Austure

I'll qualify this circumstance,
broadcast, renew this chance.

He was eager, like a puppy, and aware that he was acting like it too. He bounced on his toes, hopping slightly, unable to stand still even though that’s what he wanted more than anything. Well, not more than anything, but it would be nice not to look like a complete moron when she finally showed up. Their first date. He felt like walking up to complete strangers and telling them, but instead he stood on the corner. Waiting. Hair whipping in the breeze and a stupid grin on his face as he practically danced.

Pin hope on this promise.

She said she’d be there. His eyes darted over the thin crowds of people. Searching for her too-familiar face. Her walk was one of a kind, he didn’t even need to see her face to know if it was her, but he loved her face. Her eyes. He’d touched her before, but that was innocent, and not just because. Not without a reason. He didn’t want to need a reason to reach out and brush her hair from her face. He waited, impatiently. Searching. She’d be there.

Graduate to this settled score.

They hadn’t been friends, hadn’t had a reason to be, for a long time. Childhood friendships are lost all the time. Nothing new or out of the ordinary there. Like growing out of a pair of pants or an old, but comfortable shirt. You didn’t want to throw it away, but it didn’t fit anymore. He hadn’t known how much he could missed her till it seemed like she was gone. He’d been mad, and she’d been pissed that he hadn’t said something. He missed her voice, though he never admitted it. But they were friends again now. She promised to be here.

Projects through mansion doors.

He didn’t blame her for leaving him behind all those years ago. He would have done the same thing. She’d had the chance to better her life, had entered the ranks of high society. He didn’t kid himself that he would have fit into her life at the time. She’d had enough to get used to, without worrying about how an old friend would react around rarified finery. When would she show? His frantic, impatient dance slowed as he his head swiveled to once more run his eyes over the ever-fewer people walking by. It was getting late.

Stand up, dust yourself off.

He’d been hurt when she just up and left. He was man enough to admit that. But he’d done his best to make himself better. Look how far he’d come. Look what he’d done to save her. And even after getting his ass kicked by her brother, his captain, he’d still kept trying. The twinge of remembered pain made him rub his shoulder absently.

It's troubled now by swelling tide,
bleached hope and sandstone lies.

He’d never been good at giving up. He’d been standing there for an hour. The excitement he’d felt earlier was gone. Still, he figured he’d stand there for a little longer, just in case. It’s not like he had anything better to do.

You're dazed in the moment.

Was it something he’d said? Something he’d done? He leaned back against the rough brick of the wall behind him, allowing the shadows to cover him. He riffled through his pockets for a pack of smokes. He stood for about five minutes, holding a cigarette, before he realized he needed to dig out a lighter, too. He remembered the look on her face when he’d offered to carry her away from the execution ground. She’d smelled so good.

This time I'll get it right.

He let his body slide down to a squatting position. He felt all kinds of stupid. He’d hoped that he’d get the opportunity to hang out with his friend again. Talk to her, ask her how she was… Who was he kidding? He wanted to fuck her brains out, but he’d be perfectly, well mostly, content with just sitting across a table from her.

You can't defend it, it's predetermined.

There was a pile of butt’s to his left. He knew he’d been stood up, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and actually leave quite yet. What would he say to her next time they met? Which would probably be the next day. Would she remember that they were supposed to have gotten together? His cheeks flamed in embarrassment. He thought back to when it was just them against the world… He’d never thought that either of them would end up where they were.

You know I'll sit at the bottom space,
trace lines in the vacant face.

He’d hadn’t been there for her adoption ceremony, but by all accounts it had been beautiful. He couldn’t imagine seeing her in anything other than her uniform anymore. Sure, there was the school uniform, her other World of the Living clothes, but an actual formal kimono? He’d never owned anything of the sort. Never had any need. Never would have any need for any such thing. His uniform, a “nothing special” kimono to lounge in, and the jeans and tees he wore in the World of the Living, that’s all he had. All he apparently needed. Noble and grown up gutter-rat didn’t belong together, obviously.

It's all about to change.

The streets were officially empty. No one had walked by for ten minutes or more (another smoldering butt deposited on the ground). He couldn’t feel his legs. He was annoyed, a little sad, verging on pissed. She could have just said no. She said no all the time, particularly to him. He used the cramped muscles in his thighs to get himself upright. His feet were tingling unpleasantly by the time he was actually standing. He stretched his arms up, going up on tippy toes as he tried to ease the blood flow back down his body. He didn’t take much notice when he heard steps approaching.

Small flat in a smaller town,
steal hope to pass around.

He walked back to his quarters slowly, pretending that he actually enjoyed the cool night air. So he’d been stood up, and it wasn’t like that hadn’t happened to him before. Still, his feet felt heavy as he trudged back to his quarters. It had been fun to dream that he would be so lucky as to have an evening with her for company. It was possibly ridiculous to think that it would have happened, but it had been nice to hope for, nonetheless. Bitterness was not an emotion he indulged in, but if he’d been so inclined, he certainly would have felt the long walk back to his quarters alone, to be an appropriate time to do so.

You're caught up in the memory.

What irked him the most, perhaps, were the memories, of the good and bad times they’d shared. He seemed to be immersed in them, regardless of the intentions he had to be perfectly fine with the way things had shaken out for him. Her smell in particular seemed to be haunting him… And her voice.

These shores aren't out of reach.

She was out of breath and her hair was a mess, but she’d never looked so beautiful to him. “Sorry I’m late,” were now his three favorite words. Her lips tasted better than she smelled.


~*~

Not exactly long, I know. But I battled my writers block with one of my favorite albums, Austure by Sparta, it's short and older, but awesome... Also, first attempt at songfic in it's literal form. Will be 'doing' the other three songs on the album in a different style. And they will be a li'l dirtier than this. (When I have time, natch.)
You know me, (as sexybleach once said about herself) I'm a big, ol' perv. I try not to be, but I can't help it. I'm actually proud there's nary a twat or cock in sight in this one. Hah.
Anyway, am working diligently on 'Words', and hope to be finished with that shortly.
Happy new year, all!