Fic: Drafting (Touma/Ryuichi)
Jan. 27th, 2007 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zukkokyaTitle: Drafting
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing/characters: Touma/Ryuichi
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,200
Disclaimer: Gravitation does not belong to me.
Summary: Early in Nittle Grasper's career, Ryuichi used a game to write lyrics.
Early on, Ryuichi uses a game to write lyrics. This is when Nittle Grasper still have breaks in their schedule, when they can slouch in the scooped-out seats of airport terminals and only stand out because Ryuichi’s sitting on the floor with his head resting on Touma’s knee. Their manager can leave them to go on a long, involved quest for anyplace that sells coffee past midnight. It’s in Naha, where they’re stuck for three hours waiting for a 2:45 flight to Osaka, that Ryuichi invents his game.
He asks Noriko politely for her planner, then meticulously shreds pages August 2-7 and August 8-13 into long strips. He tries to be quiet and therefore is twice as loud. Muscle shifts under the elbow Ryuichi has propped on Touma’s thigh, signaling Touma’s return from naptime.
Ryuichi feels guilty, then curious. “Were you dreaming?” he asks.
“Mm,” Touma says.
Guided by Ryuichi’s hand, Kumaguro climbs up Touma’s calf. “Quick, what do you remember from your dream?” the bunny demands.
Touma’s prepared for Ryuichi’s seemingly aimless questioning. Answering the bunny instead of the boy, Touma says, “Petals. Someone bright. Like an angel. I couldn’t see more than a silhouette against the dark. Blood on my hands.” Ryuichi faithfully copies down Touma’s answer in English while Touma knuckles the sleepy sand from his tear ducts.
“Profoundly disturbing as always, Touma,” Noriko says. She’s found an unusual way to relax in the bucket seats, lying on her back with her legs tented over the armrest. The corset she wore for the concert doesn’t match the sweatpants she put on in the airport bathroom, but she’s too tired to undo the laces and change into something with sleeves and a higher neckline. Touma will give her his coat on the plane anyway, so they don’t badger her about it.
“It’s always a pleasure reinforcing your ominous perception of me, Noriko-chan,” Touma says.
Kumaguro paws his belt. The bunny is now sitting sidesaddle on Touma’s thigh. “Were you afraid?” Kumaguro asks.
Touma smoothes Ryuichi’s bangs aside with one lazy stroke of his hand. The strands artfully tumble back into place. “I knew I was dreaming,” he says, which is the same as saying, yes, but not for long. Ryuichi understands.
Its job done, the bunny returns unceremoniously back into Ryuichi’s bag. “Noriko, may I have a pen?”
“No. You’ll gnaw on the cap.”
“I won’t!”
“Yes, you will, I know you will.”
“I really, really, really won’t!”
“You really, really, really, really will!”
“No no no no no!”
“Yes yes yes yes yes yes—”
“Give him a pencil,” Touma interjects mildly.
Noriko’s lips press into an unhappy moue, but she dips into her purse and finds Ryuichi a pencil. Ryuichi hugs her outstretched arm, his eyes becoming delighted blue plates. “Thank you thank you, Noriko-chan!”
Noriko gently wrestles her arm away. Creatively armed, Ryuichi hunches like a G, bending over the pad of paper on his knees. He scribbles out English words on the ribbons of paper. Inspired, Ryuichi goes silent.
As a result, the next twenty minutes are dull. Touma falls asleep again and Noriko hums bits of some other band’s songs. Touma exhales a sleeping breath and Ryuichi loops an arm around one of Touma’s calves, warming Touma’s knee with his cheek. Ryuichi writes steadily, unconsciously synching the pencil’s scratching with Touma’s low breathing.
Finally, he flings the pencil away and flexes his fingers. “Nyaahh,” he complains, “music hurts.”
Noriko snorts.
Ryuichi props his chin on Touma’s knee. “Ne, Touma! Touma! Activate, Touma-bot!”
“Beep,” Touma says, eyes still closed.
Ryuichi grins. Noriko drapes an arm over her face and says, “I hate boys and their brainless movies.”
“Toumanator!”
Touma opens his eyes and winks at Ryuichi. “I’m back.”
“Good grief.”
“Look, Touma, I finished a song!” Ryuichi drops the scraps in Touma’s lap, curving both hands over his leg like an expectant puppy.
Touma smiles and sifts through the pile. Each strip bears a sentence of English. None of them are numbered. “Are these organized, Ryuichi?” he asks.
“Nope!” Ryuichi picks up two strips and sits one on top of the other. “That’s your job! Mix and match! Arrange a hit song in thirty seconds!”
“A songwriting game?” Touma says. “You’re toying with our future, Ryuichi.”
Ryuichi’s lips curve shrewdly.
“Fair enough,” Touma says.
“Thirty seconds on the clock,” Noriko says, raising her wristwatch. “Go!”
Touma puts two lines together and reads them aloud for Noriko. “‘Make me shining, fragments of my scattered heart/Cutting into space with entwined regret.’”
Ryuichi says, “No, no! Listen—” He picks up another scrap and incorporates it into Touma’s. “‘Cutting into space with entwined regret/Make me shining, fragments of my scattered heart/A radiance that surpasses hope.’”
Touma watches, amused, as Ryuichi starts assembling and reassembling the lyrics by himself. Noriko doesn’t call time at thirty seconds, or forty-five or two hundred, because she knows Ryuichi won’t stop until he’s satisfied. Any game of Ryuichi’s has only temporary rules that are all subject to change at Ryuichi’s whim. Touma and Noriko don’t discourage his methods, believing he’s only coped so well with this life by making it his game.
Touma wakes up convinced it’s only been ten minutes until he hears a cacophony of new voices. Their manager has returned, and it’s his voice that woke Touma, saying, “Sakuma-san, can’t you shake him or something?”
“Why?”
“We need to board, Sakuma-san.”
“So let’s go.”
“But he’s asleep.”
“No, he’s not.”
Touma opens his eyes. “Is our plane here?” he asks.
Obviously relieved, their manager fans himself with their tickets. “Yes, Seguchi-san. We have to board soon.” Strange, how Touma alone unnerves him. Ryuichi usually has that effect on people.
Noriko has changed into a T-shirt, but Touma will still put his coat over her when she falls asleep. The fabric looks cheap, like something she bought before their first album went platinum. When she stretches, the hem hikes up to her ribcage. Not nearly warm enough for air travel.
They have four first class seats. Ryuichi nabs the one next to Touma’s, forcing Noriko to sit with their manager. Ryuichi hasn’t liked their manager ever since he admitted having an allergy to rabbits. There may be another reason, or Ryuichi just enjoys acting annoyed—it hasn’t complicated anything yet, so Touma and Noriko don’t press the issue.
Ryuichi’s favorite part of flying is take-off. Touma hates flying altogether. While they taxi, Ryuichi plops his head on Touma’s shoulder. He moves gradually closer until his nose grazes Touma’s neck. The plane rolls to a stop. Ryuichi sings low, only for Touma. Throughout the rattling and bustling and roaring noise of take-off, Touma can’t hear Ryuichi, but he can feel the vibrations of his throat. Touma mouths the words because he hasn’t heard enough of the melody yet to improvise. When they’ve reached cruising altitude, he can hear Ryuichi singing the same two lines over and over, in increasingly sleepy tones. “‘Make me shining, fragments of my scattered heart/A radiance that surpasses hope.’” Ryuichi falls asleep after Touma does.
Lyrics borrowed from Anime Lyrics dot Com.
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing/characters: Touma/Ryuichi
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,200
Disclaimer: Gravitation does not belong to me.
Summary: Early in Nittle Grasper's career, Ryuichi used a game to write lyrics.
Early on, Ryuichi uses a game to write lyrics. This is when Nittle Grasper still have breaks in their schedule, when they can slouch in the scooped-out seats of airport terminals and only stand out because Ryuichi’s sitting on the floor with his head resting on Touma’s knee. Their manager can leave them to go on a long, involved quest for anyplace that sells coffee past midnight. It’s in Naha, where they’re stuck for three hours waiting for a 2:45 flight to Osaka, that Ryuichi invents his game.
He asks Noriko politely for her planner, then meticulously shreds pages August 2-7 and August 8-13 into long strips. He tries to be quiet and therefore is twice as loud. Muscle shifts under the elbow Ryuichi has propped on Touma’s thigh, signaling Touma’s return from naptime.
Ryuichi feels guilty, then curious. “Were you dreaming?” he asks.
“Mm,” Touma says.
Guided by Ryuichi’s hand, Kumaguro climbs up Touma’s calf. “Quick, what do you remember from your dream?” the bunny demands.
Touma’s prepared for Ryuichi’s seemingly aimless questioning. Answering the bunny instead of the boy, Touma says, “Petals. Someone bright. Like an angel. I couldn’t see more than a silhouette against the dark. Blood on my hands.” Ryuichi faithfully copies down Touma’s answer in English while Touma knuckles the sleepy sand from his tear ducts.
“Profoundly disturbing as always, Touma,” Noriko says. She’s found an unusual way to relax in the bucket seats, lying on her back with her legs tented over the armrest. The corset she wore for the concert doesn’t match the sweatpants she put on in the airport bathroom, but she’s too tired to undo the laces and change into something with sleeves and a higher neckline. Touma will give her his coat on the plane anyway, so they don’t badger her about it.
“It’s always a pleasure reinforcing your ominous perception of me, Noriko-chan,” Touma says.
Kumaguro paws his belt. The bunny is now sitting sidesaddle on Touma’s thigh. “Were you afraid?” Kumaguro asks.
Touma smoothes Ryuichi’s bangs aside with one lazy stroke of his hand. The strands artfully tumble back into place. “I knew I was dreaming,” he says, which is the same as saying, yes, but not for long. Ryuichi understands.
Its job done, the bunny returns unceremoniously back into Ryuichi’s bag. “Noriko, may I have a pen?”
“No. You’ll gnaw on the cap.”
“I won’t!”
“Yes, you will, I know you will.”
“I really, really, really won’t!”
“You really, really, really, really will!”
“No no no no no!”
“Yes yes yes yes yes yes—”
“Give him a pencil,” Touma interjects mildly.
Noriko’s lips press into an unhappy moue, but she dips into her purse and finds Ryuichi a pencil. Ryuichi hugs her outstretched arm, his eyes becoming delighted blue plates. “Thank you thank you, Noriko-chan!”
Noriko gently wrestles her arm away. Creatively armed, Ryuichi hunches like a G, bending over the pad of paper on his knees. He scribbles out English words on the ribbons of paper. Inspired, Ryuichi goes silent.
As a result, the next twenty minutes are dull. Touma falls asleep again and Noriko hums bits of some other band’s songs. Touma exhales a sleeping breath and Ryuichi loops an arm around one of Touma’s calves, warming Touma’s knee with his cheek. Ryuichi writes steadily, unconsciously synching the pencil’s scratching with Touma’s low breathing.
Finally, he flings the pencil away and flexes his fingers. “Nyaahh,” he complains, “music hurts.”
Noriko snorts.
Ryuichi props his chin on Touma’s knee. “Ne, Touma! Touma! Activate, Touma-bot!”
“Beep,” Touma says, eyes still closed.
Ryuichi grins. Noriko drapes an arm over her face and says, “I hate boys and their brainless movies.”
“Toumanator!”
Touma opens his eyes and winks at Ryuichi. “I’m back.”
“Good grief.”
“Look, Touma, I finished a song!” Ryuichi drops the scraps in Touma’s lap, curving both hands over his leg like an expectant puppy.
Touma smiles and sifts through the pile. Each strip bears a sentence of English. None of them are numbered. “Are these organized, Ryuichi?” he asks.
“Nope!” Ryuichi picks up two strips and sits one on top of the other. “That’s your job! Mix and match! Arrange a hit song in thirty seconds!”
“A songwriting game?” Touma says. “You’re toying with our future, Ryuichi.”
Ryuichi’s lips curve shrewdly.
“Fair enough,” Touma says.
“Thirty seconds on the clock,” Noriko says, raising her wristwatch. “Go!”
Touma puts two lines together and reads them aloud for Noriko. “‘Make me shining, fragments of my scattered heart/Cutting into space with entwined regret.’”
Ryuichi says, “No, no! Listen—” He picks up another scrap and incorporates it into Touma’s. “‘Cutting into space with entwined regret/Make me shining, fragments of my scattered heart/A radiance that surpasses hope.’”
Touma watches, amused, as Ryuichi starts assembling and reassembling the lyrics by himself. Noriko doesn’t call time at thirty seconds, or forty-five or two hundred, because she knows Ryuichi won’t stop until he’s satisfied. Any game of Ryuichi’s has only temporary rules that are all subject to change at Ryuichi’s whim. Touma and Noriko don’t discourage his methods, believing he’s only coped so well with this life by making it his game.
Touma wakes up convinced it’s only been ten minutes until he hears a cacophony of new voices. Their manager has returned, and it’s his voice that woke Touma, saying, “Sakuma-san, can’t you shake him or something?”
“Why?”
“We need to board, Sakuma-san.”
“So let’s go.”
“But he’s asleep.”
“No, he’s not.”
Touma opens his eyes. “Is our plane here?” he asks.
Obviously relieved, their manager fans himself with their tickets. “Yes, Seguchi-san. We have to board soon.” Strange, how Touma alone unnerves him. Ryuichi usually has that effect on people.
Noriko has changed into a T-shirt, but Touma will still put his coat over her when she falls asleep. The fabric looks cheap, like something she bought before their first album went platinum. When she stretches, the hem hikes up to her ribcage. Not nearly warm enough for air travel.
They have four first class seats. Ryuichi nabs the one next to Touma’s, forcing Noriko to sit with their manager. Ryuichi hasn’t liked their manager ever since he admitted having an allergy to rabbits. There may be another reason, or Ryuichi just enjoys acting annoyed—it hasn’t complicated anything yet, so Touma and Noriko don’t press the issue.
Ryuichi’s favorite part of flying is take-off. Touma hates flying altogether. While they taxi, Ryuichi plops his head on Touma’s shoulder. He moves gradually closer until his nose grazes Touma’s neck. The plane rolls to a stop. Ryuichi sings low, only for Touma. Throughout the rattling and bustling and roaring noise of take-off, Touma can’t hear Ryuichi, but he can feel the vibrations of his throat. Touma mouths the words because he hasn’t heard enough of the melody yet to improvise. When they’ve reached cruising altitude, he can hear Ryuichi singing the same two lines over and over, in increasingly sleepy tones. “‘Make me shining, fragments of my scattered heart/A radiance that surpasses hope.’” Ryuichi falls asleep after Touma does.
Lyrics borrowed from Anime Lyrics dot Com.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 01:55 pm (UTC)I once read that David Bowie wrote lyrics sometimes with random scraps of paper like this.:)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 03:21 am (UTC)I didn't know that! David Bowie is numerous kinds of awesome.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 03:19 am (UTC)Also? *Squeezes your icon*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-28 09:09 pm (UTC)“Ne, Touma! Touma! Activate, Touma-bot!”
“Beep,”
XDDD
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 03:44 pm (UTC)But hooray for Gravi fic! \o/ The whole idea is brilliant (and sneaky! I love how the reader thinks nothing about Ryuichi tearing the paper strips until he starts writing on them.) and so well executed. I love how gentle and accepting Touma is with him. You are now my measuring stick for this fandom. ♥
AND THERE IS NEVER A REASON TO TONE DOWN THE RYUICHI/TOUMA. NEVER.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 04:54 am (UTC)Touma is so much different around Ryuichi, and every time I watch the series, their scenes are just about the most adorable to watch. They're so similar in the facades they put on--Ryuichi more than Touma, I think. Touma has the rare moment of vulnerability around Eiri and Ryuichi, but if you think about it, Ryuichi doesn't actually have anyone outside of Nittle Grasper. And Noriko, loves him though she does, seems to buy into his act rather than look past it. I can see Ryuichi and Touma both getting a kick out of playing their personae against each other, all the while knowing it's a game.
...I ♥ YOU, RYUICHI.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 04:55 am (UTC)Note to self: Yes, the snow is pretty. It is not, however, cohesive to typing intelligent thoughts. You dumbass.