harmonize_rpg | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Mirai, Miyume.
Where: Dorms then Chitoku.
When: Tuesday, April 18th.
What: Whirlwind in the city.

Mirai inspected his watch as he waited outside the dorm, with bright glimmers of streetlight illuminating behind him against a dusk-shrouded path. These last few minutes took forever to pass - waiting was hard, like forcing yourself to work on an essay about your worst subject. Meanwhile, they piled more work on his shoulders after forcing him to his knees. It wasn't work. He kept imagining he heard his father telling him it was his duty. He had no intention of letting someone as unmerciful as his father tell him about duty.

It was utterly ridiculous. He assumed his father was calculating the kudos he would earn from having a son who was among the brightest hopes for the future. He shut his eyes. Then he whistled to himself and the worry was gone, so silently and quickly that it seemed he was taking no notice of it.

In the relative quiet, he had been keeping a silent watch on the dormitory. Now he saw the door open, not inviting but to let someone escape, and she was waving. Then he whistled his appreciation and set up a camera with his fingers. Seeing the dark sky, particularly such a starry one, had been calming. He hoped very much that other good things would happen.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was later now, with one or two drinks already empty on the table before Mirai and Miyume, who sat in an alcove staring around. It felt so quiet where they were, but out on the floor there was music, and a whole crowd of swirling lithe dancers who were in the darkness too much to be seen clearly. And since Mirai was one of those guys who liked to sit and watch, he was looking out at those he could spot - pink spotlights making it hard - like a predator sizing out prey to call its own.

He was leaning back in the couch, his brow narrowed in thought and he was trying not to pay attention to anybody but the girl sitting next to him. Though with the way his head was turning, it was clear there was very much to see indeed.

Miyume's angelic smile looked somewhat out of place in her current environment. She appreciated Mirai's efforts to keep his eyes on hers; that he was trying hard, even this early in the relationship brought her a curious sense of peace and comfort. She scooted a little closer to him, partly as a reward for his efforts, but mostly because she simply wanted more personal contact. Looking at her, one might assume her to be a bit tipsy but she'd ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri rather than something alcoholic. The last thing she wanted to do was to force the night to an early close and passing out thanks to a bad interaction with her medications.

And in all honesty, Miyume was a bit distracted by all the new sights and sounds of Kobe's night life as well. It was like Mirai had opened the door to an entirely new world for her, one that no one had ever let her so much as glimpse before. There was something both calming and mesmerizing about watching people much older than her dance, some with more abandonment and less discretion than others.

After a moment, she rested a hand on Mirai's knee then spoke.

"Would you like to dance? The music's still a little too fast for me but when a slower one comes on I can dance with you."

Mirai was somewhat left curious by the drinks Miyume put down in front of her. Her face wasn't red, her mouth wasn't half-open, and he heard she could actually speak right. Her hand brushed his knee, just like it had brushed his hair aside earlier that night. He took a drink from his glass. He took another one when he sat back, turning his eyes rapidly to the person sitting beside him.

"Miyume..." His voice faded. He leaned himself into her side, and rubbed his face against her. He then closed his eyes. "Just a moment, then." He was clearly used to resting his head on a girl's bosom, since he was being very confident indeed. "I have to say that you're quite comfortable. You'll let me stay here for a moment?"

There followed a strange and eerie problem. Miyume was wanting to dance but refusing to try anything stronger. He mentally scratched his head - but he was respectful, in his own fashion.

"You can stay as long as you like," Miyume said, shifting slightly to allow him more access and comfort.

As if she'd done this a million times before, she instantly began stroking his hair, toying with individual strands here and there. Comfort was something she knew how to do, the one area Miyume still saw herself as competent in, even if half the time all she told were lies. This time she wasn't, however. There was something completely honest about her body language.

"We don't have to dance if you'd rather do this. I like this, too."

"... Okay."

This answer gave Mirai a few seconds of peace in which to lean in even closer - and as she played with his hair, which gave a wonderful feeling, he thought that he would stay here and enjoy her company even more so. And during several moments did he settle down more comfortably, with her chest supporting his neck.

He did not move or speak, but he had to stretch his legs out over the arm and feel gravity pull them down. There was a rustle of leather when he reached for his drink.

"I have ideas," he said, "about other things to do. But this is good."

"What kinds of ideas?"

She closed her eyes, an almost dream-like contentment washing over her. She touched his temples and began to massage them gently with her fingertips. She sighed, feeling a bit like she was floating on a cloud, far removed from the rest of the world. There was an odd sort of detachment from the dancers and music playing, as if all of that was taking place just outside her reach.

"I'm curious."

Mirai felt the redness of his face heat up. He shut his eyes. Then he began thinking of the ideas he really wanted to try himself. Unfortunately, they did not take Miyume's preferences to mind. His satisfaction was necessary. He had tried romance and charmed her at a whirlwind pace, and responded to her understanding with respect. He had struggled into having her give herself to him, seeking, obtaining and holding power. Now he saw the uses he had in keeping it unused and took her hands to bring them to his chest - wondering when, like the others, he would only grow bored of her. Would this really bring him freedom?

He was clearly very thoughtful. And now, with a murmur, stirring from his rest - not to speak but simply drink. And he stretched out a lithe arm to the small counter, where he placed his glass.

Whatever they did, wherever they were, he was certainly at least expecting self-opinionated and harsh people to confront him. Miyume was a nice girl and they knew exactly his type. It seemed that they were more aware of him than he - though there was something about it that left him dumb and confused at times. All he wanted was to make them writhe so much that he spent some time thinking of his position.

"I don't want to share," he said enticingly. "But if you ask nicely..."

Miyume chuckled to herself and let him hold her hands to his chest. She made no effort to do anything with them or actively touch him any way, however. She was content to just let him do what he wanted for now.

"And how would I best go about that, Mirai?" she asked in soft, oddly mesmerizing tone of voice. "How would you instruct me to ask you nicely?"

"... Hmmm? You'll listen to what I say, won't you?"

Mirai liked different souls running around after him. But something about the comment was off-handed. He simply could not imagine doing anything else at this moment. His needs would fulfill themselves somehow, he knew that. A selfish thing. He reasoned it away with all the excuses he could think of. He was considerate of her feelings. He was being understood at last. He could not resist his humour though, nor how Miyume might turn a shade of red.

"How about massaging me for a moment, Miyume? It might make me think, right?"

"Of course, Master Mirai," Miyume purred playfully, seeming to snap back to attention all of a sudden.

She began to rub her hands slowly in circles across his chest. Her fingers teased the open edges of his button down shirt, seeming like they might slip into it but falling just short of of doing so.

"Any ideas yet?"

Mirai had been enjoying a restful moment on the couch. Now he felt his shirt opening, and a pair of fingers gliding around there. He was curious about this level of intimacy. This felt extraordinarily new. Why was it a surprise? Perhaps it was that he had exhausted all his in previous relationships. Or that he had even tricked himself into believing it was a relationship of mutual affection.

He looked down, and lifted his hands until those underneath were free to move to a place where they wanted. Or hopefully, under his shirt - he was not sure what he wanted.

"... Nope." He didn't sound disappointed - even serious. But he did seem to be searching, and turned a little on his side. "Ah, Miyume? Would you go right a bit? I've got a terrible itch."

Miyume didn't speak, she simply slipped her hands under his shirt, one breaking off to the right to comply with his request for a scratch. Her expression was calm and relaxed; the strain on her face from earlier was nowhere to be seen now.

While she didn't look particularly happy or sad, she did seem to have found a moment of peace. And in a life as riddles with obstacles as hers, peace was more than enough for Hazama Miyume. Happiness faded and sorrow always found its way home to her one way or another.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later:

Re: Sometime Later: