Title: Screaming I love you at the top of my lungs
Fandom: Japanese Popular Culture
Pairing: 1) Maki/Ryo, 2) Maki/Yamapi
Genre: Romance and AU?
Rating: 1) Pg 13, 2) PG
Word Count: 1) 300, 2) 561
Disclaimer: Owned by JE and Sweet Power, I also think I stole the title from one of joechenglover 's userpics. And also I received inspiration for the yamaki piece from imm0rtal_piglet ' s translation, which for some reason refuses to link right now.
Summary: 1) Maki and Ryo realise they're of the same kin
2) Maki is the love of elementary Yamapi's life. If only he knew it too
Author's Notes: For xperfect_lines, because she wanted a Makido, and I wanted to write one. Sorry it took so long, I still maintain that this is the hardest pairing to write for. I hope it satisfies. Also for xcry because I lost a bet, and she won fair and square. Special mentions go to missiemae who found the article and recently just told me her theory, which I fully endorse.
I'm quite proud of my Makido drabble, but I think the ending was sort of abrupt and strange, as if I had planned to write a fic, and then randomly cut it short, for the yamaki drabble. So please forgive me xcry
Sorry for the recent spam as of late, and they all seem to be on a Sunday too! I'll most likely delte this post (well, except for the birthday shout out). I'll add these drabble onto my previous drabble post as this was requested by both users, just to tidy things up. But I am posting this so people know I've written them. Yes. I am a comment whore
It was a known fact of life that pretty girls got together with pretty boys. Had pretty children and died a pretty death.
It was the leftovers that had to be dealt with.
Maki was a left over. She had grasped the concept long ago. She simply wasn’t meant to find true love or live a glamorous life. It was the leftovers that had to support the pretty ones. Live the common life, do the common jobs, have the same common dreams.
Ryo was a left over. He’d known it for some time now. Everyone around him was pretty, in fact if Tegoshi were any more so, he’d be a girl. He wasn’t like everyone else, and despite being included in group hangouts and knowing “the latest buz”, living like his friends (with a different girl each nigh) he just didn’t fit into that sort of society, no matter how hard he tried to cram. He wasn’t suppose to have a gorgeous girlfriend, or friends that would last forever.
She’d met him at a bar, sitting with his friends, laughing, his arm around a girl. She didn’t know what it was about him that called out to her. What made her gaze linger a little longer. Something in his appearance. Perhaps it was the way his arm seemed to slip from around her shoulders onto the top of the booth or the way his eyes sometimes shifted to the clock on the wall, maybe it was the way his laugh began after and ended before everyone else’s. And before she properly thought out what she'd say or do, she found herself walking over. To this stranger. For whatever evidence she used to support her rash decision, nothing could compete with the unshakeable feeling that he was just the same as her.
He watched her curiously. A blur of red, white and yellow that kept falling down over and over, rolling inevitably towards him. He’d liked her, had for quite a while actually. He could even pin point the date.
It was Friday, and with the weekend around the corner, Yamapi had been excited. Toma was going to come over to his house for a sleepover, and they would watch movies and read manga for as long as they could. They’d promised to bring torches, so as to convince his parents they were sleeping whilst they were really telling each other stories, and they would try to break their previous record of staying up until 10pm. He’d finished all his homework during lunch time, and in less than half and hour the fun would begin. Suddenly an unforeseeable force had knocked him over, and he found himself splayed across the side walk, next to a mess of black hair and a tornado of stationary.
He’d picked himself up, dusting off his pants, getting down to help the girl pick up her books like his mother had taught him. He watched her pick up her bag and stuff the books he offered her into it.
“Sorry for bumping into you” The unknown girl apologized and bowed, hastily sticking one arm into the loop of her backpack.
Yamapi, tried to smile even though she’d considerably delayed him from his sleepover with Toma. After all he could be there at his house right now!
“It’s fine, It happens to me-” Yamapi stopped, noticing the large nasty graze on her right knee, bleeding freely down her leg, and a long shallow nick on her left forearm.
“Are you okay? Your knee is bleeding”
The girl looked down at her leg, noticing the blood, grabbing the sleeve of her shirt, she rubbed off the running red liquid. “It’s nothing” she replied, still using her sleeve to stem the flow, “happens all the time”.
Yamapi was surprised. Most girls he knew would be crying now, curled into the fetal position screaming for their mothers.
Then uttering one last sorry, she’d left just as suddenly as she’d came running past him, hair flying, backpack jogging up and down, an invisible red ribbon trailing behind her stretching and unfurling between them.
And from then on, his eyes had seemed to search for her all the time. At school. At the playground. At the supermarket. In busy crowds. In his dreams.
Everyone he knew used the word love. His mum and dad, both of whom “loved” him and each other. Characters on television and even his best friend Toma, who was “in love” with the cute girl who sat in the very front of their classroom. It seemed only natural to apply the word love to his situation right now. His eyes widened when he saw her, his heart felt funny when it seemed like she would talk to him and a blush would stain his otherwise cute chubby face when she was within a three meter radius.
She was pretty, and he wanted her to be his girlfriend one day, like Jin and Eiko. Jin had boasted of how they held hands, and how he was going to marry her when he grew up. Yamapi wanted that too, with this girl, his girl, who was always falling and tripping, tumbling right into his heart.