storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2006-08-30 01:16 pm
storypaint) wrote2006-08-30 01:16 pm
[Cardcaptor Sakura] My Heart on a Napkin (Fujitaka/Nadeshiko)
Title: My Heart on a Napkin
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 340 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30_lessons: 6. Errors Against Brevity and Conciseness
Pairing: Fujitaka/Nadeshiko
Other: n/a
Excerpt: He wrote "I love you" on a napkin in a crowded, noisy restaurant and pushed it into her hand before he walked out, ashamed of his urges.
Neither of them had been very good in Creative Writing class--Fujitaka was brief, Hemingway-esque in a way that was too abrupt; and Nadeshiko much too erudite, cramming word after word into sentences so that the reader would absolutely understand what she was talking about. Their teachers implored improvement in red-inked phrases, his asking for more explanation from his quiet, short prose, and hers wanting more of the bare bones of writing, a paring out of extraneous phrasing.
He wrote "I love you" on a napkin in a crowded, noisy restaurant and pushed it into her hand before he walked out, ashamed of his urges. To love a student was taboo, but confession was good for the soul. When she tried to talk to him about it, he would tell her that their friendship could go no further.
He went home, his umbrella closed as he let the icy rain strike his skin. Then he curled up in his bed underneath the comforter like a child, and cried a little bit, for what could not be between them.
In the morning in his mailbox there was a letter written on vanilla-scented cream paper in his mailbox, a thick letter of devotion and joy and fifty reasons that they could be together and make it work. He pressed the paper to his bare chest, losing himself in thought on his front step, until a door slammed down the street and he twitched with surprise.
He read the letter one more time, and then went back inside to get dressed and call in sick to work. He saw the term papers stacked neatly on his desk next to the phone, and searched through them as he made the call. There was hers, the longest one of all, awaiting a red pen and comments about the length requirements. He picked it up and inhaled the whisper of her sweet vanilla scent that remained on the page. Then he put the phone down and headed out the door to look for a ring.
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 340 words
Prompt:
30_lessons: 6. Errors Against Brevity and ConcisenessPairing: Fujitaka/Nadeshiko
Other: n/a
Excerpt: He wrote "I love you" on a napkin in a crowded, noisy restaurant and pushed it into her hand before he walked out, ashamed of his urges.
Neither of them had been very good in Creative Writing class--Fujitaka was brief, Hemingway-esque in a way that was too abrupt; and Nadeshiko much too erudite, cramming word after word into sentences so that the reader would absolutely understand what she was talking about. Their teachers implored improvement in red-inked phrases, his asking for more explanation from his quiet, short prose, and hers wanting more of the bare bones of writing, a paring out of extraneous phrasing.
He wrote "I love you" on a napkin in a crowded, noisy restaurant and pushed it into her hand before he walked out, ashamed of his urges. To love a student was taboo, but confession was good for the soul. When she tried to talk to him about it, he would tell her that their friendship could go no further.
He went home, his umbrella closed as he let the icy rain strike his skin. Then he curled up in his bed underneath the comforter like a child, and cried a little bit, for what could not be between them.
In the morning in his mailbox there was a letter written on vanilla-scented cream paper in his mailbox, a thick letter of devotion and joy and fifty reasons that they could be together and make it work. He pressed the paper to his bare chest, losing himself in thought on his front step, until a door slammed down the street and he twitched with surprise.
He read the letter one more time, and then went back inside to get dressed and call in sick to work. He saw the term papers stacked neatly on his desk next to the phone, and searched through them as he made the call. There was hers, the longest one of all, awaiting a red pen and comments about the length requirements. He picked it up and inhaled the whisper of her sweet vanilla scent that remained on the page. Then he put the phone down and headed out the door to look for a ring.