pairing: Miharu/Yoite, of Nabari no Ou
perspective: Second person
period: Later chapters
summary:Miharu reflects on stout, greasy, grubby-winged angels right by a slumbering Yoite.
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I'll throw the ball and acknowledge that Miharu is not entirely in character, but that would squash the entire purpose of the piece, and frankly, would keep me staring at this dribble for hours before I'd finally tear my hair out without a scream.
This is set later in the manga chapters, though, and a certain detail will definitely spoil the notion.
… Not that the summary hasn't.
Huh.
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JUST ALONG THOSE LINES
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Just maybe, just sometimes, Yoite makes you imagine that you're only a boy.
From that thought you're forced to notice how long it has been since then.
Even before Nabari, you weren't "only a boy"— or so you think, and reflexively, your eyebrows furrow.
Before, it tethered on the edge, being a boy; first on the soles, and then on the toes.
After that, you shook, you tipped, and you plunged— and for mere seconds, you squeezed your eyes shut to pretend otherwise.
Yet this branch, it caught you— no, what were those called? Long and slim with stretching arms?
Angels?
But those have wings— like doves, you hear, except dirtier.
Yoite doesn't have those, wings; but, as you stare at his figure, spent and stilled, the index and forefinger rise to skim down along the back of his gaunt shoulders.
Angels are portly; the paintings have the grease along their skin shone.
Yoite is skeletal, and each curve slipping down his body is an angle, is distinct.
That body brought you down, and for a reason, he wouldn't let you go.
You lean even closer, and his body stirs from the warmth of your breath against his lips.
There is a moment's retraction; yet, you drive yourself in, the flush awash throughout your body crawling down to your toes and numbing them.
Against the edge of his lips, you softly press yours.
In that instant after, your legs have worked without your intellect noticing. You stumble, slide across the floor.
Yoite makes you imagine that you're only a boy, just maybe, just sometimes.
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END
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