Iām allergic almost to everything I eat. Old-style meatballs only with fine zucchini sauce, beef meat, bread crumbles, salt, pepper and parsley are the ones that keep me alive.
How is the right time important for love? Why are people in love often apart? Why is caring so underrated? Why does age difference feels inconsistent at times? Why is this feeling of craving someone so intoxicating? Why do signals have to be so confused and unclear? Why does all the week become meaningless if I know I won't be seeing you? Why the fuck is everything so messed up?
Ā°she had it oh-down-so-hard she coudlnāt wait for her next time with him. She couldnāt know what to expect...or what to hope...but she felt the pull and it was new, and beuatiful and funny.
But deep inside the very image of her real soulmate was marked in her flesh, so much that she only had to think about it to break her hidden, luminous smileĀ°
Ā°Music had always been her everything. She neednāt to show off or something. She just breathed it with her every second of life. Then he came. He had a heavenly gift and wore his heart on his sleeve. Before she could even realize it, she fell so hard for him she couldnāt focus her mind on anything else. It was apparently wrong, it had a bad timing and bad coincidences. It was going to be a complete and yet NECESSARY disaster.Ā°
Language: English
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: T
Genre: Drama/Hurt/Comfort
Words: 1,181
Disclaimers: All the characters depicted are JKR's property and I do not gain anything from this worthless scribbling
Authorās Notes: I cannot imagine a world without Snape and in fact I kept imagining him alive after Hogwarts Battle even after all this years.
Another sunny day cast its light over walls rubbles and pavements ruins, rays gleaming hopefully through holes and layers of dust.
The air all around smelled like summer, faint scents of heating earth and growing grass, cheerful chirps and clear blue sky.
The-boy-who-lived-twice sat speechless on the past ghost of a staircase, the castle around him gloomy though being filtered with rays of light.
A faint, shy trace of victory amongst the empty spaces, the strong overwhelming power of sorrow filling all the rest.
It had been seven days.
One very week, indeed.
No one really spoke, everybody was scattered, over Hogwarts lands and far away, the Wizarding World had been turned upside down.
But the lonely boy at the end of the staircase, crooking and grasping his own knees - his knuckles dead white - couldn't manage to cram everything together on his poor human brain.
Nobody was there with him. He chose to be distant. A few ones tried to get close in the last days, but he hardly spoke, barely conscious of the others all around him.
It was all about something he wasn't figuring out at all...after all the running, the bleeding, the thinking, the exposing, the bearing...his brain was worn out.
Empty.
Absolutely deprived of energy.
His eyes had started seeing dimmed colours, his tongue savoring insipid tastes, his voice using toneless, half-witted words, his skin uncaring of being naked or covered.
So, dazed, he watched his hands trailing invisible marks over the warm grass, waiting for someone to call everyone inside for lunch...elves were not to stop their duties, even in all that mayhem.
He had decided to bury every single dead with his own hands - no magic, no sir, there had been too much of it - and he started thinking about the three poor third year Ravenclaws he would have taken care of that afternoon.
A faint rustle and some few uncertain steps, and he lifted up his head.
On the other side, across the courtyard, he saw a dark tall figure standing.
The man leant over the rests of a mighty smoky wall, a bit panting, only his ghost-like features emerging from the black constriction of his prim, dark enclosing robes.
They locked their glances at midair and the boy felt his face reddening under the piercing dark look of the man.
So there he was, saved by Kreacher skillful hands and brought back from the land of the dead. Bones and flash of a true fighter, the cumbersome, unwilling half-good man. The one everyone had hated. The man he himself used to be furious with.
Maybe - thought the boy - the other wasn't meant to be alive at all, there had been a huge mistake; maybe he was tired and had waited nothing but his death for all these years.
But the boy wouldn't have left him there, bleeding, crying, showing for once his TRUE, deep, moving loyalty.
Nonetheless, waiting for the other man's judgment had spelt out his last days like a mute, unwanted sorcery. He couldnāt move. He couldnāt think. Not before this last moment of confrontation.
The man started limping towards him, slowly, and suddenly the courtyard seemed an enormous pool of unsaid thoughts engulfing around them.
The boy felt the man's magic frizzling all around them, mingling with his own, being so pathetically protective and welcoming, so amazingly warm and caring.
After all the hate, the spiteful words, the secrets and the sacrifices...Tsk āĀ the boy snapped - how could he have been so moronic? How couldnāt he noticed?
The greenish flash of his eyes looked away, trembling with the idea of having hurt someone so dedicated, suffering and strong.
He knew he had been a mere hoax, a gleaming banner for an entangled war, a reproachful mass of lies piled on in almost eighteen years of misunderstandings.
He was no hero.
The man now standing menacingly in front of him, instead, was a true one.
He sighed. He was insignificant, awfully older than his young age, not even worthy of being near the man.
He buried his eyes on the ground and felt all the weight of his now intolerable flaws, just as small as a tiny grain of sand.
- The desert dunes wouldn't exist without tiny grains of sand.- stated the man with his deep, velvety voice, a bit scratched due to his throat wound.
The boy shuddered but did not dare to lift up his eyes.
He hated his pity.
The air around him frizzled again, and something like an invisible plume danced carelessly insight his own brain.
- I see. Stubborn as usual.- said the greatĀ Legilimens, and the boy felt even more embarrassed. Still, he had no will to useĀ OcclumancyĀ at all, on the contrary, he prided himself with the right of not being cautious anymore.
He had had enough of every little thing.
The man sighed, probably perceiving also this boy's difficult state of mind, but didn't care to add anything.
He reached out his elegant hand to the seated boy and spoke again.
- It's time for lunch.-
The boy finally looked up at him.
His aged, pointed face; his raven-black, unkempt hair; his crooked awkward nose and his intimidating shadowy eyes.
Who that man was, the boy really didn't know anymore.
He tentatively grabbed the hand and stood up, careful not to burden too much on the wounded man.
They were close, now, and the boy saw something different in the man's features.
It was like their lines were no more stern and harsh, no more crossed and constantly tense. I was like they now were a bit relaxed, smoother.
And the man's eyes, too, seemed time-worn but different, gleaming mildly with a sparkle that the boy wasnāt still able to recognize.
He let out a thoughtful gush of air, only partially aware that he hadn't been breathing properly in the last few days.
Then, driven but some kind of unbridgeable sense of loss and abandon, he moved towards the man's chest, bathing himself inside the funny coziness of his aura.
He sensed the warmth of life against his body and realized how dull and forgotten of everything he had been for days, weeks, months. In a moment, he realized he was thirsty, hungry, shifty, moody, needyā¦and so, so incredibly happy.
The man, in fact, slowly enclosed him with his shaking arms, without even saying a single word, as the boy rested the scarred forehead on his shoulder.
Their magical powers were still growing together, mixing and burning. When they untied themselves, they stared astounded one another and then, silently, went back to the castle. The boy lead the way, a different sprint in his pace, and the man followed.
Ā° As the city kept spiralling into the hard lights of the night, a solitary and unseen stroller enjoyed his tasty and sunset-time on one of the most famous spot in the world. āLet them run at their own pace, because Iāve got mineā.Ā°
Language: English
Fandom: Ā Slam Dunk
Pairing: Sakuragi/Rukawa
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Words: 3,080
Disclaimers :Ā Inoue-Sama's characters, not mine.
Author's Notes:Ā It seems, after all these years, nothing has really changed. Ā it doesn't matter if it's not young anymore. If your love has survived until now, you should equally care about it for the future. Time is so relevant that sometimes it becomes completely unimportant.
Homecoming
The ice covering the roads slides under his steady feet as he mindlessly crosses the road to reach the nearest konbini. His breath puffs out in flurries of smoke and he rubs together his gloved hands, hoping the friction will be able to warm him enough. He tugs his woolen hat down on his head, where short and red strands stay pressed in a ticklish mess.
The evening has already darkened the glowing sky of the city in a pleasant indigo and he knows he should be fast if he wants to go back home in a decent amount of time. Inside the shop, people are starting to pack along the aisles but, by the time the crowd becomes unbearable, he's already taken the beef meat ā delicious and discounted ā and a well-assorted mix of vegetables. After a long day at work, no one is going to stand between him and his hot pot.
Back in the streets, he hastens his pace and crosses a bridge over the blurry traffic, the plastic shop bag rocketing back and forth from his pocketed forearm. Snow starts to fall down and he should really reach for the underground station instead of halting in the very middle of some stairs just to stare at the empty, whitening sky.
He forgot to wear proper shoes and his coat isn't suited for this kind of temperature, nonetheless there he stands, his eyes lost in the foggy uncertainty of unknown lights. Clammy seconds slap together in a chaotic revelation and he suddenly remembers why he's so out of himself, why he's been so distant and cold in these days. He lowers his head, finally understanding that he knows something should be brought to attention.
When he had answered the phone call, at least a week ago, he was robotically roaming through piles and piles of documents, his train of thoughts caught in the middle of a comparison: was it better giving hope to a hopeless but eager player or to a talented but lazy one? Needless to say, now as before, being the coach of one of the top-national basketball team isnāt an easy task. He is good, though, or so he was thinking just a second before he decided to pick up the phone. Then everything went very fuzzy,
- Sakuragi?- the voice had said. His voice. He had dropped the phone as it was white-hot iron.
- Sakuragi. Are you there?-
- Uhmā¦yes. Wh-who's s-speaking?- his voice shaky.
- It's Rukawa.- the voice had said, as toneless as Hanamichi could remember while being stressed, too involved. He hadn't said anything for at least a minute. He was not going to feign a happiness he didn't feel or a calmness he didn't have.
When they last saw each other, at least fifteen years before, they had had been in a crucial spot of their own lives. During the previous spring and summer there had been a new feeling hovering above them. They had spent an awkwardly long time together, divided but connected by a curious something engulfing between them. The more they pretended not to see, the more this thing engorged and started to reveal itself as very treacherous and unquestionably deep. It had been growing with a natural rhythm and both of them had secretly knew where their leads were going, quite a surprising thing in a certain funny and tender way. The fox and the monkey, who could've ever said that!? Never, not in a thousandā¦no, millionā¦no, say billion years! Yet, here they were, even if everything was still concealed by shyness or, more predictably, by a still-to-come ripeness that had to waitā¦or be waited. Hanamichi might not have known about the way Kaede's cheeks burned red and how his lips parted with fierce and unfamiliar desire while he was looking at him with the corner of his eyes. However, he was starting to get aware of the way his own smile seemed more energetic and unstoppable while being in the kitsune's company. It had come as something unwanted and formless, but at a certain point, he could no longer deny it, at least to himself. His everything began and ended with Rukawa, this was no secret for his young and carefree mind. He certainly couldn't cover the way he sought his company just like he couldn't breathe without him, just like they were only at the beginning of countless, shining days of energy and youth. Tied together and united by the same dream. It seemed it could have last forever.
But on the very day Hanamichi had chosen to unravel the truth about his heart, Kaede had said something horrible, out of the blue. He was to be in USA League soon, he had been accepted there to play basketball, to be a real pro. Unlike him, Rukawa was going to fly high and tear the veil of the Japanese anonymity.
Rukawa had knew all along their time together and had not said anything aloud. This was an unwelcomed and paralyzing surprise. In the back of his brain, he had seen countless what-ifs ebbing away like tiny, ridiculous spiders. He had felt very stupid.
Still, Hanamichi had briefly held Kaede in his arm and had lied, saying he was happy, patting him on the shoulders and inviting him to do his best out there, in the real and tough world. Truth is, his heart was shattered in painful, glossy shards, and he felt like choking. His friend was going to leave very soon. They weren't meant to have their time, it had only been a blind and foolish dream of his and there was nothing he could do to feel any better.
They had spent their last days in isolation, often together but in a religious silence, as if connected in a mute prayer. The parting hours had been heavy and sour and Hanamichi couldn't really remember saying anything meaningful or important. Only monosyllabic responses and pragmatic indications.
They had tried to keep in touch, at first with enthusiasm, with some efforts, and eventually with tired, aimless words. They even managed to see each other a couple of times, but it wasn't the same and it felt almost wrong. They weren't real friends anymore ā they weren't sharing anything more than a happy and relatively short past. They couldn't even tell each other the truth about the itch they hadn't been able to scratch, the occasion lost in their younger years swelling up and, this time, dividing them once and for all. It had been painful and sorrowful; really, it had been a surgical amputation of memories and emotions.
Hanamichi couldn't know if Kaede had felt the same, but for years he had tried to be normal, he had tried to tell himself it had been only some kind of one-way hallucination. He had tried to fall in love, he had tried to touch women and feel good, to forget what really was that lightness he had felt near Kaede. Nevertheless, everything had always miserably become a disaster and he had kept repeating himself he was not made for that crap at all.
Even in that precise moment, his voice frozen and his hand gripping onto the phone, Hanamichi could clearly see all the directions his life had failed to take.
- Ohiā¦?Are you there?- the voice had said, hooking him up to his present.
- Yes. Uhm. I-Iā¦Uhm.- he had heard himself answering very intelligently.
- Still the same slow idiot, aren't you?- the voice had laughed, hearty and tender despite the harsh words.
- Baka!-
- Want to know something new?- he had asked, still smiling.
- Shoot it.- and soon they had slipped to the old easy tones they were so used to, so much that all those of years of silence had at once felt as pure stubbornness.
- I'm quitting. I want to come home.- Kaede had confessed, with swift words. Had it been the phone or his voice had seemed sad?
- What?-
- You heard me.-
- How comeā¦?-
- I've just had enough. I'm coming home in a few days.-
- Mmmmhā¦Are you sure?-
- Hn.-
- And why did you call?-
- To let you know.-
- What?-
- That you can come and find me.-
To that, Hanamichi had shivered and had felt all the room spinning around him.
- My old address.- he had added, again almost smiling.
- Oh.- Hanamichi had whispered, completely stunned. Then Rukawa had sounded uncharacteristically needy:
- Will you come?-
But Hanamichi's voice had trembled and shared seconds of heavy silence.
- I don't know. I don't think so.- he had answered, feeling so out of tune, so distant, painfully recollecting all those images he had tried to forget during the past years. It hurt. It hurt like a fucking hell. It could have beenā¦and it never happened. Why was this time going to be different?
- I see. I understand.- Kaede had dropped his voice to a barely brusque murmur.
After other seconds of embarrassed silence, Hanamichi had taken the lead:
- I have to go, it's getting late. It's good to hear about you every once in a while.-
- Hn.-
- Bye.-
- Bye.-
The surreal conversation had ended as if it had never existed at all. Hanamichi had felt at once freed from a very heavy weight and had chosen to forget the event, tucking it deep down his brain. Just a phone call. Just an ordinary conversation. He had needed not to bother.
(Yes,Ā yes,Ā ofĀ courseĀ he'll bother, how can't he? "Will you come?", and his heart had shivered, hearing that voice, listening to the not-so-hidden truth in it, selfishly agreeing to its need. Time is a tiny prank, a distraction, it shouldn't seal people away, it should give them another occasion to fit together back in the right place. And space, obviously, should be only a temporary hindrance, it should give sweet excuses to reunite and come back even after having departed. It could be harshly called compromise but life takes and life gives, and overpowered control can become a delusional faith. Just dodge and readjust. Yes, yes, he will go, he had already knew then, he had just needed a retuningā¦)
Now, bumped by the crowd running to catch the leaving subway train, he realizes he can see fragments of time comeback together in place, giving him the chance he never asked for. It all started years ago, when their first championship finished and they had slowly become very close. Friends. He knows it will all fit together again, as perfect as their flaws can consent, and he consequentially starts to run under the snowy sky. He suddenly feels free, joyfully awake. He doesn't care about his freezing limbs, he forgets about his raw dinner bumping against his flank and he's only partially aware about his worthless shoes and dampening socks. He runs, runs, and runs, and he asks himself how he could have been that blind and obstinate. This time, though, he won't let his intentions slip through his fingers.
Even before his own mind, his muscles remember very well where Kaede's house is. When he jumps on the doorstep stairs, it feels like time has been stuck around him for fifteen years. A quick rattle at the door and he notices lights glowing in orange from the windows. His heart flutters shamelessly.
- Yes?- a deep voice says opening the door.
- Have you already eaten?- he smiles, holding out the shopper like a shield.
Kaede Rukawa shakes his head and opens the door properly. He's laughing and even in the dark they're in, Hanamichi's wonder attaches to the spotless beauty he sports. He hasn't changed a bit.
- No,I haven't yet. Come in, baka, out there it's freezing.- he says, letting Hanamichi come inside.
Hanamichi makes himself at home, leaving behind his shoes and his wet socks and peeling off his coat. The ingredients for the hot pot are soon left on the kitchen counter, as Rukawa closes the door and follows him in the comfortable room.
- I thought you'd never come.- Kaede says, serious all of a sudden.
- Me too.- Hanamichi answers, staring at him straight in the eyes.
- What happened, then?-
Hanamichi diverts his eyes to the windows, where snow is freely piling up, then he steps forward and leans closer to his friend. When their bodies meet, they hold tightly and share a blissfully warm embrace. It has been so long.
- I changed my mind.- he whispers on the crook of Rukawa's neck, inhaling his scent and remembering sunny days at the beach, sun kissing their bronzing skin and salty water splashing all over; rainy jogs while school bells start ringing, the two of them packed with bags and a skimpy black bicycle left on the street side, its wheels still hopelessly winding; cozy evening spent eating outside after hard training, their favourite ramen street shop or the sushi bar around the corner, always full of chattering people and greenish lights; hot, humid summer nights, sometimes spent with the others, loud and cheerful, sometimes spent in silence under the enormous starry sky, walking side by side, fidgeting a little, feeling something crawl under their skin. A reverie, a dream, a warm, kind love that only belongs to them.
It smells wonderful; it smells like coming home after a very long time.
- I'm glad you did it.- Rukawa mutters, his face buried in Hanamichi's shirt.
- I've missed you so much!- Hanamichi says, feeling words tumbling out of his mouth with no control whatsoever.
- So do I.-
Then Rukawa steps backwards and ties his eyes to Hanamichi. They're dark and beautiful as ever, and even if noticing some signs of time around them ā the skin is just a little paler and stretched around them ā he recognizes the same boy he fell in love with long, long time ago.
Kaede's hand swifts along Hanamichi's jaw and his thumb presses on his cheekbone. His gaze is intense, his skin is slightly flushed and his lips are parted. When the thumb lightly ghosts across his upper lip, Hanamichi closes his eyes and gulps down his false self-confidence.
- Oh, Godā¦- he whimpers and he collects his friend's lips at once, feeling like a very brave diver on a high trampoline. His mouth is moist and almost tasteless, a bit fresh-flavoured. It's all so supremely right he thinks he hears his brain singing.
The brief touch interrupts and they look at each other, taken aback. Hanamichi reads his own confusion in Kaede's startled face. Is this what he was looking for? Is he sure he's not messing around again with someone? Yet, it feels so true, so realā¦it can't be wrong.
When their mouths gently meet again, it quickly evolves in a wet stream of kisses, interrupted by their ragged breaths as Rukawa bumps softly against the kitchen counter. They look at each other again, through the haze of their overwhelming desire, then they are again one living tangle of roaming hands and seizing arms, arching limbs and struggling legs. They seek out each other's bodies in an amazingly familiar way, like it has always been like this. Smells, sensations, and images, new and old ones: it all smashes together in an inextricable knot of hunger, belonging and deliverance.
Hanamichi is now carelessly hard against Rukawa's tight. He's moaning a bit and he's making him feeling it, moving up and down to rub and ease the intolerable pleasure building up inside his guts. His friend is rapidly losing control, too, and they altogether groan when he shifts and lets his own erection slide alongside Hanamichi's. It's exquisite and delightful and Hanamichi knows he's never really felt anything for years, trying to excavate pleasure for his body from the wrong sources. This is the right one, this time he's sure.
They grasp at each other's back in the brisk attempt to maintain some kind of balance: their movements are now fast and erratic and their speed grows with the volume of their voices. They kiss and leave damp tracks into each other's necks, eyes wide shut and mouth demanding. An intense hotness grows and even if layers of fabric separate their skins, in the end it's as intense as being truly naked. When they come, their pleasure explodes at the same time, abruptly, and they let it stain their clothes because it really doesn't matter anymore. The more they think about it, the less it feels like something they should be troubled about.
They stay close for a while, motionless, tenderly glued cheek to cheek. The wave of bliss and release subsides and time is completely lost and found again. Only when their breaths become regular again, they decide they could use some bathroom time, followed by a delicious hot pot shared together while watching the falling snow. They stay pressed and close for some time, in a tired and satisfied silence, but then questions urge their way on them and Rukawa starts talking about his last years spent in USA. He has tried his best and he has succeeded in a way he couldn't hope for, but he has been feeling empty and meaningless and he has realized he had to come home. Hanamichi opens a bit, saying he never really accepted his departure from the very start. He says he has wanted him all the time being and he's not going to let him go that easily. Rukawa nods, because he knows it and feels the same. They don't need other words, not now, at least, because after all the distance, they can finally share a tight space and a hopeful embrace. The warmth of it glows throughout the whole room, almost enlightening it. It's so unreal and unexpected that it feels like being alive for real and for the very first time.
Ā°She had lost everything she cared for but time kept passing by and she slowly started recovering again. She began from the suburbian heart of the place she lived in, and found out that something had really happened during 20 years. Something had really changed while she was busy trying to understand her lifeĀ°
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