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Ayame, What Price Happiness part 1 - Glaring Dreams

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April 23rd, 2006


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02:23 am - Ayame, What Price Happiness part 1
I am feeling melancholy. I have been looking over all my old unfinished stuff and I feel sort of sad. I especially feel sad about my two Ayame fics. I had put so much effort into those. I look at them and go... did I really write that? They do deserve to see the light of day. I had been so fussy with them because Ayame is so dear to me so I wanted them to be perfect. But that just isn't going to happen, the perfection part. I had set them aside when I was role playing a lot. I have posted teasers of them here and there before. So...I think I like to dust off my old notes and try to finish them. That will be my goal for this year. I want to finish them and it will happen this year.

edit:

Ok, I want to get the ball rolling on this goal. I will repost this in my achive journal (frozenspring) under a better format when I am done. This will be part 1 of the fic. I just will break it up in smaller parts, it was to be 3 parts. I will just make it 6 smaller parts so it will be easier to work with (why I didn't think of this before is beyond me. I think I had it in my head that chapters had to be long or something like that). Part 3 is typed out (but not part 4 but part 5 is) but not part 2 yet, which I have to type out from my old notes.

A Fruit Basket fic.
Not totally edited (edited some more on 4/24/2006 at 5:30pm)
Characters:Ayame, Hatori, Shigure and others
Rating:G
Type:Drama, Angst, some humor, mild shonen-ai
Notes:This takes place during the high school days of the trio
Written:Sept 30, 2002
Word Count:850


"What Price Happiness, part 1"

by Yui (Takiko)


Ayame called an afternoon school meeting. He was class president and had his own office.
Granted it was small and in the basement by the boiler, but it was his. When he became
president he had the room freshly painted a rich cream, and he hung lengths of cloth to
give it a richer appearance and dampen the humming noise of the boiler. He selected the
patterns of white cranes, light golden yellow butterflies and pale pink sakura blossoms set
in a backdrop of vibrabrate reds. It was much cheaper then real tapestries and he took the
time to hem and trim them until they’d hanged just right. He surprised some by taking on
that task of making the makeshift tapestries, but he felt compelled to and he enjoyed it. He
let the others of the council move the furniture and paint as he worked on that fabric.

The desk was a large old oak one, heavy, and had deep scratches in it. It had character, and the
deep grooves, he felt as he passed his hand over it, held history. A sheet of glass was
placed on top but not before the desk was polished. The chair was over stuffed and
mushy, but he fitted it with new slip covers. Though he had to skip on the price due to the
school funds, he still found a pleasing fabric of black plush. He liked to lean back into the
soft black and let his contrasting pale features and hair make his appearance more
compelling and of course more attractive. He also made sure there were fresh flowers
daily too. Nothing too fancy but he went for simplicity and had a single elegant flower in a
white porcelain vase. Usually a Japanese iris, his name sake, or others like peony or lily. It
depended on the month.

He had called the meeting under false pretenses. There would only be three. He wanted to
talk to Shigure and Hatori alone, and in his office he felt would be best. He felt somehow
secure here. He didn’t know why, but when he looked around in tiny cramped room that
he made comfortable, that he gave a bit of himself to make better, he felt prideful.

He smiled and his heart beat calmly as he sat back and pretended to work on the up coming
culture fair. Not pretend, he had every intention, but his attention wandered and he busied
himself reading the latest j-pop gossip magazine and studying what his favorite singer was
wearing. It somehow seemed more important, and the fair would get planed. Details,
details, he knew them. With his intuitiveness and original thinking, he was sure that it
would be a brilliant success. He really was a planner; it didn’t look like it, but everything he
did had a reason and purpose, but he only seemed to know.

He then realized he didn’t have refreshments for the meeting. What a poor host he would
be, and he didn’t have anyone to send for them. Dropping the magazine, he rushed out the
door closing it but not locking it. He would be late, but if he hurried he would be back before
they waited too long. Planing, organizing, and he couldn’t disappoint, even his cousins.

He unlocked the bicycle and straddled the seat and took off to the local convenience store not
more then three streets away. He was glad the air was mild and wind was light and the sun
hiding behind the clouds. He didn’t want to over-heat then he would be really late. The
wind rushed through his shoulder length silver hair and snapped at his black school
uniform. It was the standard one. He didn’t like it much because the fabric was too stiff,
but when he looked in the mirror after he put it on he had to admitted that it looked good
on him. Somehow the high collar and the tailored look suited him.

He arrived at the store and locked the bike by a small tree. His breath was a little irregular,
and he was flushed from all the rushing so he stood a moment under the small sapling,
leaning his hand against it, willing himself not to transform as if he really had the power to
do so. He didn’t; he just thought positive it wasn’t going to happen and if it did he would
deal with that when it came. Luckily, he didn’t have to worry. His pulse rate steadied and
the breeze cooled his heated body. He straighten himself and smoothed out his uniform
before he strode in with his shoulders squared and head held high. It made him look taller
that way. People couldn’t tell by a glance who was taller him or Gure-kun, because the silly
dog slouched often, not like Tori-kun. The dragon always stood tall, unless he was worried
then his shoulders drooped a bit. Funny how he noticed that trait about his stoic cousin.
The shop wasn’t empty nor did he think it would be with the time of day it was.

Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
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