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23371 No. 23371
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY9b6jgbNyc

==

Through woods and plains, you ran.


Through streets and roads you ran.


Through the world, through all the paths, through all the routes, through everything and nothing, you ran, ran, ran and ran.
Despite the fatigue, despite the urge to break away, to cease the chase, to stop, take a breath, look back, regret, and return, in spite of all and more, you ran. Left everything behind, every little treasure you gained and came to know in this little world. In this place, where everything looked as though it was torn away from the usual course of things. The shrine, the city, the lone clinic in the forest - all of it, like a dream, looming vision, a wish of a lost girl, left behind.
Azure sky comes into view when the hike towards the top of a giant stairway ends - the concrete steps still tangible on the soles of your feet, sure to leave a mark or two.

It was the first time in your life you ran so fast.

White clouds, like lumps of candyfloss, lazily sail the firmament, glancing from between the treetops, winking at your hopeless fate. The fate, clutching your wrist so hard it hurts.

"I'll go fetch the rig," A white figure gasps out in between tired wheezes. "You two wait here!"

Then, it takes off in the direction of the building ahead - the first you've seen in this new world. For a brief moment, when the car popped out of nowhere dozens of meters above... When it all begun.
The one holding your arm too, pants heavily, worn out by the chase. How long has it been you've been running away? How long have they been trying to catch you? Ever since the incident with the boy...
The idiot mutters your name, and you direct your displeased glare straight at his sweating face - but only for a bit, then let them shift somewhere else instead. How can he be staring at you with that expression on...?

"We might make it."

"... I hope."

His fingers, wrapped around your wrist, squeeze tighter for a second. Enclosed around it like a poacher's snares, as though letting you go for a single instant would make you run away, scared, afraid of facing what's ahead, and instead return, along with the little one, to the clinic, where he insisted on staying. It's not safe there - you may be telling yourself, but no matter how many times these words ring in your own thoughts, the larger part remains unconvinced. It's scary.
Just having him look at you is scary. His feelings are scary.
Your own... even scarier. Why...?
Snares. Why does it feel like that? And why...?

"...don't let go..."

"Huh?" He turns surprised at your sudden whisper. "Did you say anything?"

"..."

Of course, of course you did. Of course you said that. Because if he lets go... What will become of you? It's not safe here anymore. Not even at the clinic. Not even there. The only way... The only path you can take...
Lays where his feet are.
No matter how - no matter where - no matter why - you're trapped. By your own fate. By his hands - his warm, loving hands that scare you to death whenever they reach for your shoulders, whenever they pull at them, and draw your whole body, against its weak will, into an embrace. Tender, delicate, yet so frightening you can't do anything but remain still, like a startled mouse.

"We'll make it."

"..."

"But if we don't..."

"..."

"I want you to know..."

"..."

"That I..."


"... just say it already."

"... what?"

Now it's his turn to be confused. After all these times he's penned you into a corner of your own head, it's finally his turn to be surprised.
After all, you know full well what he's going to say. You know full well what it is that makes him do all these things. You know full well why he's so... Dangerously... Charming...?
Something resembling a blush beats at your cheeks from inside, but you quickly beat it back where it belongs - to oblivion.
If he could just say it...

"... say it."

"I..."

"... just say it."

"... I love you."

Finally. Finally, those words. The words both of you have been waiting for, the words you... feared so much.
And now, they don't seem that scary anymore. They sound almost... harmless.
If he could never...

"... say it again."

"What?"

"... say it again."

A moment of silence. They must be getting closer with every minute...

"I love you."

"..."

No, they really don't sound that scary. In fact... it's almost funny. How lightly he can admit it.
How lightly you can take it.
How lightly... it all just passed along.

Free to breathe again, you pull back, and avert your eyes. No way you'd be able to look into his right now - even if it sounded funny. It's just... Not right.

"My flat is small, but I'm sure you'll fit in."

"... I've been there before."

By some streak of luck, he managed to slip his fingers from your wrist to your palm.

"Right." A short, troubled giggle. "My job's not that good, but I can always look for another one."

"..."

"I'll ask for money, if there's a need. We'll make it for sure."

"..."

"We're going to make it."

Roar of an engine cuts through the air, and in a cloud of dust, stops right in front of you, the white one waving from inside.

"Hop in!"

And you do. Even when released from his grip, you don't run away.

You don't break away

You don't stop.

You don't take a breath.

You don't look back.


You don't regret.


You don't return.


And instead, head down this new path.
Fasten your seat belts.
Look ahead.


"What would fit an escape scene like this?"

One of them asks, sinking a hand in the pile of CDs in the locker.

"Obviously," Says the other, smirking victoriously. "The immortal Queen."




In a catchy tune, a mist of dust and screeching of the tires, your new life begins.







And without noticing, you wrap your own fingers around his hand.

>> No. 23372
Wut.
>> No. 23373
What is this shit?
>> No. 23374
Do you guys not recognize a Fuku short when you see one? Christ.
>> No. 23375
Yes, that's very nice, YAF.
>> No. 23376
>>23374
get back to work nigger
>> No. 23377
>>23374
Get back to your plotton field in /others/
>> No. 23378
>"... just say it."
>"... I love you."
>"... say it again."
>"What?"
>"... say it again."
>"I love you."
You turn, look him straight in the eye, and give him a hard kick to the shin.

"That was fucking miserable, you twit"
"Oww. Okay" ;_;
>> No. 23379
>>23377

YAF is writing on /others/?
>> No. 23381
>>23379

You wouldn't know it from the writing.
>> No. 23382
>>23379
BLAIR, which is rather good.
>> No. 23384
>>23382

Hm, I didn't know that. Maybe I will read it now.
>> No. 23385
>>23382

>rather good.

Sureeee. Nice try there, YAF.
>> No. 23387
>>23385

Wasn't me, but I agree. BLAIR's pretty nice.
>> No. 23390
>>23387
I can't stand reading it. Too many words without enough meaning.

Sometimes you can be entertaining with that, other times, YAF, I just scroll down.
>> No. 23410
>>23390
that is your good right. as long as you don't bother the people who enjoy it
>> No. 23414
>>23410
What kind of faggot do you take me for?

The only reason I'm voicing my opinion at all is because YAF had asked me to do so.