defeminized (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defeminized) wrote2011-12-13 02:20 am
defeminized) wrote2011-12-13 02:20 am
Entry tags:
Uninvited - Natsume/Bemu
Title: Uninvited
Wordcount: 1826
Rating: PG
Genre: Slight angst, slight romance, slight friendship
PairingNatsume/Bemu (Youkai Ningen Bemu)
Warning: Spoiler-ish up to episode 8
Note: This one more or less follows the vein of this, and I am having too much fun with the style.
Beta-ed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pinkeuphoria1, who’s the angelic-est angel to ever angel-ed.
Summary: Bemu saves people with a godlike speed, dashing, dashing and dashing to help those in need.
-
Bemu saves people with a godlike speed, dashing, dashing and dashing to help those in need.
Sometimes Natsume asks if they, the people he saved, ever thanked him. Have they ever rewarded you, he asks. Bemu has never thought of himself as someone whom people needed to thank, so he merely looks down to the ground and says, no, they don’t have to. Bemu thinks of all the people he has saved and the looks on their faces —shocked, bedazzled, puzzled, confused— and tells Natsume that no, he has never seen anything like gratitude on their faces.
Natsume’s face contorts in a strange way and he shakes his head in slight disbelief. He mumbles his dissatisfaction, wondering how people could just forget about their saviours. He talks about how disheartening it must be for Bemu to see people he saved run away from him in fear when all he did was to keep them safe. Bemu tells him that it’s because he’s a monster and that he’s more frightening than any human-shaped evil. Natsume stops him halfway, insisting that a deed done is a deed done and a gratitude deserved is a gratitude deserved, whether the saviour was a man, woman, child or monster. He asks Natsume what the ‘rewards’ that he’s thinking about are, and Natsume smiles.
Friendship, he says with a beam. He tells Bemu that he will be his friend, forever and ever.
Forever is a figurative duration; before they know it, time will be flying, flying, flying away, passing them by, and everything will be but dusts in the wind.
Natsume comes prancing into their lives, his life, galloping, galloping and galloping like a mighty stallion.
He tells Bemu stories from his life as a detective. About the man who killed the woman he loved because she cheated on him. About the teenage boy who robbed a bank because his mother was about to die and he had no money to pay for her surgery. About the homeless old man who killed another homeless old man because they were having a territorial dispute over the small box under the bridge. About a woman who killed a man who tried to rape her.
Bemu asks Natsume if he ever got tired of everything, the humans who did all the evil things, who didn’t appreciate how they were born human, who didn’t realise how lucky they were. Natsume scratches his head and laughs. He tells Bemu that he didn’t think of it the way Bemu does, because Natsume’s a human just like everybody he had caught. He says that it was only after he met Bemu that he began to think about how lucky he must have been, to be born a human and never have to worry about the reason of his existence.
Bemu wants to tell Natsume that he’s the best human he has ever seen, the kindest, and the most beautiful even. All he ends up telling him is how strong he thinks he is. How courageous. How admirable.
Natsume’s eyes shine with fiery spirit, lighting, lighting and lighting everything Bemu used to think is dark.
Feelings come sneaking inside him, slithering, slithering, and slithering to trap him like a creeping plant.
Natsume makes him believe in many things. That the world is actually round and that some sort of force is actually pulling them to the ground. That nobody is born evil, and that people are always motivated by an internal force. That everybody exists to leave an imprint to the world and that everybody deserves to live. That everybody has a story to tell, everybody has a song to sing, and everybody has people to love. Everybody, even monsters like Bemu.
He asks Bemu many things, like if Bemu has ever seen greater evil than what Natsume has told him. If Bemu has seen history being made. Has Bemu ever encountered anyone who would become the ruling force of the modern world, he asks. Has Bemu ever fallen in love, Natsume enquires with a nudge. Bemu’s face heats up at the question and he immediately denies. He tells Natsume that he doesn’t know what love is and Natsume pats him on his back. The sun is setting behind them.
Love is when everything is like the sunset, Natsume says wistfully. Pretty like the sunset, monochromatic like the sunset, and hopeful like the sunset.
After the sun sets, the moon rises. Natsume says that the moon represents the world of a pair of lovers, while the sun is the reality that they are living in. The moon glows and reflects the sun that’s too far away, shining amidst the darkness. However, no matter how brightly it shines, the moon is only but an image replica of the sun, he says, just like how the fantasy that the lovers are dwelling in is but a blurred delusion, superimposed on the blazing reality.
Everything Natsume says tingles and everything inside Bemu is fluttering, fluttering, fluttering like the butterfly’s wings.
Evil comes tapping uninvitingly, knocking, knocking, and knocking against the door like a plague.
Bemu doesn’t like it when Natsume starts to smile less. When he doesn’t smile at him, he spaces out more often, stares at random things and acts as though Bemu disrupts him. His eyes will lose their sparkles and will, instead, be filled with a sharpened, concentrated focus. Most of all, Bemu wouldn’t see himself reflected in Natsume’s eyes.
It frightens him that Natsume can’t see him anymore.
He wants to hold onto Natsume, to cling onto him, to latch himself on to him even if he is seeing himself flickering and extinguishing from his eyes.
In that moment when he sees Natsume gliding away without him, everything inside Bemu falls to the ground, clanking, clanking and clanking as it breaks.
Natsume leans against Bemu and cries like a child, sobbing, sobbing, and sobbing after his momentary lapse in judgment.
Bemu closes Natsume’s eyes and whispers words into his ears. He tells him everything he has been thinking about him. How Natsume’s the strongest human he has ever seen. How Natsume’s the one who made him believe in humans. How Natsume’s the human he wants to be. How he will be there for him, to be the monster to his human, the ugly to his beauty, the white to his black, the dark to his light, and the wrong to his right.
Bemu tells him that he will bear Natsume’s evil on his scars, but he wishes that he could bear his pain so that he wouldn’t have to sob, wouldn’t have cry, and wouldn’t have to hurt. He lets Natsume grip his shoulders, lets his own blood ooze out and vanish in evanescence and hopes that Natsume’s tears will dry as fast as his own blood can.
He wants to be the light Natsume sees as he’s blinded by the darkness, the voice he hears as he is deafened by the sounds of his vengeance, and the monster that remains as Natsume sheds his humanity away.
Natsume’s tears fall on Bemu, dripping, dripping and dripping like rainfall on a gloomy day.
Desires hit him like cannon, thumping, thumping and thumping without a warning.
Bemu wants to kiss Natsume, wants to feel his beating heart, wants to touch him, and wants to have him close to him. He wants to look into his eyes and see how he’s being reflected in them. He wants Natsume to look into his eyes and see the Natsume that he sees. The beautiful, strong, and kind Natsume.
Their lips touch, their fingers intertwine, and Bemu’s heart threatens to jump out of his chest. It’s the sort of contact that does nothing but jumble his thoughts, make things inside him quiver more, and make him want to run away. He feels like pulling himself away, pushing Natsume away, distancing himself; but nothing works. It’s the sort of contact that makes him transform, makes it painful to exist and makes him feel like the most horrible thing in the world.
It’s the sort of contact that makes him feel like Natsume can pierce a blade right through him and he wouldn’t feel a thing.
Natsume says a lot of things to him, gently and tenderly. He tells Bemu that Bemu’s a wonderful human, that he can’t live anymore if Bemu goes away, and that he has been depending on Bemu too much. Everything he says, every inch of skin he touches, it makes Bemu want to ask him to stop being nice to him.
He pictures Natsume’s back as he walks away, and he kisses harder.
They kiss for a very long time and Bemu’s humanity peels away, with Natsume’s blade slicing, slicing, and slicing him.
Hatred comes to suffocate him, choking, choking and choking on his neck.
Bemu doesn’t like getting angry, because getting angry means getting his balances all messed up. Getting angry means that everything under his skin will be throbbing and deforming. Getting angry means that his eyes will be turning black and everything he sees will be a shade of dark, dark gray. Getting angry means his voice will be muffled and he can no longer speak like a human.
Getting angry means he’s no longer someone that humans listen to.
There’s a pair of arms embracing him from behind and suddenly he doesn’t feel like a monster anymore. There’s a soft, gentle voice ringing beside his ear and he realises how he still has someone who will listen to him.
Natsume listens to him.
He tells Bemu to stop, to calm down, and to breathe. He tells Bemu that he doesn’t have to suffer, doesn’t have to trouble himself with the unnecessary pain, and doesn’t have to burden himself with the ignorance of the people who can’t see him for who he is. He tells Bemu that it’s enough, everything is enough, and he has his back. Bemu sees Natsume with his gray-tinted eyes and sees himself, his human self, reflected in his eyes.
Bemu falls into Natsume’s arm, drowning, drowning, and drowning in his warmth.
Natsume tells Bemu that he came into his life quietly, prodding, prodding and prodding around him like a guardian angel.
He asks Bemu to tell him stories; stories of his adventures, the people he met, the people he liked, and the people he spoke to. He asks Bemu to imagine the future; his future, Natsume’s future, Japan’s future. He asks Bemu to tell him what he feels; about himself, about the humans, about being a monster, about Natsume.
Bemu says nothing, only stuttering and stammering about having nothing in his life that matters. He looks at Natsume and sees everything that Natsume is asking him to say: the past, the future, the present.
He’s bound by his monstrosity and tied by his humanity, but Natsume makes him feel like he’s a free man, like he’s soaring, soaring and soaring above in the sky.
-
Wordcount: 1826
Rating: PG
Genre: Slight angst, slight romance, slight friendship
PairingNatsume/Bemu (Youkai Ningen Bemu)
Warning: Spoiler-ish up to episode 8
Note: This one more or less follows the vein of this, and I am having too much fun with the style.
Beta-ed by
pinkeuphoria1, who’s the angelic-est angel to ever angel-ed. Summary: Bemu saves people with a godlike speed, dashing, dashing and dashing to help those in need.
Bemu saves people with a godlike speed, dashing, dashing and dashing to help those in need.
Sometimes Natsume asks if they, the people he saved, ever thanked him. Have they ever rewarded you, he asks. Bemu has never thought of himself as someone whom people needed to thank, so he merely looks down to the ground and says, no, they don’t have to. Bemu thinks of all the people he has saved and the looks on their faces —shocked, bedazzled, puzzled, confused— and tells Natsume that no, he has never seen anything like gratitude on their faces.
Natsume’s face contorts in a strange way and he shakes his head in slight disbelief. He mumbles his dissatisfaction, wondering how people could just forget about their saviours. He talks about how disheartening it must be for Bemu to see people he saved run away from him in fear when all he did was to keep them safe. Bemu tells him that it’s because he’s a monster and that he’s more frightening than any human-shaped evil. Natsume stops him halfway, insisting that a deed done is a deed done and a gratitude deserved is a gratitude deserved, whether the saviour was a man, woman, child or monster. He asks Natsume what the ‘rewards’ that he’s thinking about are, and Natsume smiles.
Friendship, he says with a beam. He tells Bemu that he will be his friend, forever and ever.
Forever is a figurative duration; before they know it, time will be flying, flying, flying away, passing them by, and everything will be but dusts in the wind.
Natsume comes prancing into their lives, his life, galloping, galloping and galloping like a mighty stallion.
He tells Bemu stories from his life as a detective. About the man who killed the woman he loved because she cheated on him. About the teenage boy who robbed a bank because his mother was about to die and he had no money to pay for her surgery. About the homeless old man who killed another homeless old man because they were having a territorial dispute over the small box under the bridge. About a woman who killed a man who tried to rape her.
Bemu asks Natsume if he ever got tired of everything, the humans who did all the evil things, who didn’t appreciate how they were born human, who didn’t realise how lucky they were. Natsume scratches his head and laughs. He tells Bemu that he didn’t think of it the way Bemu does, because Natsume’s a human just like everybody he had caught. He says that it was only after he met Bemu that he began to think about how lucky he must have been, to be born a human and never have to worry about the reason of his existence.
Bemu wants to tell Natsume that he’s the best human he has ever seen, the kindest, and the most beautiful even. All he ends up telling him is how strong he thinks he is. How courageous. How admirable.
Natsume’s eyes shine with fiery spirit, lighting, lighting and lighting everything Bemu used to think is dark.
Feelings come sneaking inside him, slithering, slithering, and slithering to trap him like a creeping plant.
Natsume makes him believe in many things. That the world is actually round and that some sort of force is actually pulling them to the ground. That nobody is born evil, and that people are always motivated by an internal force. That everybody exists to leave an imprint to the world and that everybody deserves to live. That everybody has a story to tell, everybody has a song to sing, and everybody has people to love. Everybody, even monsters like Bemu.
He asks Bemu many things, like if Bemu has ever seen greater evil than what Natsume has told him. If Bemu has seen history being made. Has Bemu ever encountered anyone who would become the ruling force of the modern world, he asks. Has Bemu ever fallen in love, Natsume enquires with a nudge. Bemu’s face heats up at the question and he immediately denies. He tells Natsume that he doesn’t know what love is and Natsume pats him on his back. The sun is setting behind them.
Love is when everything is like the sunset, Natsume says wistfully. Pretty like the sunset, monochromatic like the sunset, and hopeful like the sunset.
After the sun sets, the moon rises. Natsume says that the moon represents the world of a pair of lovers, while the sun is the reality that they are living in. The moon glows and reflects the sun that’s too far away, shining amidst the darkness. However, no matter how brightly it shines, the moon is only but an image replica of the sun, he says, just like how the fantasy that the lovers are dwelling in is but a blurred delusion, superimposed on the blazing reality.
Everything Natsume says tingles and everything inside Bemu is fluttering, fluttering, fluttering like the butterfly’s wings.
Evil comes tapping uninvitingly, knocking, knocking, and knocking against the door like a plague.
Bemu doesn’t like it when Natsume starts to smile less. When he doesn’t smile at him, he spaces out more often, stares at random things and acts as though Bemu disrupts him. His eyes will lose their sparkles and will, instead, be filled with a sharpened, concentrated focus. Most of all, Bemu wouldn’t see himself reflected in Natsume’s eyes.
It frightens him that Natsume can’t see him anymore.
He wants to hold onto Natsume, to cling onto him, to latch himself on to him even if he is seeing himself flickering and extinguishing from his eyes.
In that moment when he sees Natsume gliding away without him, everything inside Bemu falls to the ground, clanking, clanking and clanking as it breaks.
Natsume leans against Bemu and cries like a child, sobbing, sobbing, and sobbing after his momentary lapse in judgment.
Bemu closes Natsume’s eyes and whispers words into his ears. He tells him everything he has been thinking about him. How Natsume’s the strongest human he has ever seen. How Natsume’s the one who made him believe in humans. How Natsume’s the human he wants to be. How he will be there for him, to be the monster to his human, the ugly to his beauty, the white to his black, the dark to his light, and the wrong to his right.
Bemu tells him that he will bear Natsume’s evil on his scars, but he wishes that he could bear his pain so that he wouldn’t have to sob, wouldn’t have cry, and wouldn’t have to hurt. He lets Natsume grip his shoulders, lets his own blood ooze out and vanish in evanescence and hopes that Natsume’s tears will dry as fast as his own blood can.
He wants to be the light Natsume sees as he’s blinded by the darkness, the voice he hears as he is deafened by the sounds of his vengeance, and the monster that remains as Natsume sheds his humanity away.
Natsume’s tears fall on Bemu, dripping, dripping and dripping like rainfall on a gloomy day.
Desires hit him like cannon, thumping, thumping and thumping without a warning.
Bemu wants to kiss Natsume, wants to feel his beating heart, wants to touch him, and wants to have him close to him. He wants to look into his eyes and see how he’s being reflected in them. He wants Natsume to look into his eyes and see the Natsume that he sees. The beautiful, strong, and kind Natsume.
Their lips touch, their fingers intertwine, and Bemu’s heart threatens to jump out of his chest. It’s the sort of contact that does nothing but jumble his thoughts, make things inside him quiver more, and make him want to run away. He feels like pulling himself away, pushing Natsume away, distancing himself; but nothing works. It’s the sort of contact that makes him transform, makes it painful to exist and makes him feel like the most horrible thing in the world.
It’s the sort of contact that makes him feel like Natsume can pierce a blade right through him and he wouldn’t feel a thing.
Natsume says a lot of things to him, gently and tenderly. He tells Bemu that Bemu’s a wonderful human, that he can’t live anymore if Bemu goes away, and that he has been depending on Bemu too much. Everything he says, every inch of skin he touches, it makes Bemu want to ask him to stop being nice to him.
He pictures Natsume’s back as he walks away, and he kisses harder.
They kiss for a very long time and Bemu’s humanity peels away, with Natsume’s blade slicing, slicing, and slicing him.
Hatred comes to suffocate him, choking, choking and choking on his neck.
Bemu doesn’t like getting angry, because getting angry means getting his balances all messed up. Getting angry means that everything under his skin will be throbbing and deforming. Getting angry means that his eyes will be turning black and everything he sees will be a shade of dark, dark gray. Getting angry means his voice will be muffled and he can no longer speak like a human.
Getting angry means he’s no longer someone that humans listen to.
There’s a pair of arms embracing him from behind and suddenly he doesn’t feel like a monster anymore. There’s a soft, gentle voice ringing beside his ear and he realises how he still has someone who will listen to him.
Natsume listens to him.
He tells Bemu to stop, to calm down, and to breathe. He tells Bemu that he doesn’t have to suffer, doesn’t have to trouble himself with the unnecessary pain, and doesn’t have to burden himself with the ignorance of the people who can’t see him for who he is. He tells Bemu that it’s enough, everything is enough, and he has his back. Bemu sees Natsume with his gray-tinted eyes and sees himself, his human self, reflected in his eyes.
Bemu falls into Natsume’s arm, drowning, drowning, and drowning in his warmth.
Natsume tells Bemu that he came into his life quietly, prodding, prodding and prodding around him like a guardian angel.
He asks Bemu to tell him stories; stories of his adventures, the people he met, the people he liked, and the people he spoke to. He asks Bemu to imagine the future; his future, Natsume’s future, Japan’s future. He asks Bemu to tell him what he feels; about himself, about the humans, about being a monster, about Natsume.
Bemu says nothing, only stuttering and stammering about having nothing in his life that matters. He looks at Natsume and sees everything that Natsume is asking him to say: the past, the future, the present.
He’s bound by his monstrosity and tied by his humanity, but Natsume makes him feel like he’s a free man, like he’s soaring, soaring and soaring above in the sky.