Samurai Flamenco - Remember Me [Gotoyoshi]
Sep. 2nd, 2014 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scriveynerTitle: Remember Me
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 642
Summary:
It was the eyes.
Gotou’s head hurt like hell - the pain stabbed through his temples and throbbed behind his eyes, it felt like he had gone ten rounds with a garbage truck and was only still standing by virtue of having nowhere to fall down. The last few days were a blur - he couldn’t sort his memories out, they didn’t make any sense to him in the order that they were in now - but he kept arriving to eyes, large familiar eyes, blue-grey with soft lashes, eyes that seemed to look through him and that understood him and it didn’t make any sense. Every time he thought on it more, every time he tried to paint a picture around those eyes further his headache got worse and he shied away from the pain.
Work was strangely, distressingly normal. He didn’t understand what was missing from his routine, that anything was missing. There was a gap somewhere, a hole in the fabric of the universe that needed to be plugged and no one noticed the strangeness but him.
“You need more sleep,” Nick told him when they drank after work.
Sleep wouldn’t come easily, though. He would lay on his back in the bed and stare at the ceiling, the room painted in a faint orange glow from the street lamp outside. Everything felt wrong. The bed, this bed he had had for years, ever since he first got assigned in this district and moved into the single-room apartment - it felt too big and too empty. Aggravated he got up and measured it, certain that someone was playing a prank on him - but no, the bed hadn’t changed dimensions, his apartment hadn’t changed from the way it looked this morning, from the way it looked two weeks ago or even two years ago.
When he did sleep finally, restlessly, he dreamed of familiar eyes.
Gotou woke to an empty bed, an empty apartment. He flailed over the side of the bed, looking for his cell phone - it was no longer a flip phone, when had he swapped it out? The smooth-panel phone felt foreign in his hands, and unsettled he slid it under his pillow and stared blankly across the room.
In the bath he realized he was wearing a ring, and he didn’t know why.
Another day, another shift - staring out at the world, sunny and bright and still strangely muted, like the color palette had been shifted down. Gotou stood at attention, shoulders and back straight, and listened to Nick inside the koban cracking bad jokes and getting scolded for not doing his paperwork. He scanned the street, looking for trouble among the pedestrians, spotted a familiar tuft of hair and started - and then wondered, why is that familiar?
He is sleeping less and less. Gotou wanders the streets at night - sits outside one of the few remaining phone booths in town and smokes a cigarette, staring at the small patch of sky this dark stretch allows him to see. He twists the ring on his finger, doesn’t take it off - the pain in his head twinges and then fades.
What is going on? It’s not nothing, he’s not crazy, no matter what others think of him he knows where the line of sanity in his life lies - something is wrong with the world and he doesn’t know what it is. It bothers him, it bothers him a lot.
He dreams of blue eyes and sandy hair, worried eyes, almost sad - he wakes to a damp pillow that he throws across the room in aggravation.
He is going crazy.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 642
Summary:
It was the eyes.
Gotou’s head hurt like hell - the pain stabbed through his temples and throbbed behind his eyes, it felt like he had gone ten rounds with a garbage truck and was only still standing by virtue of having nowhere to fall down. The last few days were a blur - he couldn’t sort his memories out, they didn’t make any sense to him in the order that they were in now - but he kept arriving to eyes, large familiar eyes, blue-grey with soft lashes, eyes that seemed to look through him and that understood him and it didn’t make any sense. Every time he thought on it more, every time he tried to paint a picture around those eyes further his headache got worse and he shied away from the pain.
Work was strangely, distressingly normal. He didn’t understand what was missing from his routine, that anything was missing. There was a gap somewhere, a hole in the fabric of the universe that needed to be plugged and no one noticed the strangeness but him.
“You need more sleep,” Nick told him when they drank after work.
Sleep wouldn’t come easily, though. He would lay on his back in the bed and stare at the ceiling, the room painted in a faint orange glow from the street lamp outside. Everything felt wrong. The bed, this bed he had had for years, ever since he first got assigned in this district and moved into the single-room apartment - it felt too big and too empty. Aggravated he got up and measured it, certain that someone was playing a prank on him - but no, the bed hadn’t changed dimensions, his apartment hadn’t changed from the way it looked this morning, from the way it looked two weeks ago or even two years ago.
When he did sleep finally, restlessly, he dreamed of familiar eyes.
Gotou woke to an empty bed, an empty apartment. He flailed over the side of the bed, looking for his cell phone - it was no longer a flip phone, when had he swapped it out? The smooth-panel phone felt foreign in his hands, and unsettled he slid it under his pillow and stared blankly across the room.
In the bath he realized he was wearing a ring, and he didn’t know why.
Another day, another shift - staring out at the world, sunny and bright and still strangely muted, like the color palette had been shifted down. Gotou stood at attention, shoulders and back straight, and listened to Nick inside the koban cracking bad jokes and getting scolded for not doing his paperwork. He scanned the street, looking for trouble among the pedestrians, spotted a familiar tuft of hair and started - and then wondered, why is that familiar?
He is sleeping less and less. Gotou wanders the streets at night - sits outside one of the few remaining phone booths in town and smokes a cigarette, staring at the small patch of sky this dark stretch allows him to see. He twists the ring on his finger, doesn’t take it off - the pain in his head twinges and then fades.
What is going on? It’s not nothing, he’s not crazy, no matter what others think of him he knows where the line of sanity in his life lies - something is wrong with the world and he doesn’t know what it is. It bothers him, it bothers him a lot.
He dreams of blue eyes and sandy hair, worried eyes, almost sad - he wakes to a damp pillow that he throws across the room in aggravation.
He is going crazy.
