Hey. I've been working on (what was supposed to be) a oneshot fic centered around Touga and Saionji, for the most part. There's only one problem: I'm not exactly sure where I want to take the fic, and it seems like it's going to be much longer than I originally planned for it to be.

So I thought I would ask IRG for advice, both regarding plot and characterization. Feedback and critique would definitely be appreciated too, if that's possible. Thanks!

A Book

++

Touga was sitting in an armchair when Saionji entered, arm draped over a cushion: soft, velvet, blood-red like his hair.

"Hey, Saionji." He crooked his hand towards him.

"What?" said Saionji, terse.

Touga flashed Saionji the cover of his book, its gilt lettering as unreadable as his face.

"Have you ever read Hermann Hesse?"

"Can't say that I have," said Saionji, mimicking that opaque chill in his voice.

"It's interesting. I think you'd like it."

"And?"

One of Touga's fingers brushed against the heavy spine. "And, aren't you curious to know what it's about?"

"Not really."

Touga sighed. "That's a disappointment. I expected more regard from my one and only best friend."

"Don't be melodramatic."

Touga only arched a fine eyebrow, inviting him to continue.

"Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. After all, you've always had that innate flair for theatrics, haven't you?" He did not include friend in his own speech, and neither of the two were sorry for its exclusion.

"I believe you're confusing me with Nanami," smiled Touga, profile brought into sharp focus by candlelight.

Saionji scoffed, "If anyone knows how to manipulate events to their liking, it's you."

If Touga's conceit had been weighed at that moment, it could have been bought and sold by the pound. "Jealous, Saionji?"

Saionji didn't reply, so he continued, "You know, I wonder." He held the book like a fine weight in his palm. "Why do those who acquire knowledge always yearn for more, while fools who know nothing stay content to remain that way forever? I've always been intrigued by that question."

A subtle dig.

"Even if I knew what the hell you were talking about, I wouldn't bother answering."

"Because you've always had more common sense than most," Touga agreed. "Haven't you, Saionji?" he said, tasting each syllable on his tongue.

"Enough not to become someone's lapdog," Saionji replied.

"Oh?" Touga's mouth made a round "o" of amusement.

Saionji braced his arm over the chair, neither in compliance or dissent. That's right, he thought. That's right.

"You know, Saionji, even I can make mistakes sometimes. All those years ago, back when we were children," an image flashed into Saionji's head, unbidden: three coffins lined up in a stained-glass cathedral, the flare of lightning and then thunder. Touga's stare, no less clouded than it was now. "I wasn't very kind to you, was I?"

"Shut up."

"Even though you were my only friend."

"I couldn't care less."

"That's a shame. Really, Saionji, you're just one disappointment after another." Touga laughed, and the sound rang hollow.

"I'm not going to stay here and listen to you!" said Saionji, voice rough. Then he realized that his response was exactly what Touga had expected.

"But you'll indulge me, won't you?"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't owe you any favors."

"For the sake of the Student Council, if not mine."

Touga extended his arm, placing one hand over Saionji's.

"For the Student Council's sake, and the End of The World's. Indulge me."

Last edited by cloche (12-30-2008 11:33:27 PM)