Post by Tate Icasa on Jan 23, 2011 0:14:00 GMT -5
So I dug out all the bits of this thing and put them in the right order.
~
Part One
He doesn't like girls.
Of course, what six-annual-old boy did like girls, really? They were frilly and icky and had cooties, and your parents always insisted that you play with them, even though they never wanted to do anything fun.
There was one girls he didn't not-like as much as the others. Her name was Ari and she had brown hair and purple eyes, and she'd rather jump into the lakes to catch frogs than play with dolls.
That almost meant it didn't matter that she was a girl.
Almost.
All the way through the Academy he expected his attraction to girls would materialize the next year. It never did, and when one day he suddenly found himsel with his tongue down another boy's throat he was only half as surprised as he'd expected to be.
He didn't tell Ari about that incident. She'd only complain that he got to kiss a boy before she did, and pester him for details that he wasn't quite ready to share.
After graduation she asked him to escort her to a Royal Ball. He shrugged uncomfortably, aware that maybe he'd been a bit more discreet than strictly necessary.
"I don't like girls," he said, less tactfully than he would have preferred.
"Oh," she said, frowning. "Oh! I'm sorry, I-"
"But I like you," he blurted, his mouth obviously no longer taking orders from his brain.
She blinked. "So that's a yes, then?"
Their first kiss is sweet, and so is every other kiss after it. At no point does their little love affair becomes the sordid, heated passion of the slightly trashy novels he'd read -- purely for research purposes, of course.
She laughs like windchimes, he violet eyes sparkling as they teach each other to dance. Sometimes he leads, but usually she does. It works better that way.
That almost makes up for the fact that she's a girl.
Almost.
In the end, she's the one who breaks it off, not him. She's laughing, running down the paths of Finaqua toward a man in a balloon who she knows she's going to marry someday. She kisses him properly, one last time.
"You don't like girls," she tells him, almost but not quite smirking at the confusion on his face. "Remember?"
"But-"
"Maybe someday we'll have matching blond husbands," she says.
"Not sure I like blonds," he mutters.
"So go find out." And she's off again, toward her balloon man.
He's not heart-broken. Not even close.
They've always been best friends, and he's perfectly happy to walk her down the aisle when she asks. He husband-to-be smiles at him as he hands her off, completely aware of their pasts.
He takes his seat at the front and takes his date's -- not blond, not yet -- hand in his. He almost feels like laughing.
He has his hand on the doorknob and is about to leave the study when she calls his name. He turns, curious.
She just looks at him for a moment with those lavendar eyes of hers.
"If Ahamo hadn't come along, it would have been you."
He's startled into laughter. "How fortunate for all of us that he did, then. I'd have been a terrible King."
~
Part One
He doesn't like girls.
Of course, what six-annual-old boy did like girls, really? They were frilly and icky and had cooties, and your parents always insisted that you play with them, even though they never wanted to do anything fun.
There was one girls he didn't not-like as much as the others. Her name was Ari and she had brown hair and purple eyes, and she'd rather jump into the lakes to catch frogs than play with dolls.
That almost meant it didn't matter that she was a girl.
Almost.
All the way through the Academy he expected his attraction to girls would materialize the next year. It never did, and when one day he suddenly found himsel with his tongue down another boy's throat he was only half as surprised as he'd expected to be.
He didn't tell Ari about that incident. She'd only complain that he got to kiss a boy before she did, and pester him for details that he wasn't quite ready to share.
After graduation she asked him to escort her to a Royal Ball. He shrugged uncomfortably, aware that maybe he'd been a bit more discreet than strictly necessary.
"I don't like girls," he said, less tactfully than he would have preferred.
"Oh," she said, frowning. "Oh! I'm sorry, I-"
"But I like you," he blurted, his mouth obviously no longer taking orders from his brain.
She blinked. "So that's a yes, then?"
Their first kiss is sweet, and so is every other kiss after it. At no point does their little love affair becomes the sordid, heated passion of the slightly trashy novels he'd read -- purely for research purposes, of course.
She laughs like windchimes, he violet eyes sparkling as they teach each other to dance. Sometimes he leads, but usually she does. It works better that way.
That almost makes up for the fact that she's a girl.
Almost.
In the end, she's the one who breaks it off, not him. She's laughing, running down the paths of Finaqua toward a man in a balloon who she knows she's going to marry someday. She kisses him properly, one last time.
"You don't like girls," she tells him, almost but not quite smirking at the confusion on his face. "Remember?"
"But-"
"Maybe someday we'll have matching blond husbands," she says.
"Not sure I like blonds," he mutters.
"So go find out." And she's off again, toward her balloon man.
He's not heart-broken. Not even close.
They've always been best friends, and he's perfectly happy to walk her down the aisle when she asks. He husband-to-be smiles at him as he hands her off, completely aware of their pasts.
He takes his seat at the front and takes his date's -- not blond, not yet -- hand in his. He almost feels like laughing.
He has his hand on the doorknob and is about to leave the study when she calls his name. He turns, curious.
She just looks at him for a moment with those lavendar eyes of hers.
"If Ahamo hadn't come along, it would have been you."
He's startled into laughter. "How fortunate for all of us that he did, then. I'd have been a terrible King."