Hanadan Fic: Flight Control (1/1)
Jan. 22nd, 2007 04:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dangermousieTitle: Flight Control
Fandom: Hana Yori Dango (jdrama-verse)
Pairing: Domyouji/Makino (come on, do you really need to ask)
A/N: Makino, going to New York.
This is something I was working on over the weekend because it just wouldn't leave my brain. I do want constructive criticism if you have any (fulsome praise is OK too :D)
It might not be so bad, she thinks.
She repeats it to herself like a silly short mantra, as she waves good-buy to her family at Narita and walks through the gate, her one bag clutched tight.
I am Makino Tsukushi and I can do this.
In her bag are a change of clothes or three, a print out with the reservation of her hotel, a book in case the movies on the plane are completely unwatchable, money (already exchanged), passport, guidebook, and a ridiculous gold phone. And a scribbled, torn out piece of paper with an address on it. Domyouji’s address.
She is especially sure of the latter item because she’s rechecked she has packed it. Twice.
She thinks of it and feels silly and scared and upset that she can’t seem to quell butterflies in her stomach after all.
****************************************************
She’s lucked out and has a window seat. As the plane gears for take-off and the middle aged man next to her unrolls his paper, she looks out of the window, nose pressed against the glass and her breath making a small foggy circle in the center. There is ground, and then there’s ocean and then the flat white of the clouds.
She has fourteen hours ahead of her and plenty of time to think.
So she fiddles with her seat belt and reads the menu and the program guide, picking the most interesting movie out of a really mediocre bunch. A Hollywood blow-them-up, loud and shaky with camera cuts, but the dubbed voices wash past her and she falls asleep.
In her dream, she is in a place of tall buildings and cars speeding on the wrong side of the road. She supposes this is how her dream-self imagines New York.
She is following someone who she cannot see clearly, but knows, the certainty you possess only within a dream, that it must be Domyouji. Even as she yells his name he speeds up and she loses him, as the dream morphs into her ringing the bell of an apartment with its windows blindly empty.
She wakes up as the ringing becomes more insistent and realizes that in the movie the phone is ringing for all it’s worth.
A ridiculous anxiety dream. She knows she should have some common-sense and really, the explanation is so simple: she is worried and uncertain and…well. But she is glad anyway when the lights in the cabin come back on and the attendant is coming around to ask her for dinner choices.
****************************************************
As the plane is landing, taxiing to the gate, Makino Tsukushi is reading, pencil in hand.
She is so excited when she flips through her guide-book. New York. Wow. I am going to see New York. She remembers the girls in her school talking, with the airy nonchalance especially pitched for her ears, of trips to Paris, or Dubai, or Hong Kong. She has never even been out of the country before, and the prospect is frightening and exhilarating all at once.
She wishes, just a little bit, she had the easy assurance of Shizuka. Not to mention her language skills.
She concentrates on reading the guidebook, underlying sections, circling the most interesting places to see. Maybe if she treats it as just that, an exciting foreign trip, no more no less than being an anonymous sight-seer, she will forget that he stopped calling. That he is well and yet he didn’t call. That’s she’s waited and called him and he stayed silent and he left her a red tag as the first sign of remembering who she is.
The jerk.
She will give him a piece of her mind when she sees him. Wait and see.
But there is a jittery anxiety running through her thoughts and she knows she isn’t flying for half a day just to yell at him, another one of their fights.
Girls shouldn’t run after boys, but she’s never been exactly good at convention and doing what she is told (Isn’t it why they worked in the first place?). He’s done a lot of chasing, so a little in return might not hurt. Worked last time, didn’t it?
I am Makino Tsukushi and I know what I want.
I think.
She grabs her bag from under the seat and walks out of the plane.
There are clothes in her bag, and books. There is money, and her passport, and a ridiculous gold phone. And a slightly grubby piece of paper with an address, scribbled, untidy.
She will see him soon and she is sure everything will be OK.
Fandom: Hana Yori Dango (jdrama-verse)
Pairing: Domyouji/Makino (come on, do you really need to ask)
A/N: Makino, going to New York.
This is something I was working on over the weekend because it just wouldn't leave my brain. I do want constructive criticism if you have any (fulsome praise is OK too :D)
It might not be so bad, she thinks.
She repeats it to herself like a silly short mantra, as she waves good-buy to her family at Narita and walks through the gate, her one bag clutched tight.
I am Makino Tsukushi and I can do this.
In her bag are a change of clothes or three, a print out with the reservation of her hotel, a book in case the movies on the plane are completely unwatchable, money (already exchanged), passport, guidebook, and a ridiculous gold phone. And a scribbled, torn out piece of paper with an address on it. Domyouji’s address.
She is especially sure of the latter item because she’s rechecked she has packed it. Twice.
She thinks of it and feels silly and scared and upset that she can’t seem to quell butterflies in her stomach after all.
****************************************************
She’s lucked out and has a window seat. As the plane gears for take-off and the middle aged man next to her unrolls his paper, she looks out of the window, nose pressed against the glass and her breath making a small foggy circle in the center. There is ground, and then there’s ocean and then the flat white of the clouds.
She has fourteen hours ahead of her and plenty of time to think.
So she fiddles with her seat belt and reads the menu and the program guide, picking the most interesting movie out of a really mediocre bunch. A Hollywood blow-them-up, loud and shaky with camera cuts, but the dubbed voices wash past her and she falls asleep.
In her dream, she is in a place of tall buildings and cars speeding on the wrong side of the road. She supposes this is how her dream-self imagines New York.
She is following someone who she cannot see clearly, but knows, the certainty you possess only within a dream, that it must be Domyouji. Even as she yells his name he speeds up and she loses him, as the dream morphs into her ringing the bell of an apartment with its windows blindly empty.
She wakes up as the ringing becomes more insistent and realizes that in the movie the phone is ringing for all it’s worth.
A ridiculous anxiety dream. She knows she should have some common-sense and really, the explanation is so simple: she is worried and uncertain and…well. But she is glad anyway when the lights in the cabin come back on and the attendant is coming around to ask her for dinner choices.
****************************************************
As the plane is landing, taxiing to the gate, Makino Tsukushi is reading, pencil in hand.
She is so excited when she flips through her guide-book. New York. Wow. I am going to see New York. She remembers the girls in her school talking, with the airy nonchalance especially pitched for her ears, of trips to Paris, or Dubai, or Hong Kong. She has never even been out of the country before, and the prospect is frightening and exhilarating all at once.
She wishes, just a little bit, she had the easy assurance of Shizuka. Not to mention her language skills.
She concentrates on reading the guidebook, underlying sections, circling the most interesting places to see. Maybe if she treats it as just that, an exciting foreign trip, no more no less than being an anonymous sight-seer, she will forget that he stopped calling. That he is well and yet he didn’t call. That’s she’s waited and called him and he stayed silent and he left her a red tag as the first sign of remembering who she is.
The jerk.
She will give him a piece of her mind when she sees him. Wait and see.
But there is a jittery anxiety running through her thoughts and she knows she isn’t flying for half a day just to yell at him, another one of their fights.
Girls shouldn’t run after boys, but she’s never been exactly good at convention and doing what she is told (Isn’t it why they worked in the first place?). He’s done a lot of chasing, so a little in return might not hurt. Worked last time, didn’t it?
I am Makino Tsukushi and I know what I want.
I think.
She grabs her bag from under the seat and walks out of the plane.
There are clothes in her bag, and books. There is money, and her passport, and a ridiculous gold phone. And a slightly grubby piece of paper with an address, scribbled, untidy.
She will see him soon and she is sure everything will be OK.
