Shipping

Breathe out, so I can breathe you in.

Brother: Dad, dad! Did you know that Ironman and Captain America are Spiderman's dads?
Father: What did you tell him?
me: The truth.

Domestic Avengers (again)

If I don't do this, I'd go insane. 

Spiderman: my dad has an super armor suit. My other dad is America.

Deadpool: I think I'm in love with you.

"Because of everything you were involved in, I will spend the rest of my life hiding in the outback, mourning the death of a man who was already dead when I met him!"

"At first I didn't want to touch anything, as if his room were a crime scene, or a tomb filled with offerings. After a few minutes, I had to, or I was going to go insane. I curled up in his closet, as I had in my dollhouse, inhaling the scent of him. I trailed my palms over his books, the cool leather so much like his skin. I packed up his diary and his watch, to take with me."

"A few days later, I finally guessed the password to his digital diary. I stayed up reading by its own light, tears flowing ceaselessly down my cheeks. He'd begun keeping it when he'd joined the army, and I learned how he'd had to mature and adapt- for he'd quickly had to learn how to fight, how to strategize, how to be a soldier instead of a boy trying to support his family. I learned how much he missed his mother, how much attention he paid to how brightly the sun shone and how healthy the trees around him were and how fragrant the soil. How much he'd grown to care for and respect my father. How sometimes he still thought of giving up and going beyond the gate and putting a bullet in his head, but knew he couldn't do it- that he had to hang on.

    "On the last page, he'd written simply, 'She's so beautiful.' I shut the diary and kissed it. I took to carrying it about like a blanket. I slept with it beneath the cheek every night, pretending that it was the inside of his arm."

"It is better to lie than to have a complicated discussion." - is what I always convinced myself to believe.

Domestic Avengers!

A little bit of comic strip since I have nothing else to do on holidays.
Enjoy!

tags: spiderman/peter stark rogers,ironman/tony starks,captain america/steve rogers,deadpool/wade

Not So Secret Anymore,eh?

I secretly wished that this guy...

...was gay.

A Future Her

She was tired from being a primary school teacher,
But what to do,
That is her daily routine.
She comes home to a small cottage,
Far in the woods,
Away from the city and civilization.

The small cottage she called home is not as beautiful as other teachers',

But she was content and felt closer to nature.

In the small cottage,

There is a particular room full of books.

It's her beloved private library.

She spends most of the times in that particular room,

Sometimes she sleep in the study slash library,

Leaving her bedroom empty and dusty.

And at evenings,

She will step out of her small little cottage and manage her relevantly small garden.

It was located behind the front yard and her small car where she use to go to school everyday.

There were her favorite Casablanca, his purple violets (which he claimed to be similar to her nickname), and the other person's reminder; Baby Romantica;the princess of roses.

There were also some small fruits and vegetables, in case she's too lazy to go to the market.

This is her life.

Or a life she simply wanted.

And she's happy.

A Little Bit of Hetalia : US and UK Love

Maybe I should just stop studying altogether and be a full-time mangaka instead.

America is giving out love for free and someone gets jealous.

yeah, that's it. I really should just stop trying so hard being a teacher and focus on my drawing instead. My family will kill me.

Take it, take it all back.

Avoiding the memories made,
Trying to erase everything that made us US,
But sometimes a big lump fell into my throat,
And I feel breathless.

They saw the me when I was speechless,
Dumbfounded,
Crying until no voice can come out.
Because the tears spoke for that broken heart.

Finally

The girl stammered across the hallway,
trying to make out what energy remained in her body.

If I could make it in time,
If only I would make it,
It'll be alright
Wouldn't it?
Everything will be alright...

Her posture was not balanced,
And the clear, flat linoleum did not help too.
She finally stumbled upon,
Face upfront.
There are few friendly people asking was she alright.

Am I going to lose you again?

Her mind was completely blank-
gathering the few last drop of willpower,
and dragging her feet throughout the building,
She ran.

For three years,
A dark traumatic tragedy made her lose her voice.
And the one who was getting away,
Was the one who wanted to hear it again-
desperately.

I'm with you not because out of obligation or because I was the reason you lost your voice,
But simply because I wanted to.

He left her in good hands,
he thinks.
That person will take good care of her,
He was so sure of it.
Because that person loves her too.
But in different way.
And different type of love.
But that doesn't mean his love for her is less than that person's love for her.

When she grows up,
She will understand why he did all this.
She will appreciate his way of saying
"Be independent.I won't be here forever"

--------

The girl was out of breath-
Her legs were shaky,
her hands cold as ice.
An unknown gesture fell upon her slouched shoulder-
She almost yelped in happiness,
thinking it was him.

A sad smile created on a lips that was not his.
It was the other person's.
She felt dreaded.
And guilty at the same time.
But when she opened her mouth,
No sound came out.
She cannot even apologize properly.

A faint, lemon scent caught her attention,
And she ran away from the dumbfounded person.
He chased the girl,
Dazzled, puzzled, and all.

She raised her head,
Eyes fixed upon an individual sitting at the corner of a red-colored bus.
She wanted to shout his name,
Shout until he turn about her direction.
But to no avail.
Until her nose was red,
The tears ran smoothly on her cheeks,
She could only open her voiceless mouth,
And still couldn't make a sound.

KENT!

The person who ran after her skidded to a halt-
first hearing her voice,
A clear pronunciation.
But the first word she uttered was not his name.

In the end,
all she ever did was crying silently at the bus stop
and chanting the name non-stop,
As if calling out that name would make him come back.

I'll be stronger when you come home, so that you can say how proud you are of me.

A Long, Long Sleep, A Famous Sleep

a long, long sleep, a famous sleep
that makes no show for dawn
by stretch of limb or stir of lid-
an independent one.

was ever idleness like this?
within a hut of stone
to bask the centuries away
nor once look up for noon?

-Emily Dickinson

I am afraid of losing someone who isn't mine to begin with.
What crazy nonsense?

It feels like I don't want the wound to be healed.
Because having scars,..
It reminds me that I'm still alive.

you're doomed when the opponent found your heels of Achilles..

Me + bangs = Eiji?

When I cut my bangs lately,
my sister said I looked like a female Kikumaru Eiji.
Well,..
if I am Eiji,

list of tenimyu's Eijis - Nagayan,Adachi,Seto Koji,Mao,Takasaki Shota

I SO HOPE YUKIHIRO TAKIGUCHI WILL BE MY OSHI!!

he was so calm and composed when he acted as Akaike-kun in Takumi-kun series.hotness overload!

WE CAN BE THE IMPENETRABLE GOLDEN PAIR EVER!!!!

Takky,I fell in love with you all over again~nyaa.

Leaving

Stepping out.
Finally out from his sight.

"It's a start," I wanted to say.
But the words didn't come out right.
And someone finally said it for me.

"It's a start,
Try to live for yourself,
Not for the memories,
Laugh and cry for yourself,
Not for someone who finally moved on,
Be with the people who actually cared for you when I'm not there,
Because I wanted to."

He said all that.
He won't be there when I'm home.
When I leave,
I don't expect to be more happy,
Or even satisfied with life more than I am now,
I just want to appreciate those who reciprocate my feelings.
Them.
Him.
But not that particular person.
Because if I'm being truly honest with myself,
I wanted to hurt him.
So that he will feel the world I'm living in.
The world I desperately trying to get out of.
The world I'm leaving.
Please let me leave.

Yunho needs a Hero

"Aaah~ I need a hero!"

"No Hero for you, Jung Yunho. So you'll have to bear with only Jaejoong."

In my sleep,
I see a figure I think I remember from somewhere
And try to chase after them.

When I wake up from my dream,
I cannot recall who it was.

In the gaps of this falling broken time,
I'm just wandering aimlessly
The feelings that I let pour out
They won't reach anyone anymore
If even loneliness is fated for me,
They hold my trembling heart tightly.

what is it really mean to be forgotten?

Arashi: I'm Home.

Author's note: Nino was in America for a new upcoming movie and being away from home was a lot tougher than it looks. This scene stuck in my head for awhile now.

A much younger looking Nino, Sho-chan, Aibacchi, Riida, and MatsuJun

Once in LA, Nino discovered staying in touch was harder than he'd thought; his phone didn't accept calls and only sporadically sent or received emails. He attempted an international call, only to discover the automated instructions were in English, and he didn't understand enough to complete the call. He planned to accost the manager who came with him and insist on help, but each day he got back to his trailer and simply fell face down onto his bed. He barely had enough energy to eat and bathe, let alone figure out the surprisingly complex task of contacting Japan.

He finally managed one call on his manager's phone, but the only person he could reach was Sho.

"How is everyone?" he asked in a rush. "Did you get my emails? Is the promotion going okay? Did Oh-chan walk into traffic?"

"Ohno is fine," Sho laughed. "He's been moping a lot, but Aiba keeps taking him out drinking and Jun has been allowing him to cuddle. Oh, and Jun got an email, but nobody else."

"Sorry," Nino apologized. "I sent them to everyone, but they're not sending very well."

"We guessed, it's fine. Ohno was just happy you weren't dead," Sho reassured him. "Aiba told him Death Valley was the hottest place in America and now he's got this irrational fear that you'll be stranded out in the desert somewhere."

"I'm fine," Nino said. "I really miss him though."

"He misses you too," Sho said. "We all do, but especially him."

"I have to go," Nino said, his frustration clear in his tone. "Tell everyone I said hi? And tell Ohno—"

"That you dream of his butt night and day, I know," Sho laughed.

"And that I love him," Nino added quietly.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I am sure his response will be, 'I love you too.'"

"Thanks, Sho-chan."

"No problem," Sho said softly. "We'll see you in a few weeks, okay?"

"Okay."

The next few weeks were the longest of Nino's life, but he managed to survive until the day came that he was back on the plane, pulling into Narita airport. In the middle of the afternoon, he wasn't expecting to be met by anyone, but he stepped out of the gate to be greeted by every single one of his bandmates. Nino dropped his bag and started running; he met Aiba halfway across, the two of them colliding into a hug that almost knocked Nino off his feet.

"Jun was pawing your boyfriend," Aiba grinned.

"Jun better cough up all the details," Nino responded, his own smile bigger than it had been in months.

The two rejoined the rest of the group, and Sho pulled Nino into a firm hug.

"You lost weight," he commented. "Stop that."

"Sorry, mother," Nino said, dropping his head in mock shame.

"Please shave that off tonight," Jun said as he hugged Nino. "It looks ridiculous."

"I was kind of thinking I'd try growing it out," Nino said, stroking his barely-stubbled chin thoughtfully. "Try for something a bit more full and manly."

"Manly like a fifteen year old hitting puberty," Jun snorted, but his smile gave him away.

Ohno hung back, his hands jammed in his pockets. When Nino turned to him, he made a move as though to step forward, but then stopped. Biting his lip, he looked up.

"Hi," he said quietly. Nino didn't answer; he simply launched himself into Ohno's arms. He knew Ohno would catch him anyway. Sure enough, Ohno immediately pulled Nino close, burying his nose in Nino's neck.

"I'm home," Nino murmured softly in his ear. He could feel a hot wetness on Ohno's eyelashes where they blinked against his skin.

"Welcome home," Ohno answered just as softly. "I missed you. I forgot what you smell like."

"Silly," Nino said. "I smell like me."

"Good," Ohno said. "I love that smell."

"If you two are done being total saps," Sho drawled, grinning. "We are dropping your bags off at your house and then going to get roaringly drunk and eat as much ramen as humanly possible."

"You guys," Nino said sincerely, his arms still wrapped firmly around Ohno's waist, "are the best friends in the world."

Metaphor

One last story of SABARIAH BINTI KESE, KUJAIMAH BINTI JANDIH, SITI ADILAH BINTI MOHD ALIAS, SAIDATUL SYUHADA BINTI SULAIMAN and ME before the semester holiday starts.

“—Ana and Jai would be the mother and father, and you would be the drunk aunt, and I would be the prized daughter!” Dila says happily, ticking off each member with her fingers.

“Why am I a drunk?” Saba asks. “And what about Said?”

“Said is the cranky grandmother, and you’re dissatisfied with life,” Dila answers solemnly.
“Why am I dissatisfied with life? And why is Said the grandmother?”

Dila giggles, lying down with her head in Saba’s lap. “You’re dissatisfied with life because that makes the story more interesting, and Said is the grandmother because she stepped on my toes this morning and I’m mad at her.”

Saba sighs. “A metaphor isn’t the same thing as a story,” she says with a longsuffering air that is trademark for people who spend long amounts of time around Dila.

But Dila isn’t listening; her eyes are focused on something on the ceiling as she wonders between Ana and Jai, who would make the better mother, and who could pull off a pink apron better?

---

“Who would look better in a pink apron, you or Jai?” Dila asks.

Ana thinks about it for a moment, pondering the likelihood of Dila actually sticking one of them in a pink apron, apologizes to Jai in her head, and answers, “Jai. Definitely.”

Dila nods. “Yeah, I think she makes the better woman, too.”

“Huh?” Ana says, hoping Jai would forgive her for whatever fate Ana seems to have sentenced her to.

“I’m trying to metaphor all five of us to something, but the perfect something, you see?” Dila explains.

“Huh?” Ana says again, and quite reasonably she thinks.

Dila punches Ana lightly on her shoulder. “Stop dazing off when people are talking to you!”

---

Dila decides to write it down, hoping that will clear everything up. She writes:(woman) Jai + (man) Ana + (me!) Dila + (drunk) Saba + (cranky) Said  = Family?It doesn’t clear anything up. Dila thinks that maybe she should try a different metaphor.

---

“Jai. Jai. Ja. I. Ja. I. Jai,” Dila says, accompanying every syllable with a poke.

Jai’s video game makes a sad little noise, and Jai turns it off. “I hate you.”

“I love you,” Dila says, to neutralize the hate, and then, “Does Said remind you of a duck or an otter?”

“What?” Jai asked.

“You know, a duck,” Dila says, flapping her hands around like wings, “or an otter?” and then she wiggles a hand behind her like a tail.

Jai gives her a look that clearly states her opinion on Dila’s mental health, or lack thereof.

“Fine, don’t help,” Dila says sulkily, storming off.

---

“I’d probably be something cool, like a tiger,” Dila says to the mirror. She pauses, looks around to make sure the room is empty, and makes her best tiger face.It doesn’t exactly strike fear into her heart.

Dila decides she needs a little help, and wanders off to find Said.

---

“If you help me think up a good metaphor, I promise not to make you a cranky grandmother or a duck or an otter,” Dila pleads, throwing her arms around Said’s waist and nuzzling at her stomach.

“You’d think I’d be used to hearing you say things like that,” Said replies, “But I’m not.”

“Help me!” Dila says. “I beseech your knowledge!”

Said swats Dila away and says, “My knowledge tells me that Saba should stop teaching you new words. What are you even talking about?”

“I’m trying to compare all five of us to something else, only I can’t figure out what.”

“Why compare US to something else at all?” Said asks, hoping if she resolves this quick enough she’ll have time to re-do her nails.

“Well,” Dila says, pauses, and then starts again, “So that people can understand it.”

Said laughs, “Understand what?”

“Understand what it’s like to be us!” Dila exclaims. “Because it’s not fair that only we have it and I want to be able to tell everyone, so they can have it too, and so I thought a metaphor would help.”

“Dummy,” Said hits Dila on the head and walks out of the room, calling behind her, “It’s called happiness, and other people do have it, they just don’t have to share it with such stupid people.”

---

Dila shoves a piece of paper in Saba’s face the next day. It reads:(apron wearing) Jai + (dazing off) Ana + (not a tiger) Dila + (not a drunk) Saba + (helpful) Said= Happy

“Look, I figured it out!” Dila says, the living definition of jittery. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Saba laughs. “Yes, you’re definitely right.”

“Good! Want to help me stick Jai in a pink apron?” She pulls one out from behind her back, and wiggles the apron and her eyebrows simultaneously.

“Definitely,” Saba says again, allowing Dila to pull her along at the wrist as they run to Jai’s room.

It takes them five minutes to find Jai, ten minutes to actually get her into the apron, and the world’s twisted sense of timing to have Ana and Said walk into the room a minute later with a camera handy.

You always do this. You write depressing, dark poems when you're upset.
You write crazy fanfictions when you're avoiding or trying to run away from something.
Didn't you promise to put up a brave face and stop being a coward anymore?

I lied.

Ohmiya: I Miss You.

Author's note: this scene occurred in my head during RV examination. All hail to the fluffiness of Ohno Satoshi and Ninomiya Kazunari! 

Nino wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe he had or maybe he was just too damn tired to notice the way Ohno had been looking at him. Nino knew without a shadow of a doubt how he himself looked at Ohno; he’d been caught with his eyes lingering more than once and his touch lingering twice as often. He couldn’t help it. Rehearsals and filming and concerts all forced his attention onto Ohno. Nino acknowledged his physical attraction to Ohno quite easily; Sho agreed with him. Something about Ohno’s small but solid frame was a treat to view, and the effect only increased when he was moving. Nino could happily watch Ohno dance for hours. His lithe form had a power to it that made it almost impossible to look away.

"You can see how natural it is for him," Sho once commented, and Nino quietly agreed. Ohno never looked quite as aware of the rest of the world as when he was dancing.

But it was more than just that; Nino liked watching Ohno draw, too. Ohno’s brows would knit and his elegant hands curled around his pencil just so. Sometimes his tongue slipped out to wet his lip, and Nino would swallow hard and have to look away. Ohno didn’t seem to mind if Nino pressed against his side, his head pillowed on both arms, and stared at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Nino," Ohno said one day, as Nino’s eyes burned a hole in his face.

"Hmm?"

Ohno looked up, his eyes flashing uncertainly and he opened his mouth as if to speak. But he abruptly shut it again and curled in on himself, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he said. "Never mind."

Nino hadn’t really expected to get quite as sick that year as he did. At first it was just a fever, a small cold. Nothing he hadn’t worked through a hundred times before. But two weeks later Sho found him curled on a backstage couch shivering and cradling his right arm.

"Hey," Sho said softly, sitting on the couch and lifting Nino’s head into his lap. "You don’t look so good."

"I’m the ugly one, everyone knows that," Nino joked, but the humor was somewhat lost when his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Sho frowned, pulling off his jacket and laying it over Nino’s shoulders. His head brushed Nino’s bangs away from his forehead, and Nino knew the minute Sho discovered his temperature by the way he sucked in a breath.

"Nino," Sho said quietly. "You’re burning up."

"I noticed," Nino said, curling into Sho’s warmth. "I’m freezing."

Sho reached down to rub Nino’s arm to heat him back up, and Nino let out a sharp cry of pain. Instantly, Sho’s hand moved to Nino’s back, steadying him as he sucked in air.

"Oh," Nino gasped. "That hurt. That really, really hurt."
"What did you do?" Sho asked, clearly thinking it was a pulled muscle.

"Nothing," Nino insisted. "My whole arm is messed up, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with it."

"Your whole arm?" Sho asked, gently lifting Nino’s hand. "Bend your fingers for me."

Nino attempted it; slowly, his fingers bent. His thumb remained totally stationary.

"How long have you been sick?"

"About two weeks, I guess," Nino admitted. "But it was just a stupid fever, it really wasn’t anything."

"I’m calling the manager," Sho said seriously. Nino groaned.

"I’m fine, it’s just a flu or something," he insisted. "I’m fine, Sho."

"No," Sho said softly, brushing Nino’s hair off his forehead again. "You’re not okay. And I’m calling a manager, and then we are going to the hospital."

No amount of protest could change Sho’s mind, and they went to the hospital a few hours later. For the next two weeks, Nino received antibiotics and painkillers, as well as more than a few extremely suspicious and worried looks from his friends. But he would tolerate that as long as they swore not to forbid him from performing in the concerts; daily injections of painkillers numbed him enough to be able to dance, and someone was always willing to sit down and let him nap with his head on their lap before the show.

It wasn’t until later that Aiba told him how Ohno and Jun had spent hours tweaking the choreography to make things easier on him. Moves that required him to lift his bad arm a lot were cut or changed to a less painful action; parts where he had to run around a lot were exchanged for ones where Aiba ran instead. In six days, they had adjusted every single dance. Jun, Aiba explained, had been thinking about it, but it was only with Ohno’s help that they’d finished in time, and Ohno had been the one to bring the issue up in the first place.

By the time 24hr TV rolled around, Nino had recovered enough to be on normal antibiotics, although after an odd reaction to the first ones, management had agreed that he had best be spending the night at the hospital for a while. So every day, once filming of his drama wrapped up, he stumbled through the hospital doors, allowed his temperature and blood pressure to be checked, before passing out for a few hours sleep. By the third day of this, Nino wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed, uninterrupted, for an entire week.

On the day of 24hr TV, Nino had a suspicion that his friends were taking turns keeping watch over him. He was followed every where he went, and he could set his watch by how often one of them asked, "How are you feeling?" By the time they were told to sleep, Nino was so sick of his well-being being questioned, he’d taken to answering, "I’m feeling a bit homicidal, actually, thanks for asking."

Ohno at least had the sense not to keep asking if Nino was alright; instead, he would gently rest his hand on Nino’s lower back. The touch was a subtle inquiry, but one that only needed Nino’s nod to satisfy. And if Nino quietly shook his head, then Ohno’s touch would turn into a warm, one-armed hug. Nino leaned into his hold, closing his eyes into the comfort Ohno offered.

"Hey," Nino said softly as they finished their dinner. "I’m tired."

"I noticed," Ohno laughed, squeezing Nino’s hand. "Want to sleep?"

"Yes, please," Nino said sweetly. Ohno laughed again, and they went to the room where futons had been laid out. Nino’s grip on Ohno’s hand dragged him down into the same futon, and they curled up under the cover, exhaustion taking its toll.

"Don’t get mad at me," Ohno said with a sheepish smile, leaning in to bump their noses together. "But are you okay?"

Nino sighed but couldn’t summon up the energy to be angry. "Yeah. Just tired."

"Okay," Ohno said softly. "I’m—I’m glad. I was worried."

"I know you guys were," Nino said, rolling his eyes. "You haven’t left me alone since we got here."

"I didn’t mean the others," Ohno said. "I meant me. I was worried."

"Oh," Nino said, not sure how that mattered. "Thanks?"

"I missed you," Ohno said quietly, his eyes closing. His arm around Nino’s waist tightened slightly, and Nino shivered as Ohno buried his nose in Nino’s hair and inhaled. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Nino said quietly, feeling his heart clench. "A lot."

----------

Tegomasu: A Start

Author's note: During examination, lots of ideas came onto me.Mostly about TegoMasu. I just missed the adorable pair. And I need to distract myself from err..things.

Crash.

Tegoshi bursts through the door of their connecting rooms, flustered and breathing heavily. Masuda jumps up from the sofa and puts down the magazine he was reading, stunned.

“Tegoshi? What are you doing here?” Masuda asks, frowning.

“I had this nightmare- this horrible, sick nightmare that you left and I didn’t know. You left and I was standing up there on stage with the remainder of NEWS and they look at me with those eyes. Those accusing eyes, and I asked them where you were and none of them would tell me a-and Yamashita-kun told me I wasn’t needed and that I should just scram and I panicked and oh god, Massu, it was like hell without you.”

Tegoshi paced up and down, alternating between throwing his arms in the air and pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“Tegoshi—“ Masuda starts, but he gets cut off.

“--And then I ran backstage to find our manager and I asked him, ‘What about Tegomasu?’ and he tells me that there’s no such thing, he freaking tells me there’s no such thing as Tegomasu. So I find my cell and I look for your number, I try to find your mails but there’s nothing. It was like someone deleted you out of my life, out of NEWS and Tegomasu.”

“Tegoshi, calm down.” Masuda tries to approach him but steps back when Tegoshi turns suddenly, kicking the legs of a table.

“Calm down? Calm down, Massu? You leave and you’re telling me to calm down? I couldn’t even think without you there!”

“Tegoshi listen to me. It was just a nightmare,” But Tegoshi ignores Masuda and continues pacing, hands tangled in his tousled hair. He pulls frantically at the hem of his abused shirt and lets out a grunt of frustration.

“It was not just a nightmare Massu! It felt so real, like you really walked out on—“

“-- Oi, Yuya!”

Tegoshi stops; he stares at Masuda with wide, desperate, piercing eyes. He looks at Masuda in fear, tearing, searching for any hints of betrayal.

Masuda closes in on him, moving forward with slow deliberate steps. He continues until Tegoshi finds himself pressed against the wall, Masuda’s hands placed firmly on both sides of his face. Tegoshi is trapped, trapped and shivering, shaking from fear. He chews his bottom lip and turns away from Masuda’s gaze.

He was close. So close.

Pinning him to the wall, face inches away from Tegoshi’s own.

But he couldn’t look at those eyes. He just couldn’t. He was afraid of what he’d find.

“Tegoshi, look at me.” Masuda says, firmly. Tegoshi finds himself cowering and shrinking further into the wall.

“Please, Tegoshi,” Softer, kinder this time. A whisper.

Tegoshi forces himself to meet Masuda’s stare, and when he finds those mellow brown eyes he feels like something’s pulling his heart apart. He wants to cry.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m not leaving you,”

Tegoshi searches Masuda’s face for reassurance, suddenly acutely aware of their close proximity.

“Massu...I...please don’t. Don’t ever leave.” He stutters, and swears his heart was about to leap out of place and choke him to death. He blinks furiously and finds a tear burning down his cheek.

“Shh…”

 Masuda shifts his weight and traces his finger along Tegoshi’s jaw.

It tingles like static, and Tegoshi blushes. He can feel Masuda’s breath, pleasantly warm on his skin and surprisingly cool on the tear tracks, creating an odd but altogether nice sensation.

Tegoshi matches Masuda’s gaze. He finds himself incapable of speech.

Suddenly Masuda blinks and blushes furiously, eyes darting nervously from side to side, earlier confidence disappearing into an invisible cloud. Tegoshi can feel him trembling.

“C-can I…Kiss you?” He asks, quiet, still, tentative.

Tegoshi finds himself laughing loudly, but stops and bumps their foreheads together.

“Go ahead, baka.”

Masuda leans in and Tegoshi meets him and suddenly he finds himself drowning, flying, weak kneed and numb. He didn’t know a kiss would feel this good. He didn’t know kissing Masuda would feel this good, this right.

He finds himself grateful for the wall – and the warm arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him. The kiss was surprisingly gentle and tender despite Masuda’s earlier countenance, and Tegoshi lets himself slip away, enjoying the moment.

When they pull apart, panting, he finally remembers to breathe.

“I can’t believe I just kissed you. I kissed you. I finally kissed you.” Masuda mumbles, burying his tomato red face into Tegoshi’s shoulder. Tegoshi chuckles and plays with his hair, twirling the strands between his fingers.

“Took you long enough. You’d better make up for it.”

“Tegoshi!” Masuda gasps, turning a deeper shade of red

“Do you like me?” Tegoshi asks, wrapping his arms lightly around Masuda’s waist.

Do you love me?

Masuda nods and laughs. “I think it’s pretty obvious, Tegoshi.”

I love you.

“You know, if you ever leave - I’m going to kill you.”

Stay with me.

“I’m here to stay.”

Alright.

------

"So, the reason why you went out early from an exam hall is because your ex sat next to you?"

"Yes."

"And you're upset because he moved on while you're still hung up on the past?"

"Yes."

"WHY AM I SADDLED WITH A CRAZY, MASOCHISTIC PERSON LIKE YOU???"

"Because you love me?"

"No, I doubt that's the reason why, Velvet."

Yet, another night where I got yelled at.

I thought so hard about how I can't go just because you're in reach.
I mean,
It's not like I can forget that person.

But I wound up making the biggest mistake;
falling in love.

But that doesn't mean I can recognize such unfairness.
Because falling in love with you both...
Isn't that a foul play?

The writhing flame inside my skull
Blackens me from within-
But I still grin.

The heated smoke pours out my eyes
Curls my shriveling skin-
And I still grin.

The scent of my burnt flesh ascends
Dark perfume on the grind-
Through all, I grin.

When the flame's at last extinguished
Dawn finds my face caved in-
Still, I will grin.

Malicious Lullaby

Sleep tight, my darling. Do not fret

Fort things that lie below your bed,

That plot and wait for you to sleep,

Ere crawling out from underneath.

Good night, my darling. Do not fear
Whatever noises you may hear:
The groaning of a ghostly step,
The sighing of a chilly breath.

Rest now, my darling. Just ignore
The tapping on your closet door.
The creaking of a rusty hinge,
'Tis probably not just the wind.

Dream long, my darling. Worry not
Of shadows drifting 'round your cot
That linger at the edge of sight
And whisper evil things all night.

Farewell, my darling. Pay no heed
As unseen horrors come to feed,
To rend and tear with teeth agleam
The flesh of children as they scream.

Sleep tight, my darling. Will you wake?
Who knows? Who knows if you are safe?
There, there, my darling, please don't cry.
Good night, my darling- or goodbye?

- James Colton-

" my spirit was only rotting in an empty sleep
  until the call of your voice awoke me.

all those times I hurt you terribly with my unquenchable thirst
and still, your arms were so warm."

House of Leaves

"Little solace comes to those who grieve
When thoughts keep drifting as walls keep shifting
And this great blue world of ours
Seems a house of leaves,

Moments

         Before

               The
   
                   Wind.."

Reflection

Where was I?
Where am I?
Where will I be?

Knocking on the glass,
Expecting the reflection to answer every questions.

Aloof and deserted,
Wanting everything to end.

If I were to fall into a deep well,
Would I be saved?

Or would I keep scratching the surface of the well,
Trying to reach out,
Scared,
Alone,
And finally succumbed to darkness?

Ah, look.
See? we're really different.
Chasing my own reflection,
Knowing that you're somewhere far away,
And even though we were together,
Connected,
You're somehow seemed distant.
The person I want to be,
And the person I am.

So I chased you,
kept on chasing you..

And still couldn't reach you.

For the past 20 years of my life,
Most of things I've done is,
Throwing people out of my life.
Maybe that's the reason why I cannot recall many faces,
Many memories.
The brain blocked it all out.
Erasing everything.

You'd think reading a motivation book from Dr.Tuah Iskandar would help.
But,
am I THAT incurable?
Feeling more depressed after shutting the book off.
Not feeling more motivated,
Or even the least bit helpful.
Or was it because I rejected the content?
Shunning everything else out?
Again?

It's not the matter of WHEN will I make the right decision.
It's the matter of WILL I be able to make the right decision.
If the decision made didn't hurt me,
It's hurting those around me.
Always.

It scares me.