まほら (mahora) wrote in sessou, @ 2008-12-26 10:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | 50stories, nightmare, niya/sakito |
[50stories] Vanilla Moon - Niya x Sakito - 1/5
Title: Vanilla Moon
Theme: #12 Candle
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ni~yaxSakito (Nightmare)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Comments: AU, very loosely based on the movie Bell, Book & Candle. I've been trying to write this story for a year, but it never seemed right. I think it's finally worked out they way I want it. XD;
One event Niya never expected was to fall in love. At least, not before he was prepared. Love supposedly developed over time, with patience and trust, not in the blink of an eye. In fact, he couldn’t even term it ‘blind-sided’ because it happened faster than the speed of light, faster than falling, faster than he could realize. Magic could only be so fast, digging in tooth and nail before setting down roots as deep as the innermost part of his heart’s soul.
Bored young with life and money, Niya spent his days in the arms of luxury, with long hours of drink and pleasurable company of all genders - he wasn’t one to bother discriminating. Sleeping or gambling were the only two other activities he partook in, each devoted equal amounts of time and occasionally combined with the first mentioned, respectively. Thus it was that he never paid any attention to the little apothecary at the edge of town (of a nondescript brown with a strangely red door) or the rest of the city, for that matter.
A single, shadowed evening turned out to be enough to change Niya’s mind about the tiny, personal world he had created for himself, though he didn’t realize it at first. It was a chain of events seemingly simple and mundane, yet in reality so complex not even the catalyst understood them completely. The cause happened to be another young man, about Niya’s age, with eyes the color of twilight and an awkward grace about his angled limbs. On a bench with crooked legs, at the outermost corner of the park Niya was passing, he perched with a wooden guitar. The most modest of melodies drifted from his instrument, but enchanting enough to catch the attention of some people passing, including Niya.
A traveler? Gypsy? Homeless? he mused to himself as he approached the solitary figure on the bench. The young man glanced up with his dusky eyes and smiled. When the song was finished, Niya clapped politely along with the rest of the quickly dispersing audience, but he stayed.
“Can you play something with a little more cheer?” he asked, eyes moving over the other’s loose, draped clothing and sandals, a few pieces of jewelry adorning his neck and left wrist. “There’s an extra coin in it for you.”
For a brief moment, the man’s eyes flashed. “…Oh?”
“Sure.” Niya shrugged, pulling out two from his pocket and holding them out. “You look like you could use an extra meal.”
The corner of the man’s mouth twitched very slightly, then he replied, “That’s…quite alright. Keep your money, I don’t really know any cheerful songs.”
With another shrug, Niya turned to leave, placing the coins back in his pocket. Strange, he thought, walking away. The sound of the guitar followed him down the street, step after step, all the way to his favorite bar, until he couldn’t get the tune out of his head.