Title: Stark Contrast
Fandom: Japanese Popular Culture
Word Count: 1049
Disclaimer: These people would cringe knowing that I'm using them like this. I got my info from Shige's CR group
Summary: Prince Charming is very different from Maki's imaginings
Author's Notes: There are so many things I could say about you, and I've already filled this section up. You're extremely special to me, and mean the world. I've never met anyone half as nice as you've been to me, offline and online, and I hope your birthday has been nothing but good times. I love you, and I always will. For xcry for her birthday, although she doesn't deserve such shit. I really wanted to write you something for this occasion, but I haven't written anything in a while, and all the bunnies fall apart mid air. Feel free to not read the last paragraph. I didn't want this story to be an "epic true love" story, but couldn't quite channel something that was less than that without sounding horribly cheap and bad. I have no idea what you're on xcry to be able to produce your stories of genius, but I want some. I promise you once I write something half way decent, I'll dedicate it to you. I hope this is one of those situations where you remember that it's the thought that counts.
Also, when Maki mentions that she's touched places she's never touched before, it's not a sexual reference. I was alluding more to the fact that Shige's easily hurt and she has this tendency to be kind ..... well not there.
ALSO this is sooo OOC it's not even funny. I don't think Maki is a fangirl persay, but I'm working under the assumption that all girls once (and still do might I add) dreamed of a fairytale ending. I didn't know much about Shige, and tried to protray him as someone who was into music yet intelligent at the same time. I initially tried to go for the playboy, live-life-in-the-moment, intelligent guy, but it turns out Shige is very serious and mature. So .... yes that fell apart. Nonetheless here it is.
Her sister asks if it’s true love, all does eyed and dreamy. If he brings her roses every Tuesday and serenades her outside her window by moonlight. She’s only twelve, and still enjoys reading crappy shoujo manga, so Maki just smiles.
Her sister and Maki both decided that Maki will meet him in a quiet care. A cozy little place in the nook of busy downtown Tokyo. She’ll go there to escape the daily grind, read a book, relax. When they meet she’ll be sitting in the far right booth drinking a cup of coffee with a knowing smile, because he’ll have come to the cafe everyday just to look at her. Maki won’t know his name, and he won’t know hers, but there’ll be something undeniable there, and after seven days of just sitting and starring, he’ll walk over to her and sweep her off her feet with just one word.
Instead they meet at a rock concert. Music blaring, lights flashing so brightly she’s surprised no one’s started seizing yet. It’s a strange twist of fate that she’s there in the first place, dragged by a fangirly friend desperate not to “rock out” alone, because “that’s just sad” and when she steps out to re-adjust her eyes, he’s there. It’s one moment in a thousand, and a stupid tingle sparked by his casual smile makes it unforgettable. He leans against the adjacent wall, confident and powerful, embodying every unattainable high school crush she’s ever had. Though it’s monumentally stupid, she walks up to him. Hey, my name’s Maki. And she can’t remember what she’d said after that. But they’re exchanging phone numbers in a minute, and so whatever she said must’ve worked. She reminds herself that phone numbers don’t mean anything. This is the 21st century, and anyone can be friends with anyone, but the girl inside her is jumping up and down, pounding her fists threatening to let loose, because it means something to her. Something exciting and new.
Her sister and Maki decided that he’ll have brown eyes, hair that look good dyed any colour, be a metre 70 with proportionally shaped ears and nose. He’ll be a little pudgy and prefer wearing sweaters over collared business shirts (because they both agree it shows a certain level of sophistication without being appear stuck up. And because it’s very, very hot). Maki’s future husband won’t have piercings or strange facial hair, but he’ll be extremely attractive. It’s easy, Maki’s Mr Right won’t be anything short of perfect.
Instead he’s 174 centimeters tall, with slightly spiky black fading to light brown hair. His eyes are still brown, face immaculately shaven and he’s still extremely good looking, but his cocky smile and lanky body is unexpected. Shige can dance and he can sing, and not for the first time Maki wonders what she’ll do with him, what she’ll do without him. She always runs her fingers up and down his ribcage inside his t-shirts, pressed up against a wall, under the covers, in broad daylight if she feels particularly brave. She knows his soft spots like no other, and brushes her fingers delicately across his pierced belly button to the rhythm their kisses. Every time they go out, Shige wears a different t-shirt emblazoned with band names she’s never heard of and English that barely makes sense. She’s never seen him wear the same t-shirt twice, and he seems to have an odd fixation with hats. His right ear is slightly smaller than his left and sticks out an angle that she wants to measure. He makes her wants to know everything about him and without meaning to he drives her insane.
Her sister and Maki decided that he’ll be a journalist. Someone who gets the hard facts and pursues truth relentlessly. Like a modern day superhero. He’ll read classics, those large leather bound books from the library no one ever seems to borrow and sagas in one sitting. It’s not hard to decide that he’ll be smart and well versed in matters of politics, economy and philosophy, subjects Maki understands little of herself, but will be willing to learn from him. And they’ll never run out of intelligent things to say. She’ll have an arts degree and hopefully a masters in history. Together they’ll spin stories of corrupt government officials, plummeting stock mark prices, the ingenuity of imagination, the battlefields of Gallipoli and the meaning of life. Without a doubt, her Prince Charming will be patient, kind, faithful and chivalrous. With a horse and sword in tow.
Instead he’s never punctual and doesn’t quite understand what makes art, art. He studys law in college, after previously dropping out and currently works in a record store to pay his school fees. Shige dislikes politics (despite working towards being a lawyer) and books over fifteen centimeters in width. However he loves reading modern literature as well as the classics, and is rarely seen without a little worn notebook jammed into his back pocket for easy access. He’s not really a “mans man” in the traditional sense, screaming (before quickly jumping on any nearby chairs) at the sight of caterpillars (and her personal favourite) centipedes, because nothing should ever need that many legs. Shige bruises easily in places Maki has never been able to reach before, and gets teary during romantic comedies, but most importantly he isn’t boring. He envelops her in arms desperate for her touch, kisses her with lips hungry for contact and loves her with an inextinguishable fire. They’ll do stupid things in the parks and get caught for indecent exposure, talk one minute as if they’re distinguished professors and another as if they were nothing but stupid schoolgirls.
Maki’s mother asks if it’s true love with contempt and a sneer. She reminds Maki that she’s only twenty and barely legal. She doesn’t know what she wants, she can’t possibly. And she’s probably right. Shige is different from what she’d imagined, hoped for and Maki’s not sure if it’s true love. The kind that death can’t hinder, that join lovers together regardless of time and place. Maki’s not even sure if true love exists. But he does things to her that no one else can and she’s sure, definite and certain that she won’t throw that away.
- Fic: Stark Contrast