|prose...again, cause im a retard ^_~
||[Aug. 13th, 2004|07:29 pm]
Shuichi watched the ladybug directly above his bed as it crawled ever so slowly along the cracks and lines, intent on making it's way to wherever it was ladybugs always seemed to need to go when the warmth of summer was buzzing in the air. To anyone else it would've looked like a singular spec of a thing on the ceiling, barely worth noticing. But the pink haired vocalist had hit rock bottom in the book of boredom, and thus watching the little bug seemed to be better than anything on tv.|
Besides, he reasoned with himself, seeing all the news reports about himself on the music network was getting to be annoying. They were playing the first single video to death, and if the truth had to be told, Shuichi HATED that video. Oh sure, it had been cool to look at when he was done. But the producer had been a jackass, the makeup artist had been a complete ditz, and four straight days of singing on a cliff and in the woods had drained him to the point of exhaustion. ...That and he always thought he looked completely moronic in that video; one of the ONLY times he'd ever agree with Yuki over anything of the sort.
Now that was another tender subject. Sighing to himself in the big empty room, Shuichi let his mind wander and tried not to focus on the exquisite pang in his chest that sent his vision instantly blurry. He missed the writer, in ways that even Shuichi himself was surprised with. He'd been able to dissapear for days at a time with nothing more than a cheerful phone call to his lover. He'd managed to go home for full weekends to visit his parents. He'd managed to do a short local tour that kept him occupied for days. But being stuck mere blocks from home, knowing that the object of his affection was not only close, but so close he could ~taste~ it, that was more than he could take. He wanted to go home. Not just in the hated to be in the hospital sort of way. He desperately WANTED to be home. He missed the cushiness of the couch, and sitting in Yuki's office on the floor, propped up against his desk as the writer clicked away at the keyboard. He missed the somewhat cranky, off-expressions of the blond in the mornings, when his hair was all messed up and standing every what way. Those were the sounds, the sights, the smells of pure comfort. And damn but if Shuichi didn't need some comfort.
Scrubbing irritably at his eyes with the back of one hand, he watched the ladybug skirt it's way toward the open window of his room and eventually fly off without so much as a backward glance. After all, ladybugs led nice, easy, simple lives. They were free to do what they wanted.
He turned his gaze back to the textured ceiling, sighing one more time as he spoke to no one in particular, and anyone that was willing to listen. "Someone...get me ~out~ of here."