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013. Calm
If anything, anything at all, Greece is an absolute master of calm.
That slow breathing, steady drop of eyelids, placidity in movements and more or less complete detachment from worry, care, concern. The ability to lay back and watch the clouds, the stars, the people; pet a cat, sit in a tree, catch a nap. Smooth face, lips in an ever - so - smile, eyebrows quirking to show emotion. A blush maybe, once in a while, but that is all.
Japan cannot imagine what it's like. Greece has little influence compared to himself, does not have as much money or good friends (or enemies), has to work a little harder to get the good things. Yet he always seems to be the one better off.
Eternally curious, Japan observes him as together they draw closer, until they are stars in the same orbit, until Japan can touch him without asking specific permission. Love. Like apples, red crosses his cheeks at the mere thought of the word.
He wants to know more from Greece, but the man is a strange teacher.
He squeezes Japan's hand gently as they sit together, on a rock overlooking a near - deserted beach, in the toaster warmth of the kotatsu-- Japan wonders if this is it. If this is calm. He doesn't feel it, then. All he knows is that his heart is hiccuping, his face is a disgraceful red, that he is overthinking. Cats. The beauty of the stars, little dancers in the dark canvas of the sky. He cannot possibly fathom them when Greece is right there.
And yet, he can. He keeps at it. He learns.
-white fills his senses, blinding, almost painful, nothing is there but how exposed he is and how warm Greece happens to be, that they are heart to heart, almost, how quickly Greece's beats, in tune with his, the rhythm of the thing, the night.
eventually he isn't there anymore, has rolled off but gently tugged Japan to lay on his side in the process, sharp hips jutting out under his skin like targets, for kisses, he wants to but that part is over. he leans in, cups the smooth painted porcelain cheek, perfect, he knows fine art when he sees it and in life it gets no better than that slope, or maybe that of his shoulder, the round perfect dark top of his head.
Greece's lips are barely there against the other's, teasing, almost, but in them his secrets lie, perfect, free for the taking. Japan realizes something, smiles softly, closes the gap. calm can truly be nothing more than this.
 men getting pregnant · Wed Jan 13, 2010 @ 06:18am · 0 Comments |
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