Furuba no Hinansho
folder
Fruits Basket › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
10,604
Reviews:
70
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fruits Basket › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
10,604
Reviews:
70
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Fruits Basket, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 19
Kinyuu 19
Dearest diary,
It…it has been weirder, I do suppose diary. Buy it, I am referring to my ore than interesting life. Because of my constant spontaneous behavior, it is expected my life be full of unexpected happenings. And with most of these unexpected happenings there are usually things that are eerie, very disturbing, and /or ‘it never happened so therefore shall never be remembered’ material.
One of these, of course, would have to include when I ‘accidentally’ eavesdropped and witnessed Kyon-kyon dominating my baby brother. I do believe that would have to go under Hatori’s self-formed ‘It never happened so therefore shall never be remembered. No matter how erotic amusing, and ah—seductive, maybe? —the whole scene was, it is a bit disturbing to see the darling baby brother you look up to being bottomed by the kid you mess around with. Ah—I do believe the correct term for Yuki is ‘uke’.
Yes. Yuki being uke is a very, very disturbing thought, no matter how much he looks the part. However, in other news---
After I returned home (which was, of course, after a long discussion with Yuki concerning Kyon-kyon) I was not surprised to see Hatori present, and when I glanced at my ‘caller ID’ (technology these days; can’t live without it), I noted quickly that Shigure had called many times and left even more messages on my new answering machine. Before Hatori could comment, I deleted all the messages (and yes, dearest diary, my curiosity is still stung from not knowing of what he had to say). I turned to Hatori, making sure there was a smile on my (gorgeous) face. “Why, hello Ha’ri! Such an unpleasant surprise to see you. May I ask what brings you here, on such a wonderful night or, no…rather, I need not your permission to ask. What the hell are you doing here?”
It was probably the foulest, most common thing to eve come out of my mouth. I now realize I should feel ashamed for my...lack of imagination, I suppose. Hmmm. Oh well. As they say in France—Laissez Faire.
Hatori stared at me for awhile, his one eye glowing with some emotion (I dared not decipher) before responding, “Ayame, I am regretful that you had to find out about my and Shigure’s…relationship, the way you did. I never had any intention of hurting you, and I do apolo...\"
“Keep your apologies to yourself, Hatori. I have decided I don’t rather care for excuses right now. Please leave, Hatori.” It had to have been the first time in over 2 decades that I had called him by his first name. I watched him wince, emotion beginning it appear on his face…had my voice been that full of passion? “Leave Hatori. I don’t want you nor your excuses here.” I was beginning to sound like him, I now realize, which was probably why he was looking so helplessly at me. I had never before seen him like that, to be honest diary. It almost scared me... almost. But it seems my anger overrode all of that when Hatori uttered his next line…
“Ayame, I’m sorry…”
“Go toy our damn Shigure, if you want comfort and redemption, Hatori! I am not here for you, any longer.” I am pretty sure, that Shigure had alerted Hatori of my excursions with Kyon-kyon. And I’m glad. I want him hurt. I want…
I want revenge, diary.
He froze, and we stayed like that, fury and raw anger against hurt and disbelief. Finally, he moved, and walked out of my home without second thought. He closed the door, and I found myself alone once again.
And still, dearest diary, even still, several hours later, I still cry. And I’m not exactly sure why, Diary, but I am. And I just wish the tears would stop.
Dearest, dearest diary. I fear, even if I do take my own life, that I’d just be wasting my time, because no matter what, I’m dying inside, and when I do literally die one day, diary.. I fear…I fear..
That no one will miss me, or even care. I’ll die unloved diary, and... and it hurts, diary. For me to think that way. But diary, I really have no other choice to. And I---
I… I need to sleep diary. I need to, desperately. I’ll… I\'ll write tomorrow. Goodbye, dearest diary.
With love,
Sohma Ayame
Dearest diary,
It…it has been weirder, I do suppose diary. Buy it, I am referring to my ore than interesting life. Because of my constant spontaneous behavior, it is expected my life be full of unexpected happenings. And with most of these unexpected happenings there are usually things that are eerie, very disturbing, and /or ‘it never happened so therefore shall never be remembered’ material.
One of these, of course, would have to include when I ‘accidentally’ eavesdropped and witnessed Kyon-kyon dominating my baby brother. I do believe that would have to go under Hatori’s self-formed ‘It never happened so therefore shall never be remembered. No matter how erotic amusing, and ah—seductive, maybe? —the whole scene was, it is a bit disturbing to see the darling baby brother you look up to being bottomed by the kid you mess around with. Ah—I do believe the correct term for Yuki is ‘uke’.
Yes. Yuki being uke is a very, very disturbing thought, no matter how much he looks the part. However, in other news---
After I returned home (which was, of course, after a long discussion with Yuki concerning Kyon-kyon) I was not surprised to see Hatori present, and when I glanced at my ‘caller ID’ (technology these days; can’t live without it), I noted quickly that Shigure had called many times and left even more messages on my new answering machine. Before Hatori could comment, I deleted all the messages (and yes, dearest diary, my curiosity is still stung from not knowing of what he had to say). I turned to Hatori, making sure there was a smile on my (gorgeous) face. “Why, hello Ha’ri! Such an unpleasant surprise to see you. May I ask what brings you here, on such a wonderful night or, no…rather, I need not your permission to ask. What the hell are you doing here?”
It was probably the foulest, most common thing to eve come out of my mouth. I now realize I should feel ashamed for my...lack of imagination, I suppose. Hmmm. Oh well. As they say in France—Laissez Faire.
Hatori stared at me for awhile, his one eye glowing with some emotion (I dared not decipher) before responding, “Ayame, I am regretful that you had to find out about my and Shigure’s…relationship, the way you did. I never had any intention of hurting you, and I do apolo...\"
“Keep your apologies to yourself, Hatori. I have decided I don’t rather care for excuses right now. Please leave, Hatori.” It had to have been the first time in over 2 decades that I had called him by his first name. I watched him wince, emotion beginning it appear on his face…had my voice been that full of passion? “Leave Hatori. I don’t want you nor your excuses here.” I was beginning to sound like him, I now realize, which was probably why he was looking so helplessly at me. I had never before seen him like that, to be honest diary. It almost scared me... almost. But it seems my anger overrode all of that when Hatori uttered his next line…
“Ayame, I’m sorry…”
“Go toy our damn Shigure, if you want comfort and redemption, Hatori! I am not here for you, any longer.” I am pretty sure, that Shigure had alerted Hatori of my excursions with Kyon-kyon. And I’m glad. I want him hurt. I want…
I want revenge, diary.
He froze, and we stayed like that, fury and raw anger against hurt and disbelief. Finally, he moved, and walked out of my home without second thought. He closed the door, and I found myself alone once again.
And still, dearest diary, even still, several hours later, I still cry. And I’m not exactly sure why, Diary, but I am. And I just wish the tears would stop.
Dearest, dearest diary. I fear, even if I do take my own life, that I’d just be wasting my time, because no matter what, I’m dying inside, and when I do literally die one day, diary.. I fear…I fear..
That no one will miss me, or even care. I’ll die unloved diary, and... and it hurts, diary. For me to think that way. But diary, I really have no other choice to. And I---
I… I need to sleep diary. I need to, desperately. I’ll… I\'ll write tomorrow. Goodbye, dearest diary.
With love,
Sohma Ayame