Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ There's Rue For You ❯ And Here's Some for Me ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Disclaimer: I don’t own Weiss, nor Ophelia, that one’s William’s.
AN: This is just a little something the brain decided to dwell upon, a ten-minute fic if you will.
There’s Rue for You
“If I could choose…it would be like Ophelia.
“Floating, tangled in my own hair…tranquil…suspended, drifting…cold…Millais made her a redhead, you know, but the model died…beautiful.
“Ophelia.
“Covered in flowers that speak . . . fennel and columbine, pansies for thoughts…daisies gone, and abortative, bitter rue…
“She falls from a willow . . . rosemary, for remembrance…that’s for him, her lover.
“They speak, when she’s silent.
“A graceful, potent death.”
“A suicide,” the other interjected, his voice harsh in the dark room.
“Ah,” his companion granted it. Their fingers brushed as he took the bottle, tipping it against his lips and only half feeling the heated rush of whiskey as it plunged into his stomach. He rested the bottle on the floor, sinking further back against the wall, letting his head drop there.
The bottle changed hands again.
“She died for love, though.”
“What’s the difference?”
A soul-sick smile, “I think I’ll die of hate.”
“Aya…”
“Don’t talk.”
“Then shut up about all this dying bullshit. You make me nervous.”
Aya laughed, low and quiet and dark.
“Would you bring me flowers, Yohji?”
“What do you want me to say here?”
Nothing, just a gentle shaking of his head, but his eyes were sad in the meager light from the window.
The blonde took another drink, then another. “I can’t deal with this shit.”
Shifting himself off the floor, bottle still in hand, he went to lean over his friend. Aya looked up at him with those same, sad eyes, and Yohji leaned down and kissed him hard and demanding. He dropped to one knee to fit their bodies together, pressing his tongue into Aya’s mouth as he felt a hand grab desperately at his shirt. He growled, low, and pressed closer, fighting the need to breath until his head felt light.
He pulled back, but only a little, still close enough to let their breath mix as they stared each other down in the cold room.
“Don’t worry, Yohji,” Aya breathed heavily, “I’ve always been Hamlet anyway.”
~fin~
Author’s Note: It’s been a while, so I hope I got all the flowers right! My BA may be revoked if not… Oh, please review! It makes the author happy and prevents more dark fics without plot, ne?
AN: This is just a little something the brain decided to dwell upon, a ten-minute fic if you will.
There’s Rue for You
“If I could choose…it would be like Ophelia.
“Floating, tangled in my own hair…tranquil…suspended, drifting…cold…Millais made her a redhead, you know, but the model died…beautiful.
“Ophelia.
“Covered in flowers that speak . . . fennel and columbine, pansies for thoughts…daisies gone, and abortative, bitter rue…
“She falls from a willow . . . rosemary, for remembrance…that’s for him, her lover.
“They speak, when she’s silent.
“A graceful, potent death.”
“A suicide,” the other interjected, his voice harsh in the dark room.
“Ah,” his companion granted it. Their fingers brushed as he took the bottle, tipping it against his lips and only half feeling the heated rush of whiskey as it plunged into his stomach. He rested the bottle on the floor, sinking further back against the wall, letting his head drop there.
The bottle changed hands again.
“She died for love, though.”
“What’s the difference?”
A soul-sick smile, “I think I’ll die of hate.”
“Aya…”
“Don’t talk.”
“Then shut up about all this dying bullshit. You make me nervous.”
Aya laughed, low and quiet and dark.
“Would you bring me flowers, Yohji?”
“What do you want me to say here?”
Nothing, just a gentle shaking of his head, but his eyes were sad in the meager light from the window.
The blonde took another drink, then another. “I can’t deal with this shit.”
Shifting himself off the floor, bottle still in hand, he went to lean over his friend. Aya looked up at him with those same, sad eyes, and Yohji leaned down and kissed him hard and demanding. He dropped to one knee to fit their bodies together, pressing his tongue into Aya’s mouth as he felt a hand grab desperately at his shirt. He growled, low, and pressed closer, fighting the need to breath until his head felt light.
He pulled back, but only a little, still close enough to let their breath mix as they stared each other down in the cold room.
“Don’t worry, Yohji,” Aya breathed heavily, “I’ve always been Hamlet anyway.”
~fin~
Author’s Note: It’s been a while, so I hope I got all the flowers right! My BA may be revoked if not… Oh, please review! It makes the author happy and prevents more dark fics without plot, ne?