Guys sometimes I try to write things that I'm way behind on but then I end up writing things that have nothing to do with those things. These things are sappy and you can ignore me or judge me all you want, idgaf.
There's no specific pairing. (I mean I have one in mind, but you can use your imaginations~) Might write something else in the same vein, who knows X3 Enjoy.
The Yankii Monologues: MorningI hate mornings. And not in the way that people abuse the word "hate" like they abuse the word "love," where what they really mean is that they strongly dislike mornings, no, let's go ahead and define my use of the word properly. I have an intense and passionate dislike and a strong aversion to mornings.
This is just one of those facts that is so true about me, so very ingrained into every single strand of DNA that I possess, that every person I have lived with either figures it out quickly or suffers through my silent wrath until they wise up and learn to avoid me until well past noon. Or at least until after I've had a cup of coffee.
I know you're sitting there wondering, 'Man, what kinda messed up does a girl have to be to hate the colors of the sky as the sun breaks the horizon, or the gentle sounds of birds chirping in response to an early mist? Reina, what the hell did mornings ever do to you?' And I would tell you that that kind of thinking is likely fair, that those things are probably beautiful and if you like them then heaven forbid I keep you from enjoying them.
But what I know is that every morning, the sun and those stupid birds rip me from my sleep like a baby that's just been ejected from the warm comfort of its mother's womb, forced to breathe in air for the first time and surrounded by blue scrubs and gloved hands. Yes, my friends, I just compared waking up to the miracle of birth.
Some of you still don't get it at this point, though. Because I just said the word 'baby' and you conjured up images of cute, little wriggling bundles of joy and you're now wearing the same stupid subdued look everyone gets when they think of babies or puppies. Reina, however, is talking about the way babies look when they're freshly born, bloody and sticky and screaming; that's how she feels when she wakes up. Kind of. More or less.
Because I like sleeping. It's the closest thing to escaping from this world a person can get without literally taking themselves out of it. Whatever worries I have at night disappear the second I slip away into the arms of unconsciousness, and even when I have nightmares there's always that fuzzy dream haze that covers every thing and somehow I still know nothing's real. And nightmares tend to be more entertaining than my real problems anyway.
When I wake up, there's that brief moment of being completely disoriented; I forget that reality exists and my bed is strange and unfamiliar and it's like entering the world for the first time all over again. Life comes rushing back to me in an instant, a hard slap of schedules and commitments and thoughts like, 'god, did I remember to charge my phone last night'. And that's one hell of an emotional whiplash to experience every morning, going from peace to chaos in thirty seconds or less.
So when I wake up, I wake up angry, ready to fight. Fight what, I don't know--perhaps I think I can somehow will the world to conform to my desire to be left alone--but usually I end up growling a lot and abusing my alarm clock before I finally, reluctantly drag my body from the warmth of blankets and sheets and pillows.
Yeah, that's what I thought. Mornings don't sound so great to you anymore either, huh.
But... lately...
It was simple enough, you know. Just small texts to wake up to, nothing extraordinary, usually followed by smiles or hearts, that sort of thing.
So very like her.
At first I didn't think much of it, because usually I wouldn't check them until after already going through the ritual of being a bit of a bear and knocking my clock over. The feeling was strange to me, standing there at my sink with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, reading over the words encouraging me to have a good day.
For a brief moment I forgot how to be angry.
But every morning after that, the messages kept coming, and I started to expect them, finding that I couldn't manage to get out of bed without reaching for my phone first to check. And even when my eyes are blurry from sleep or I hate everything else I always try to send something back, though I can hear her laughing all the way from wherever she might be as she tells me not to worry and to catch five more minutes of sleep.
And it's funny because in the minute it takes me to force my eyes open to read whatever it is she's sent me for the morning, not only do I forget to be angry, I forget how to hate mornings so much.
I still don't do them well; my short hair allows for even worse bed-head now than before, and I occasionally am still not the kindest person as far as my clock is concerned. But for the first time in my life I've been able to smile genuinely before noon. Not that fake shit I put on for the cameras and concerts and everyone else but the real thing, teeth and all, special for her as I lay in the dim morning light in my apartment.
A smile that, sometimes I even attempt to get away with backstage when no one else is looking--when our hands brush 'accidentally' or our eyes lock in passing. Something just between us.
Ah... That idiot.
Because of her I have to admit that I'm wrong and change my opinion on something. Reina doesn't do that.
Ever. But maybe just this once.
I kinda like mornings. A lot.
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[6:50AM: Good morning, beautiful. <3 I hope you have a fantastic day.
]
[9:10AM: ...<3]