fireblazie (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fireblazie) wrote in ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} 30_kisses,@ 2006-07-11 15:47:00 |
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It hurts to look at you (Detective Conan, Heiji/Kazuha, #25)
Title: It hurts to look at you
Author: fireblazie
Pairing: Heiji/Kazuha
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #25, fence
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. Am just borrowing the characters for a bit!
Heiji rested his chin in his hands, staring outside the window. Gorgeous, beautiful day. But no, he was stuck inside an art classroom. Why had he taken art again? He wasn’t sure.
“Today we’ll be sketching human faces,” their art teacher announced, “pair up with someone and start sketching. These are due at the end of class! Get to work!”
Kazuha tapped him on the shoulder. He shook himself out of his daze. “Umnh?”
She sighed. “You weren’t listening again, were you?”
He stood up and brushed past her. “ ‘course I was. We have to sketch each other’s faces. Lemme get some paper. Hang on
a sec.”
“Mm.”
-.-
A few minutes later, they were sitting outside, on top of the lunch tables. She was sketching him, and she was taking forever going on about it. He had an itch, and he so desperately wanted to scratch it.
“Don’t,” she said, threateningly, “don’t even think about moving.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Then hurry up!”
“I’m almost done!” she snapped back, staring intently at her paper. She tilted her head to the side, shrugged, and put it down. “All right. Done.”
“About time,” he muttered, and picked up his own sketchbook, flipping the pages until he came to a blank page. Now she
was sitting up straight, staring at something off in the distance.
He did a quick sketch of her outline, the facial structure, and the hair, forever in that swinging ponytail. He frowned at his
drawing as he now had to contemplate filling in the nose and the mouth and the eyes. He decided he’d save the eyes for last.
He filled in the nose – a little crooked, he thought, absently, but not half-bad – and drew the lips. They weren’t smiling, they weren’t frowning.
“Look this way,” he said.
Reluctantly, her eyes rested on him. He’d just taken his eyes off of her for a second, just to draw the pupils and irises and lashes. When he looked back, she was staring at something else again.
“Look here,” he said, getting a little bit annoyed. “I’m almost done. I just need to draw your eyes…”
“Well, then, hurry up,” she retorted, using his earlier words. She turned her eyes in his direction, staring down at his neck, or shoulders.
“Look at my face. Look at my eyes. Your eyes keep flickering all over the place. And stop blinking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a perfectionist. Just draw something.”
“You afraid to look at me or something?” He threw at her, unaware of how right he actually was. She stared down again. When had this wall been built between them? An impossibly large fence, unable to be broken down by anybody, perhaps not even Hercules himself. She felt so awkward and clumsy around him, and she couldn’t explain why. All she knew was that she couldn’t bear to be near him for one more second –
With a loud huff of impatience, he thrust his arm out, warm fingers enveloping her chin and tilting her face up so that she was looking directly at him. He kept her in that position as his right hand finished the sketch.
“Done,” he said, and as he pulled away, noticed how red her face was. Fleetingly, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, and quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.
-.-
Two days after, their art teacher stood in the front of the room, holding a stack of papers.
“These are your sketches,” she said, “most of them very well-done. Particularly – these two.”
She held up a sketch in her left hand, the one Heiji himself had drawn. In her right hand, another one, the one Kazuha must
have drawn. Heiji stared into the near-perfect image of himself, woven into paper.
“The emotion captured in this one –“ She laid down the picture of Heiji and focused on the picture of Kazuha, “is the emotion of the subject herself. Notice the eyes. Wide. Afraid. Whoever said that eyes are the windows into the soul had no idea how right he was.
“And then this one.” She picked up the picture of Heiji. “This one shows the emotion of the sketcher, the drawer, the outsider. Notice how the figure is small, indicating that he is far away from us. He looks, but doesn’t see. Cold. Alone. The artist struggles to come closer for a better picture, but he is too far. They are divided by a barrier, a fence. Very well done,
these two.”
Heiji swallowed, throat excruciatingly dry. He reached out, but this time, it was Kazuha who turned away.
FIN –
(Eep. I was supposed to change this so that it was happier. But then I realized that for some odd reason, I liked it. Inspired by Akogare, by s’old fic, which is a gorgeous Eriol/Tomoyo story)
Title: It hurts to look at you
Author: fireblazie
Pairing: Heiji/Kazuha
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #25, fence
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. Am just borrowing the characters for a bit!
Heiji rested his chin in his hands, staring outside the window. Gorgeous, beautiful day. But no, he was stuck inside an art classroom. Why had he taken art again? He wasn’t sure.
“Today we’ll be sketching human faces,” their art teacher announced, “pair up with someone and start sketching. These are due at the end of class! Get to work!”
Kazuha tapped him on the shoulder. He shook himself out of his daze. “Umnh?”
She sighed. “You weren’t listening again, were you?”
He stood up and brushed past her. “ ‘course I was. We have to sketch each other’s faces. Lemme get some paper. Hang on
a sec.”
“Mm.”
-.-
A few minutes later, they were sitting outside, on top of the lunch tables. She was sketching him, and she was taking forever going on about it. He had an itch, and he so desperately wanted to scratch it.
“Don’t,” she said, threateningly, “don’t even think about moving.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Then hurry up!”
“I’m almost done!” she snapped back, staring intently at her paper. She tilted her head to the side, shrugged, and put it down. “All right. Done.”
“About time,” he muttered, and picked up his own sketchbook, flipping the pages until he came to a blank page. Now she
was sitting up straight, staring at something off in the distance.
He did a quick sketch of her outline, the facial structure, and the hair, forever in that swinging ponytail. He frowned at his
drawing as he now had to contemplate filling in the nose and the mouth and the eyes. He decided he’d save the eyes for last.
He filled in the nose – a little crooked, he thought, absently, but not half-bad – and drew the lips. They weren’t smiling, they weren’t frowning.
“Look this way,” he said.
Reluctantly, her eyes rested on him. He’d just taken his eyes off of her for a second, just to draw the pupils and irises and lashes. When he looked back, she was staring at something else again.
“Look here,” he said, getting a little bit annoyed. “I’m almost done. I just need to draw your eyes…”
“Well, then, hurry up,” she retorted, using his earlier words. She turned her eyes in his direction, staring down at his neck, or shoulders.
“Look at my face. Look at my eyes. Your eyes keep flickering all over the place. And stop blinking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a perfectionist. Just draw something.”
“You afraid to look at me or something?” He threw at her, unaware of how right he actually was. She stared down again. When had this wall been built between them? An impossibly large fence, unable to be broken down by anybody, perhaps not even Hercules himself. She felt so awkward and clumsy around him, and she couldn’t explain why. All she knew was that she couldn’t bear to be near him for one more second –
With a loud huff of impatience, he thrust his arm out, warm fingers enveloping her chin and tilting her face up so that she was looking directly at him. He kept her in that position as his right hand finished the sketch.
“Done,” he said, and as he pulled away, noticed how red her face was. Fleetingly, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, and quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.
-.-
Two days after, their art teacher stood in the front of the room, holding a stack of papers.
“These are your sketches,” she said, “most of them very well-done. Particularly – these two.”
She held up a sketch in her left hand, the one Heiji himself had drawn. In her right hand, another one, the one Kazuha must
have drawn. Heiji stared into the near-perfect image of himself, woven into paper.
“The emotion captured in this one –“ She laid down the picture of Heiji and focused on the picture of Kazuha, “is the emotion of the subject herself. Notice the eyes. Wide. Afraid. Whoever said that eyes are the windows into the soul had no idea how right he was.
“And then this one.” She picked up the picture of Heiji. “This one shows the emotion of the sketcher, the drawer, the outsider. Notice how the figure is small, indicating that he is far away from us. He looks, but doesn’t see. Cold. Alone. The artist struggles to come closer for a better picture, but he is too far. They are divided by a barrier, a fence. Very well done,
these two.”
Heiji swallowed, throat excruciatingly dry. He reached out, but this time, it was Kazuha who turned away.
FIN –
(Eep. I was supposed to change this so that it was happier. But then I realized that for some odd reason, I liked it. Inspired by Akogare, by s’old fic, which is a gorgeous Eriol/Tomoyo story)
