and She Said (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bloodied_quill) wrote,@ 2006-05-05 01:36:00 |
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Title: Padlock
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: dark
Rating: PG-13
Date: May 4, 2006
Written for![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
30_kisses
Theme: 10 - #10
Pairing: hyde and Megumi (L'Arc~en~Ciel)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, hyde, Megumi, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: Plot outline requested byhoyah
Word Count: 968
POV: First person (hyde)
Warning: If you're looking for the happier side of hyde x megumi, scroll down to another story on this journal. This fic demonizes the poor woman.
It’s windy. It’s peaceful up here, and quiet except for the soft rush of the air past my ears. Thin wisps of smoke issue from my lips and drift in lazy paterns…
Those things will kill you one day.
Even up here in what I thought was a sanctuary, her voice reaches me. Is it really that ingrained? Is it really that inescapable?
One step forward.
I never thought I’d meet her. I wanted to, sure, but who didn’t want to get up close and personal with a woman like her? So what if there were plenty of fangirls who would have said something like that about me; all the hyperactive teenage adoration in the world wouldn’t get me any closer to seeing her.
I couldn’t help but turn into a nervous, giddy fanboy when the powers that be put us on the same show, in the same room, at the same table, with giggling, unhelpful band mates and highly amused hosts.
If I believed in things like that, I’d have thought there was a spark when I touched her hand. I remember watching the tape of the show and realizing I’d pulled away as though there really had been one. I needed to watch that tape every day for a week before I could believe it was real.
Two steps forward.
The view up here is nothing special, but it’s still nice. All there is to see, mostly, is other rooftops, and the multicolor specks I know are cars. Silver like mine, green like hers…but the best to ever grace this lot has always been when tetsu visits. That flashy pink Porsche makes me laugh every time. She hates when I have friends over. She doesn’t usually say it, but the look on her face is unmistakable.
Three steps forward.
It’s funny, because it’s those friends who pushed us together. I was too shy. Too nervous. I’ll never live down my reaction when they told me they’d invited her to a concert and the closing party…
Refusing to believe in love doesn’t actually do any good for one’s nerves.
She was stunning in a casual dress, and I could have practically crawled out of whatever it was my stylist had shoved at me in my state of junior-high regression.
Four steps forward.
How many times have I come up here just to look at the sky? It’s not something I can explain very well, when I try, but it’s refreshing. There’s hardly ever anyone up here. Most people in the building have never gone looking for the roof access. Which really ought to be locked, when I think about it. There isn’t even a guardrail, much less a proper wall. Just a straight drop. I came up here one night and found some high school boys drinking—I stuck around against their rude protests to watch that none of them fell.
Five steps forward.
She almost fell on our first “date”. And it was almost funny. I thought I was nervous, but she showed me how nervous was done. But I minded my manners, didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. I reassured her that she looked lovely even while doing so (I know it was corny, but she really appreciated it) and we forgot about it.
Six steps forward.
I’ve forgotten a lot of things over the years and then remembered them at the strangest times. Moments on stage, moments with friends, moments with family, moments with her that were so trivial then but somehow important later. Like now. Looking down at my cigarette as the drizzle puts out the near half that was left, I can’t help but remember some strange moment in Taiwan, filming that ridiculous vampire movie and sweltering in the heat. I never regretted giving in and signing on, but she never forgave me. I don’t know what about it offended her so much. But it did. Just like my smoking offends her.
They’re bad for you. They’re bad for the baby.
Seven steps forward.
The baby. He’s not a baby anymore. And I didn’t smoke in the house. I didn’t need to be told not to; I wouldn’t have. Even if I make an unsatisfactory husband, I try my best as a father. It’s funny. Even to myself, I don’t seem like the type to be one. But there’s nothing to convince you that love is real quite like seeing the woman you married holding the child that is both hers and your own.
She doesn’t think much of my parenting. I sort of think it’s because she wants complete control, and she’s certainly quite capable, but why should I have to step aside? Why should I be second best? Why am I wrong?
Eight steps forward.
Why am I always wrong? I wasn’t wrong when I asked her to marry me, when she said yes. I wasn’t wrong with the kiss that sealed a promise of forever. I wasn’t wrong…
I’m not wrong, now.
Nine steps forward.
I could stand here for hours.
I could look down at the parking lot, up at the sky, out at the other buildings, and not move an inch.
I could remember ever thing I’ve ever found pleasure in and every sting she’s left scarred into me.
I could stand here and wait until I could stand no more, and let the placement of my toes decide which way I’d fall.
I could step one more time.
I could be wrong.
Ten steps.
Ten steps to infamy.
Ten steps to learning how to fly.
Ten steps to freedom from a ring I never thought I’d see as a shackle.
One step back to sturdy ground and one about-face back to the door that will be padlocked by tomorrow if the landlord knows what’s good for him.
The request:
hoyah - Do the #10. hyde leaps off a building, each step towards the edge (nine steps until he jumps--that being the final step off the building) recalling a memory. Memories should go in chronological order, from his start with Megumi to the thing that ruined their relationship to the last time he saw her. And then WHOOSH. Flying hyde.
8D;; Don't kill me...
bloodied_quill - I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not going to write it, either.
His tenth step is going to be backwards; I can't kill hyde in a fic like this. Granted, he hanged himself in my first30_kisses fic but...I can't.
please comment if you read.
Requests are open
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: dark
Rating: PG-13
Date: May 4, 2006
Written for
30_kissesTheme: 10 - #10
Pairing: hyde and Megumi (L'Arc~en~Ciel)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, hyde, Megumi, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: Plot outline requested by
hoyahWord Count: 968
POV: First person (hyde)
Warning: If you're looking for the happier side of hyde x megumi, scroll down to another story on this journal. This fic demonizes the poor woman.
It’s windy. It’s peaceful up here, and quiet except for the soft rush of the air past my ears. Thin wisps of smoke issue from my lips and drift in lazy paterns…
Those things will kill you one day.
Even up here in what I thought was a sanctuary, her voice reaches me. Is it really that ingrained? Is it really that inescapable?
One step forward.
I never thought I’d meet her. I wanted to, sure, but who didn’t want to get up close and personal with a woman like her? So what if there were plenty of fangirls who would have said something like that about me; all the hyperactive teenage adoration in the world wouldn’t get me any closer to seeing her.
I couldn’t help but turn into a nervous, giddy fanboy when the powers that be put us on the same show, in the same room, at the same table, with giggling, unhelpful band mates and highly amused hosts.
If I believed in things like that, I’d have thought there was a spark when I touched her hand. I remember watching the tape of the show and realizing I’d pulled away as though there really had been one. I needed to watch that tape every day for a week before I could believe it was real.
Two steps forward.
The view up here is nothing special, but it’s still nice. All there is to see, mostly, is other rooftops, and the multicolor specks I know are cars. Silver like mine, green like hers…but the best to ever grace this lot has always been when tetsu visits. That flashy pink Porsche makes me laugh every time. She hates when I have friends over. She doesn’t usually say it, but the look on her face is unmistakable.
Three steps forward.
It’s funny, because it’s those friends who pushed us together. I was too shy. Too nervous. I’ll never live down my reaction when they told me they’d invited her to a concert and the closing party…
Refusing to believe in love doesn’t actually do any good for one’s nerves.
She was stunning in a casual dress, and I could have practically crawled out of whatever it was my stylist had shoved at me in my state of junior-high regression.
Four steps forward.
How many times have I come up here just to look at the sky? It’s not something I can explain very well, when I try, but it’s refreshing. There’s hardly ever anyone up here. Most people in the building have never gone looking for the roof access. Which really ought to be locked, when I think about it. There isn’t even a guardrail, much less a proper wall. Just a straight drop. I came up here one night and found some high school boys drinking—I stuck around against their rude protests to watch that none of them fell.
Five steps forward.
She almost fell on our first “date”. And it was almost funny. I thought I was nervous, but she showed me how nervous was done. But I minded my manners, didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. I reassured her that she looked lovely even while doing so (I know it was corny, but she really appreciated it) and we forgot about it.
Six steps forward.
I’ve forgotten a lot of things over the years and then remembered them at the strangest times. Moments on stage, moments with friends, moments with family, moments with her that were so trivial then but somehow important later. Like now. Looking down at my cigarette as the drizzle puts out the near half that was left, I can’t help but remember some strange moment in Taiwan, filming that ridiculous vampire movie and sweltering in the heat. I never regretted giving in and signing on, but she never forgave me. I don’t know what about it offended her so much. But it did. Just like my smoking offends her.
They’re bad for you. They’re bad for the baby.
Seven steps forward.
The baby. He’s not a baby anymore. And I didn’t smoke in the house. I didn’t need to be told not to; I wouldn’t have. Even if I make an unsatisfactory husband, I try my best as a father. It’s funny. Even to myself, I don’t seem like the type to be one. But there’s nothing to convince you that love is real quite like seeing the woman you married holding the child that is both hers and your own.
She doesn’t think much of my parenting. I sort of think it’s because she wants complete control, and she’s certainly quite capable, but why should I have to step aside? Why should I be second best? Why am I wrong?
Eight steps forward.
Why am I always wrong? I wasn’t wrong when I asked her to marry me, when she said yes. I wasn’t wrong with the kiss that sealed a promise of forever. I wasn’t wrong…
I’m not wrong, now.
Nine steps forward.
I could stand here for hours.
I could look down at the parking lot, up at the sky, out at the other buildings, and not move an inch.
I could remember ever thing I’ve ever found pleasure in and every sting she’s left scarred into me.
I could stand here and wait until I could stand no more, and let the placement of my toes decide which way I’d fall.
I could step one more time.
I could be wrong.
Ten steps.
Ten steps to infamy.
Ten steps to learning how to fly.
Ten steps to freedom from a ring I never thought I’d see as a shackle.
One step back to sturdy ground and one about-face back to the door that will be padlocked by tomorrow if the landlord knows what’s good for him.
The request:
hoyah - Do the #10. hyde leaps off a building, each step towards the edge (nine steps until he jumps--that being the final step off the building) recalling a memory. Memories should go in chronological order, from his start with Megumi to the thing that ruined their relationship to the last time he saw her. And then WHOOSH. Flying hyde.8D;; Don't kill me...
bloodied_quill - I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not going to write it, either.His tenth step is going to be backwards; I can't kill hyde in a fic like this. Granted, he hanged himself in my first
30_kisses fic but...I can't.please comment if you read.
Requests are open
