to him." He ignored her attempt to pull free and dragged her over to the table, where his flute case was still open, and the keys still gleaming in the slanting sunlight. "It's something I'm supposed to fill out as well, right? I'll make sure he has it done before class." Red crept into her cheeks when he yanked her closer, spreading to her throat; she ducked her head, looked away, and he saw it tinge her ears pink. He'd always wondered if it was because of her red hair - if maybe it wasn't just a stereotype, that her emotions really did flare up like fire, whether she was angry, hurt, or embarrassed. "Why aren't you practicing?"
Kahoko looked up, her brows knitting, though she immediately looked away again. "Kanazawa-sensei asked me to look for you, and said I might as well give one of these to Hihara too if you were both still here."
So she didn't think to do it herself? She squirmed when his grip tightened and muttered that it hurt-- let go of me-- Azuma took the papers and tossed them onto his briefcase. No, he wouldn't let go of her. If Kahoko haunted him while he played, while he clipped and arranged flowers, when he prepared tea, he would make sure she thought of nothing else but him in return-- whether she was angry or hurt, or flushing that sweet shade of pink, it didn't matter. He leaned sideways against the edge of the table and slid an arm around her waist, clenching his fingers into her coat before he released her arm and rubbed it through the soft wool of her sleeve.
"Kanazawa's laziness is so troublesome sometimes," Azuma said under his breath, looking down at the crown of her head. The sun traced golden highlights on one side, and left the other in shadow, dark, auburn, silky. "You should have come to me first, Kahoko."
Her head jerked aside, so her hair feathered over her shoulder and brushed his fingers. "I don't understand you." The tone of her voice was high and thin, and her fingers curled around his lapel - she probably didn't even realize - to yank slightly, as if to punctuate her point. "You haven't even spoke to me since--" She stopped, and swallowed; the angle of her lashes swept down.
"Since?" Azuma stroked a lock of hair to the curled end. The roof. White Day. That-- was quite a while ago, now that he thought about it. Almost a month had passed. She wouldn't say it directly, of course; Kahoko was remarkably stubborn, determined not to do as she was told, to say his name, to apologize: for that date at the Minato Mirai amusement park she never really invited him to, the concert with Shimizu, the dance with Kaji. "Do you know what those forms are for?" She shook her head, and he adjusted his hold on her waist to rub the small of her back. "One is probably an exit survey. There should be a schedule for our final performances, too. It's almost like the concours - we have to perform according to a theme, find an accompanist from one of the lower grades..."
Kahoko's back arched slightly under his attention, like a cat, her hand a fist around his tie. "It's too bad I don't play the piano."
Azuma lifted both eyebrows. "Really."
Her head snapped up. "No, not really--"
"What makes you think I'd ask you?"
"Nothing!" she said, glaring, her cheeks coloring again. "I meant Hi--"
"Don't finish that sentence," he said softly, hand poised to cover her mouth. She swallowed the words and pulled away as much as he would let her-- a centimeter, maybe an inch. It was obvious she didn't get it - the way her eyebrows dipped down, the way her mouth worked, looked rebellious, his grandmother would say. Azuma had felt the same expression on his own face when she lectured him on the proper conduct of a third son - a third, insignificant son, who must nevertheless show his quality. "Do I have to spell this out for you?"
"Yes!" Kahoko said, hands pushing against his chest. He didn't move. She was weak and small, the perfect size to disappear in his arms. "I can't read your mind. I can't--"
Azuma leaned over her and let his hair slide over his shoulder to hang like a curtain between them and the yellow glow of the window, their proximity alone enough to silence her and send a slight tremor along her arms. For someone who socialized so easily with boys and dared to call them friends, Kahoko looked so shy and insecure - she probably never considered that any of them would try to ask her out, or hold her hand, or run their fingers into her hair and nudge her chin up to kiss her and taste the soft underside of her lip. She wore strawberry lip gloss, and he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo, and the astringent scent of whatever she used on her face. Something more delicate would suit her better - his sister's camellia oil with its orange blossom scent, or his grandmother's rice bran cream, something that would make her complexion shine more than it already did.
He maneuvered her back against the table, so the bite of the edge made her rub up against him, their buttons scraping and her fingers digging into his arms. He grabbed her hips to keep her still, drew back slightly for a breath. Kahoko's lips had blushed redder than her cheeks, swelling slightly, parted so she could breathe, and Azuma couldn't stop staring at them. Voices echoed outside, footsteps, but none of them came near the door. Silent wind shook the branches outside and made shadows dance across the floor in his peripheral vision. He brushed her lower lip with his thumb and bent down again to kiss it. "You're so demanding," he said against her lips, sifting her hair between his fingers, his other hand tracing the curve of her back, down to her hip, up the seam of her coat. Kahoko looked thin, but she was soft, and he wanted to lean into her, feel the cushion of her arms, her breasts, her thighs. "But you're mine, so I can't let you look like an idiot. Next time Hihara tries to ask you out, say no."
Kahoko's eyes widened slightly. "Ask... but why would he do that?"
"Because he likes you." Azuma sighed sharply. "I knew you were dense, but--"
"I'm not dense! How am I supposed to know--"
"Just tell him."
"Why?" She turned her face away. "Why would I want to belong to someone who won't even be seen with me?"
"We'll be seen." He curled a finger under her chin, made her meet his gaze again. "When I take you home, today. When I sit beside you at lunch tomorrow." Azuma lifted an eyebrow. "When I take you to Minato Mirai after graduation. Everybody will be there." Including Hihara, Tsuchiura, Shimizu, maybe even Tsukimori - everyone who had to see them together. Azuma wouldn't want to rub it in their faces or anything. "And you're going to let Hihara know - gently - that you're taken."
Since she couldn't turn away, Kahoko's eyes wandered to the side, fixing on his hair. Her hands spread over his chest. "Hihara... isn't the one I like that way."
He stroked the soft curve of her jaw and smiled. "I know."
.....................................................
I considered appending more to this, but the plotline was basically unrelated (being more about the damage to the Yunoki/Hihara relationship than about Kahoko), and this bit would've felt pasted-on, so to speak. I hate that it's so formulaic, but can only hope I'll break out of that habit once I get used to writing these characters.
Author: Amber Michelle //
myaruRating: T
Theme: n/a
Pairing/Character: Yunoki Azuma/Hino Kahoko
Words: 1800
Notes: I started this for the "luck" theme at
la_corda_fics, but it doesn't fit the bill. Oh, and it's set after White Day. Most of the time I come up with my own ficverse/timeline in a fandom anyway, but it's worth mentioning.My sucky titles continue. It'll stop someday, really - I promise.
............................................................................
The cherry blossoms were already falling, and Yunoki Azuma, graduating third year of Seiso Academy, had been staring at the manuscript for his final performance for over an hour, while the wall clock ticked loudly in the background and shouts filtered in through the glass windows of his room at the concert hall. His turn practicing on stage was already over with; Hihara had gone after Yunoki came to pack his flute and music, and two dozen others whose playing wasn't distinctive enough for him to recognize over a speaker. Dust motes danced in the light shafting through the glass and glaring on his papers: Telemann's Fantasia in D Minor, which wasn't too sad, nor very happy, and fit his mood when he thought back on his high school career and what he had to leave behind.
Music, Hihara. Music-- Hino.
Her name shouldn't have made the list. She'd made a bad habit out of appearing where she shouldn't, interfering where she wasn't wanted.
This was twice as hard, because of her.
Azuma was sliding his music into a folder when the sound of Kahoko's voice outside the door made his fingers freeze. The music over the speaker had stopped some time while he was thinking; the clock read three fifteen, and he should have been in his assigned practice room a long time ago. Was she looking for him? No-- Hihara's voice answered. The manuscript crackled and bent between Yunoki's fingers. He dropped it into his briefcase and approached the door.
Sure, if it's for Kanazawa-sensei. A pause, because Kahoko spoke too softly to be understood. Nah, but Amou has been after me all week. Anyway, speaking of Friday... Yunoki yanked the door open.
"I was wondering if you--" Hihara stopped dead, his tan pale for a second, looking yellow, and then his face flushed red. "Y-Yunoki!"
Azuma made himself smile, and wished Amou had been around for once to capture his friend's wide-eyed expression. He twisted the door handle hard. The wood creaked under his weight when he leaned on it. "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?"
No, not really, Kahoko said, at the same time Hihara took a deep breath to say in a rush: I was just going, actually, sorry, bye-- and hurried down the empty hallway with his trumpet case pounding against his back. Kahoko watched him go with her pink lips taking a cute downward turn, and then she looked at the forms in her hands. "Wait!" Her chin snapped up again and she took a step down the hall after him. "You forgot--"
Azuma grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut with his hip. She looked up at him, as clueless as Hihara was a moment ago, with round eyes. "Yunoki, he has to fill this out. Kanazawa said--"
"I'll give it to him." He ignored her attempt to pull free and dragged her over to the table, where his flute case was still open, and the keys still gleaming in the slanting sunlight. "It's something I'm supposed to fill out as well, right? I'll make sure he has it done before class." Red crept into her cheeks when he yanked her closer, spreading to her throat; she ducked her head, looked away, and he saw it tinge her ears pink. He'd always wondered if it was because of her red hair - if maybe it wasn't just a stereotype, that her emotions really did flare up like fire, whether she was angry, hurt, or embarrassed. "Why aren't you practicing?"
Kahoko looked up, her brows knitting, though she immediately looked away again. "Kanazawa-sensei asked me to look for you, and said I might as well give one of these to Hihara too if you were both still here."
So she didn't think to do it herself? She squirmed when his grip tightened and muttered that it hurt-- let go of me-- Azuma took the papers and tossed them onto his briefcase. No, he wouldn't let go of her. If Kahoko haunted him while he played, while he clipped and arranged flowers, when he prepared tea, he would make sure she thought of nothing else but him in return-- whether she was angry or hurt, or flushing that sweet shade of pink, it didn't matter. He leaned sideways against the edge of the table and slid an arm around her waist, clenching his fingers into her coat before he released her arm and rubbed it through the soft wool of her sleeve.
"Kanazawa's laziness is so troublesome sometimes," Azuma said under his breath, looking down at the crown of her head. The sun traced golden highlights on one side, and left the other in shadow, dark, auburn, silky. "You should have come to me first, Kahoko."
Her head jerked aside, so her hair feathered over her shoulder and brushed his fingers. "I don't understand you." The tone of her voice was high and thin, and her fingers curled around his lapel - she probably didn't even realize - to yank slightly, as if to punctuate her point. "You haven't even spoke to me since--" She stopped, and swallowed; the angle of her lashes swept down.
"Since?" Azuma stroked a lock of hair to the curled end. The roof. White Day. That-- was quite a while ago, now that he thought about it. Almost a month had passed. She wouldn't say it directly, of course; Kahoko was remarkably stubborn, determined not to do as she was told, to say his name, to apologize: for that date at the Minato Mirai amusement park she never really invited him to, the concert with Shimizu, the dance with Kaji. "Do you know what those forms are for?" She shook her head, and he adjusted his hold on her waist to rub the small of her back. "One is probably an exit survey. There should be a schedule for our final performances, too. It's almost like the concours - we have to perform according to a theme, find an accompanist from one of the lower grades..."
Kahoko's back arched slightly under his attention, like a cat, her hand a fist around his tie. "It's too bad I don't play the piano."
Azuma lifted both eyebrows. "Really."
Her head snapped up. "No, not really--"
"What makes you think I'd ask you?"
"Nothing!" she said, glaring, her cheeks coloring again. "I meant Hi--"
"Don't finish that sentence," he said softly, hand poised to cover her mouth. She swallowed the words and pulled away as much as he would let her-- a centimeter, maybe an inch. It was obvious she didn't get it - the way her eyebrows dipped down, the way her mouth worked, looked rebellious, his grandmother would say. Azuma had felt the same expression on his own face when she lectured him on the proper conduct of a third son - a third, insignificant son, who must nevertheless show his quality. "Do I have to spell this out for you?"
"Yes!" Kahoko said, hands pushing against his chest. He didn't move. She was weak and small, the perfect size to disappear in his arms. "I can't read your mind. I can't--"
Azuma leaned over her and let his hair slide over his shoulder to hang like a curtain between them and the yellow glow of the window, their proximity alone enough to silence her and send a slight tremor along her arms. For someone who socialized so easily with boys and dared to call them friends, Kahoko looked so shy and insecure - she probably never considered that any of them would try to ask her out, or hold her hand, or run their fingers into her hair and nudge her chin up to kiss her and taste the soft underside of her lip. She wore strawberry lip gloss, and he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo, and the astringent scent of whatever she used on her face. Something more delicate would suit her better - his sister's camellia oil with its orange blossom scent, or his grandmother's rice bran cream, something that would make her complexion shine more than it already did.
He maneuvered her back against the table, so the bite of the edge made her rub up against him, their buttons scraping and her fingers digging into his arms. He grabbed her hips to keep her still, drew back slightly for a breath. Kahoko's lips had blushed redder than her cheeks, swelling slightly, parted so she could breathe, and Azuma couldn't stop staring at them. Voices echoed outside, footsteps, but none of them came near the door. Silent wind shook the branches outside and made shadows dance across the floor in his peripheral vision. He brushed her lower lip with his thumb and bent down again to kiss it. "You're so demanding," he said against her lips, sifting her hair between his fingers, his other hand tracing the curve of her back, down to her hip, up the seam of her coat. Kahoko looked thin, but she was soft, and he wanted to lean into her, feel the cushion of her arms, her breasts, her thighs. "But you're mine, so I can't let you look like an idiot. Next time Hihara tries to ask you out, say no."
Kahoko's eyes widened slightly. "Ask... but why would he do that?"
"Because he likes you." Azuma sighed sharply. "I knew you were dense, but--"
"I'm not dense! How am I supposed to know--"
"Just tell him."
"Why?" She turned her face away. "Why would I want to belong to someone who won't even be seen with me?"
"We'll be seen." He curled a finger under her chin, made her meet his gaze again. "When I take you home, today. When I sit beside you at lunch tomorrow." Azuma lifted an eyebrow. "When I take you to Minato Mirai after graduation. Everybody will be there." Including Hihara, Tsuchiura, Shimizu, maybe even Tsukimori - everyone who had to see them together. Azuma wouldn't want to rub it in their faces or anything. "And you're going to let Hihara know - gently - that you're taken."
Since she couldn't turn away, Kahoko's eyes wandered to the side, fixing on his hair. Her hands spread over his chest. "Hihara... isn't the one I like that way."
He stroked the soft curve of her jaw and smiled. "I know."
.....................................................
I considered appending more to this, but the plotline was basically unrelated (being more about the damage to the Yunoki/Hihara relationship than about Kahoko), and this bit would've felt pasted-on, so to speak. I hate that it's so formulaic, but can only hope I'll break out of that habit once I get used to writing these characters.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
O_O
Date: 2010-04-15 01:23 pm (UTC)A befitting sequel to White Day. Their kiss in this one seems to be a lot more passionate and is definitely more detailed. *fangirl moment*
*grinning and thumbs-up*
Throughly enjoyable, and wonderfully written.
Shall this make it to ff.net? I would love to see it there. ^^
Keep up the good work! ^__^
Re: O_O
Date: 2010-04-15 11:25 pm (UTC)No, this probably won't make it to FF.Net, but I'm working on a story that takes place a bit later, and that one will. There are things I really don't like about this one - it might just be me, of course, but since I'm not satisfied with it, it stays hidden here.