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31_days2011-01-17 12:19 pm
treeflamingo.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2011-01-17 12:19 pm
[Jan 16] [Ouran] Songs Linger Like Fingertips Though Love Fades To White
Title: Songs Linger Like Fingertips Though Love Fades To White
Day/Theme: Jan 16/Love songs last longer than lovers ever do
Series: Ouran
Characters: Haruhi(xTamaki)
Rating: G
Haruhi was walking a reference book back to the case by the professor’s desk when the song started to play. It was an odd reggae version she had never heard –steel drums where plaintive guitar should have been – but it slowed her pace noticeably. She settled the book in a gap on the shelf, paused with her hand on its spine. The professor turned in his seat.
“Fujioka? Is something wrong?” He was young for a college professor, only barely in his 30s, dark-featured and possessed of French mannerisms that confounded those expecting him to act in accord with his Japanese face. He reached a hand to her elbow. The classroom rolled its eyes. The small woman was close-faced and nearly impossible to read – she had transferred suddenly at the start of her senior year with a major in pre-law and a minor in French – and more than a few had wanted to make her life difficult. Her French was perfect. But she was as oblivious to the professor’s blatant favoritism as her classmates were irked by it, and somehow that made them like her more.
For the space of two measures Haruhi did not respond. Her fingertips touched the spine of the book but she wasn’t there. She was oceans and years away, tangled in the arms of a boy she had believed she could give everything to. And she had already given him so much. So many things that could not be taken back. She was angry for a half beat but, as it always did, the anger dissipated like mist. He had given her just as much. So what if it didn’t seem to equal out? He simply had more to give. She had loved him, and he had loved her to death. And that afternoon, blanketed in Alsace sunlight and Egyptian cotton, with this their song playing on endless repeat in her ears, on his tongue, through her entire body, she had believed she would love him forever.
“Fukioka?”
“Ah… this song…”
The professor tapped at his laptop, checking the music player and the volume levels absentmindedly. “Oh, do you like it? Je l’aime a mourir, probably best known as performed by Francis Cabrel, but I do enjoy the island atmosphere of this version by Jackito…”
Suddenly it felt to Haruhi like it had been years since she had seen him, ages, eons, epochs. It felt like, if she went home right now, she would find him in her bed, waiting for her. She felt the skin of his favorite places warm in anticipation of him.
But that was epochs ago.
“Pour tout reconstruire”
She turned to the professor and smiled. “I prefer the version by Monsieur Cabrel. It reminds me of a man I used to love.”
And then she returned to her seat.
Dear mods: I'm not sure what time zone you're working out of, but I'm currently living on tomorrow's side of the international date line so I can't be sure that I'm not posting this too late. If I have, I apologize - please let me know and I'll repost on amnesty day.
Day/Theme: Jan 16/Love songs last longer than lovers ever do
Series: Ouran
Characters: Haruhi(xTamaki)
Rating: G
Haruhi was walking a reference book back to the case by the professor’s desk when the song started to play. It was an odd reggae version she had never heard –steel drums where plaintive guitar should have been – but it slowed her pace noticeably. She settled the book in a gap on the shelf, paused with her hand on its spine. The professor turned in his seat.
“Fujioka? Is something wrong?” He was young for a college professor, only barely in his 30s, dark-featured and possessed of French mannerisms that confounded those expecting him to act in accord with his Japanese face. He reached a hand to her elbow. The classroom rolled its eyes. The small woman was close-faced and nearly impossible to read – she had transferred suddenly at the start of her senior year with a major in pre-law and a minor in French – and more than a few had wanted to make her life difficult. Her French was perfect. But she was as oblivious to the professor’s blatant favoritism as her classmates were irked by it, and somehow that made them like her more.
For the space of two measures Haruhi did not respond. Her fingertips touched the spine of the book but she wasn’t there. She was oceans and years away, tangled in the arms of a boy she had believed she could give everything to. And she had already given him so much. So many things that could not be taken back. She was angry for a half beat but, as it always did, the anger dissipated like mist. He had given her just as much. So what if it didn’t seem to equal out? He simply had more to give. She had loved him, and he had loved her to death. And that afternoon, blanketed in Alsace sunlight and Egyptian cotton, with this their song playing on endless repeat in her ears, on his tongue, through her entire body, she had believed she would love him forever.
“Fukioka?”
“Ah… this song…”
The professor tapped at his laptop, checking the music player and the volume levels absentmindedly. “Oh, do you like it? Je l’aime a mourir, probably best known as performed by Francis Cabrel, but I do enjoy the island atmosphere of this version by Jackito…”
Suddenly it felt to Haruhi like it had been years since she had seen him, ages, eons, epochs. It felt like, if she went home right now, she would find him in her bed, waiting for her. She felt the skin of his favorite places warm in anticipation of him.
But that was epochs ago.
“Pour tout reconstruire”
She turned to the professor and smiled. “I prefer the version by Monsieur Cabrel. It reminds me of a man I used to love.”
And then she returned to her seat.
Dear mods: I'm not sure what time zone you're working out of, but I'm currently living on tomorrow's side of the international date line so I can't be sure that I'm not posting this too late. If I have, I apologize - please let me know and I'll repost on amnesty day.