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matrixrefugeeI utterly love writing Tatsumi: he has this almost Zen-like calm about him at times (well, when Tsuzuki isn't driving him to distraction with the puppy-dog eyes and/or that so sad little pout, case in point toward the beginning of Vol. 6), plus some of his lines have this almost haiku-like quality, perfect for drabble-writing...
Title: Tears Like Rain
Author: Matrix Refugee
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tatsumi/Tsuzuki
Genre: Friendship/possible pre-slash
Set and Prompt: 28: Crayola colors -- Purple Heart
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, aka Descendants of Darkness, it’s characters, concepts and other indicia, which are the intellectual property of Yoko Matsushita, Hiroko Tokita, Manga Entertainment, Viz Media, Hakusensha, Central Park Media, et al.
Word Count: 100
Tatsumi speaks
They call the eyes the window onto the heart and soul, but with you I have seen those windows streaming with sorrow more times than I can count. I tried to be the sun to dry that rain, but I am a creature of shadows. If anything, I darkened the clouds and turned their downpours into torrents. Every teardrop seemed a drop of blood from your soul, flowing from violet wounds caused by your own compassion for the dying.
I hope someday you find someone to be the light shining through the raindrops, drying them with the warmth I couldn’t provide.
Title: Tears Like Rain
Author: Matrix Refugee
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tatsumi/Tsuzuki
Genre: Friendship/possible pre-slash
Set and Prompt: 28: Crayola colors -- Purple Heart
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, aka Descendants of Darkness, it’s characters, concepts and other indicia, which are the intellectual property of Yoko Matsushita, Hiroko Tokita, Manga Entertainment, Viz Media, Hakusensha, Central Park Media, et al.
Word Count: 100
Tatsumi speaks
They call the eyes the window onto the heart and soul, but with you I have seen those windows streaming with sorrow more times than I can count. I tried to be the sun to dry that rain, but I am a creature of shadows. If anything, I darkened the clouds and turned their downpours into torrents. Every teardrop seemed a drop of blood from your soul, flowing from violet wounds caused by your own compassion for the dying.
I hope someday you find someone to be the light shining through the raindrops, drying them with the warmth I couldn’t provide.
