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Post by ensenga on Jan 8, 2013 15:55:49 GMT -8
 ENSENGAsixteen (eighteen) | male | player | n/a | yamazaki morioThe Character
She's strong, he's not, and that's the way it's always been since the day they first met. He was eight years old and the boy all the other boys didn't want to play with because he couldn't run as fast as they could, couldn't jump as high as they could, couldn't pitch or swing or anything because everything he did left him kneeling on the ground, his head dizzy and his vision spinning as everyone else sprinted away. He tried calling out to them but couldn't; his breath came short and they ran and ran until their silhouettes faded into distant specks.
Nobody wanted him, you know? Nobody wanted this little four-eyed glasses geek bringing his team down and yet here he was tagging along anyway. It got to the point where they'd recruit an extra person every time he showed up, so they could tell him hey, sorry man, there's just no room for you. Why don't you sit over there, on the sidelines? We'll call you if we need you.
And he was okay with that. It was okay for everyone to play without him. He belonged there behind that white line, on the cold metal bench that he alone sat upon. His place was to watch everyone else run and wonder questions he didn't want the answer to, like if maybe they might possibly pick him to play today. The one day he accidentally answered his own question, he found he couldn't watch the other boys anymore because his vision had gotten all blurry.
He bowed his head down to cover his eyes. Real boys didn't cry.
"Hey!"
He rubbed his eyes, and looked out to the field at the speaker. She was the one girl all the guys wanted on their team because she ran faster than they could, jumped higher than they could, pitched and swung better than anyone else could. She ran toward him with the sun at her back and extended a hand.
"You wanna play too, right?" She gave him a toothy grin. "Let's switch places, then."
She was covered in dirt and sweat but there was such strength in those amber eyes that he thought she was beautiful anyway.
And eight years later, he still thinks the same way. They walk to school together alongside the rest of their friend group nowadays, but he's noticed that she never looks at him like he looks at her, that her eyes never stray from the path ahead. She's throttling ahead full-speed and he's left in her wake, wondering what he can do to get her to turn his way again. He's changed since that day, you know? He can run a mile without stopping now. He can jump half a meter now. He can strike people out and hit home-runs. He's even gotten rid of his geeky looks; he's got new hair and new clothes, all following the latest fashion trends, yet she never says anything about it. Every time he changes, she looks at him for maybe a second longer before giving him her usual wave and hello.
What else does he need to do then? How much more does he need to change? He thinks on it for a while. Is it the glasses? He's kept them because he heard contacts were difficult to get used to, but who knows, maybe she doesn't like her guys with glasses. He picks up his contacts the following week and though his eyes feel all dry and itchy when he puts them on the next school day, he's got a good feeling about this and strides out to their meeting spot with confidence.
This time, she stares when she sees him. "Morning," she says, looking perplexed. "Where'd your glasses go?"
"Gone!" he announces. "I replaced them with contacts."
"Oh, I see." She looks thoughtful. "But don't contacts take a while to get used to?"
"Well, they're working fine for me!" The world goes cloudy for a moment; he laughs it off. "In any case, what do you think? Looks good, right?"
"Hmm," she starts but there's a voice in the distance; the rest of their friends have arrived. "Hey!" she calls back, waving before turning back to him. "Let's go see them!" she says, and before he can reply she's off like lightning. He reaches a hand out to her -- wait -- and his feet carry him into a run until he's almost caught up.
But suddenly he can't see; his vision blurs and before he knows it his foot hits a rock and he hits the floor. His palms are scratched and burning; he scrabbles up to his knees, his head dizzy and his vision spinning as he glances up. Her figure is but a speck in the distance.
It hits him then that everything's the same as it was eight years ago. She's strong and he's not. Nothing's really changed at all.
The RPername kirbop
face claim vocaloid, kagamine len
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