sagami (sagami) wrote in 50episodes, @ 2007-08-11 10:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | dear boys, sagami:miura ranmaru |
The waiting game, G, Dear Boys
Title: The waiting game
Author: Sasuko
Rating: G
Warning: It begins in the middle of nowhere?
Disclaimer: Miura Ranmaru is the result of Yagami Hiroki's Dear Boys.
Universe: Dear Boys
Prompt: Table 1, prompt 10, Candles for 50episodes
They sat at a round wooden table. Miura had laced his fingers together, his hands resting on the tabletop a few inches in front of him as he watched a bead of red wax slide down the side of the single candle as if it were the most exciting thing in the world. In truth, though, Miura was only playing ostrich. If he didn't look over the dancing candle flame, then perhaps he could just pretend that the other didn't exist, that they weren't seated at the very same table, and that his father was waiting for a moment where he could catch his eye and speak.
No, avoidance was the key.
They sat in terse silence, the seconds slowly ticking away. One bead, then two, and three and four. It was astonishing how quickly candle wax solidified, Miura mused. So many trails had been created by now, and yet not a single line ran directly down the length and onto the waiting base of the candle holder.
Then it changed.
A light breeze entered through the single window, and the flame danced to one side. The wax at the left end began to melt more rapidly, and beads of wax glided swiftly down a single track, carrying it further and further down the candle-length until it finally reached the base of the candle. Slowly but surely a little mound of wax was beginning to form.
He was intrigued, and watched in captivated silence as the candle continued to burn. And like a moth drawn to a flame, the melted wax now began gravitating towards that single trail.
Seconds, minutes, and perhaps even hours ticked by, and they still sat in silence, Miura trying his best to remain absorbed in the task of watching the candle melt.
But as the candle decreased in height, so knew he that his excuse of not looking across was slowly dissolving. He now had to bend his head to direct his gaze at the shortened candle, but he stubbornly refused to budge. No, the growing ache in his neck was worth it, he told himself. Anything but that.
They were now at the final length, and Miura knew watched it eagerly, for the promise he had made only bound him to stay for the duration of the single candle, and it was little more than an inch-high.
Not much longer, he thought to himself in silent glee as it reached its final lap. It was then that he made the mistake of looking triumphantly up.
Sad blue eyes and a wistful turn of the mouth caught his attention, and he felt a stab of guilt.
The light went out.