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31_days2011-01-21 12:40 am
treeflamingo.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2011-01-21 12:40 am
[Jan 20] [Ouran] Ill-Fitting
Title: Ill-Fitting
Day/Theme: Jan 20/Space Chanson
Series: Ouran
Characters: Kyouya, Takashi
Rating: G
A/N: I had to look up the word "chanson," and when Wiki told me that it was a type of lyrical medieval French song, this is just sorta what came out. The time frame is early in the series, so no spoilers of any kind.
They were an unusual pair, the two black-haired boys sitting in overstuffed plush chairs set at sunbathing angles by the impossibly huge window. They weren’t intimidated by the setting; their silence was neither amiable nor awkward – it simply was. One boy was accustomed to obscuring the thoughts of his heart with the use of deliberate words and precise smiles; the other by rather simpler means: he rarely said anything at all. It may be more accurately stated that their silence was complete. They watched the actions outside and many floors below the window with interest utterly detached from one another. They scarcely took notice of each other’s presence. Given the circumstances, this was very nearly complimentary.
Finally, the younger of the two leaned back in his chair and allowed his glasses to slip down his nose. He pulled a laptop off a side table and settled it beneath his fingers. “Revenues aside, she is causing me no end of trouble,” he said, quietly, as though he had either completely forgotten or completely disregarded boy sitting across from him.
The older of the two continued to watch the antics of a small crowd as it scampered around the grounds below. His gaze followed one small blonde shape in particular, although it occasionally flitted to the little brunette (the other blonde and the two redheads seemed to hold less attraction for him). He face was impassive, but it was exceptionally rare that he should not be accompanying the small blonde, and very briefly his eyebrows drew darkly.
After another moment he leaned back as well and said, “She’s being troubled too.”
The younger boy looked up from his laptop and arched an eyebrow. “Mori-senpai?”
“Probably.”
Kyouya expelled a pensive breath and returned his attention to the window. “I imagine so,” he said.
Another silence passed, although it felt sharper this time, as though the two boys were suddenly aware that perceptions were being traded even as words were not.
“How is she trouble for you?” asked the older.
Kyouya regarded him with level eyes. Then seemed to shrug, although he did not actually do so. “She’s got them riled up,” he said. “She’s a novelty to them, and they’ll all be more excitable until they tire of her.” His eyes narrowed and he looked back out the window. “Although I don’t think Hani-senpai has quite the same motivations as the other three.”
“Ah.” Takashi shifted in his seat, facing Kyouya for the first time, like he was expecting something, though he said nothing further.
Kyouya noticed this – a quick flick of the eyes – and his face relaxed, as though his focus had shifted. “Hani-senpai is probably more interested in the four of them together than the girl by herself.”
Takashi allowed the boy a small smile.
“But the problem,” he continued, “is that she simply doesn’t belong. She’s utterly out of place among us. She’s throwing a monkey wrench in the whole dynamic.”
“Hmmm.”
Kyouya frowned a little and said, with just the merest defensive hint in his voice, “There’s nothing wrong with her in and of herself. But it’s like…” he paused, and his eyes briefly looked up and to the left. “It’s like hearing a person sing an Edo-period harvest song on the International Space Station. It is admirable in its own way for a person to know Edo-period folk music, but to send that person into space is absurd. Their skills are unneeded. They’ll serve as little more than a distraction.” It was an odd analogy – although understandable, given his recent classwork – and he looked self-consciously back down at his laptop.
Takashi closed his eyes in consideration, and after another silent moment he delivered his conclusion. “That may be true,” he said, “But even in space I’m sure people enjoy music.”
Day/Theme: Jan 20/Space Chanson
Series: Ouran
Characters: Kyouya, Takashi
Rating: G
A/N: I had to look up the word "chanson," and when Wiki told me that it was a type of lyrical medieval French song, this is just sorta what came out. The time frame is early in the series, so no spoilers of any kind.
They were an unusual pair, the two black-haired boys sitting in overstuffed plush chairs set at sunbathing angles by the impossibly huge window. They weren’t intimidated by the setting; their silence was neither amiable nor awkward – it simply was. One boy was accustomed to obscuring the thoughts of his heart with the use of deliberate words and precise smiles; the other by rather simpler means: he rarely said anything at all. It may be more accurately stated that their silence was complete. They watched the actions outside and many floors below the window with interest utterly detached from one another. They scarcely took notice of each other’s presence. Given the circumstances, this was very nearly complimentary.
Finally, the younger of the two leaned back in his chair and allowed his glasses to slip down his nose. He pulled a laptop off a side table and settled it beneath his fingers. “Revenues aside, she is causing me no end of trouble,” he said, quietly, as though he had either completely forgotten or completely disregarded boy sitting across from him.
The older of the two continued to watch the antics of a small crowd as it scampered around the grounds below. His gaze followed one small blonde shape in particular, although it occasionally flitted to the little brunette (the other blonde and the two redheads seemed to hold less attraction for him). He face was impassive, but it was exceptionally rare that he should not be accompanying the small blonde, and very briefly his eyebrows drew darkly.
After another moment he leaned back as well and said, “She’s being troubled too.”
The younger boy looked up from his laptop and arched an eyebrow. “Mori-senpai?”
“Probably.”
Kyouya expelled a pensive breath and returned his attention to the window. “I imagine so,” he said.
Another silence passed, although it felt sharper this time, as though the two boys were suddenly aware that perceptions were being traded even as words were not.
“How is she trouble for you?” asked the older.
Kyouya regarded him with level eyes. Then seemed to shrug, although he did not actually do so. “She’s got them riled up,” he said. “She’s a novelty to them, and they’ll all be more excitable until they tire of her.” His eyes narrowed and he looked back out the window. “Although I don’t think Hani-senpai has quite the same motivations as the other three.”
“Ah.” Takashi shifted in his seat, facing Kyouya for the first time, like he was expecting something, though he said nothing further.
Kyouya noticed this – a quick flick of the eyes – and his face relaxed, as though his focus had shifted. “Hani-senpai is probably more interested in the four of them together than the girl by herself.”
Takashi allowed the boy a small smile.
“But the problem,” he continued, “is that she simply doesn’t belong. She’s utterly out of place among us. She’s throwing a monkey wrench in the whole dynamic.”
“Hmmm.”
Kyouya frowned a little and said, with just the merest defensive hint in his voice, “There’s nothing wrong with her in and of herself. But it’s like…” he paused, and his eyes briefly looked up and to the left. “It’s like hearing a person sing an Edo-period harvest song on the International Space Station. It is admirable in its own way for a person to know Edo-period folk music, but to send that person into space is absurd. Their skills are unneeded. They’ll serve as little more than a distraction.” It was an odd analogy – although understandable, given his recent classwork – and he looked self-consciously back down at his laptop.
Takashi closed his eyes in consideration, and after another silent moment he delivered his conclusion. “That may be true,” he said, “But even in space I’m sure people enjoy music.”