Advertisement 3

Band: Kalafina, Nightmare, Ganglion, Band-Maid, CLOWD, Broken by the Scream

Pairing: Ni~ya&Hikaru, Wakana&Keiko, Sagara&Oni, Vivi&Ebi, Saiki&Akane, Misa&Kanami, Ryohei&Miku, Io&Yae, Kagura&Ayame, Miyavi&Melody

Rating: 17+

Genre: parody, comedy

Warnings: -

Note: How does adawinry see each pairing? Take the trip to the bathroom as an example. Again.

"Save water, bathe with your girlfriend!"

* * *

Hikaru: You wanna take a bath with me, because the TV said so?

Ni~ya: Yes, that's what I've meant.

Hikaru: But you'll talk me during the supper instead of staring into your food.

Ni~ya: . . .

* * *

Keiko: *hisses* *growls* *scratches*

Wakana: I guess it means no.

* * *

Oni: Sagara, you're so handsome~

Sagara: And you're drunk. No.

* * *

Ebi: *chuckles*

Vivi: *also chuckles*

Ebi and Vivi: *they both chuckle and forget what they were supposed to do*

* * *

Saiki: Akane?

Akane: *blushing* Okay...

* * *

Kanami: *grabs Misa by the hand and jumps to the bathroom*

Misa: Eh, okay. *follows her*

* * *

Io: YAE!

Yae: Why are you screaming?

Io: BATHTUB! NOW!

Yae: ...I'm a little scared.

* * *

Kagura: *growls*

Ayame: Okay, no means no...

* * *

Ryohei: Miku, honey~

Miku: I'm coming, sweetheart~

* * *

Miyavi: Melody, let's make a third baby!

Melody: In a bathtub?

Miyavi: Yes!

* * *

The end

Advertisement 2

Band: THE KIDDIE, heidi., UNiTE., Kameleo, Gotcharocka, Moran, Matenrou Opera, Dio - Distraught Overlord, CLØWD, Purple Stone, Yusai, Lost Ash, Shounenki, Crimson Shiva, LACK-CO., Garak's

Pairing: Sorao&Jun, Yoshihiko&Kiri, Kohsuke&Nao, Lin&Sana, Haku&Mio, Hikaru&Yui, Daisuke&Kouichi, Takeshi&Takashi, Jui&Jun, Tero&Toya, Soan&Hitomi, Ivy&Vivi, Sizna&Sono, Iori&Kou, Keiya&Fuma, Gaku&Orochi, Saku&Yoshi, Mikaru&Syu, Kei&Erina, Dye&Sai, Rei&Kou, Nao&Eiki, Tokiya&Natsuki, Higiri&Milk, Narumi&Juri, Nagi&Rumina

Rating: 17+

Genre: comedy, parody

Warnings: -

Note: How does adawinry see each pairing? Take the trip to the bathroom as an example. Again.

 "Save water, bathe with your girlfriend!"

* * *

Jun: Shinobu, Shinobu, Shinobu!

Sorao: I'm coming! Man, you're so impatient...

Jun: If you weren't so slow, I wouldn't have to be impatient!

* * *

Yoshihiko: Kiri-chan~

Kiri: *throws drumstick at Yoshihiko*

Yoshihiko: *dodges* You could just say "no".

Kiri: It didn't work yesterday.

* * *

Kohsuke: Naohisa, I have a question.

Nao: No.

Kohsuke: *takes a bug out of his pocket* I'll throw this under your shirt.

Nao: ...I'm going to buy the bubble bath.

* * *

Lin: Sana, Sana~

Sana: *laughs hysterically* No.

* * *

Haku: *stands in front of the shelf with bubble baths* Should I take the flower scented one, forest scented one or the sea scented one? Or maybe orange or strawberry? We didn't use the cherry one in a while, but the lavender scented one sounds nice and we didn't try it yet. But Ryosuke complains about his lower back pain, so maybe the aloe one? Or maybe something sweet? Cocoa, cola or bubble gum? Cinnamon is more fit for the winter...

Mio: *got so lost in his thoughts that he can't hear whatever Haku is talking about*

* * * 

Hikaru: I want to ask you, if...

Yui: No.

Hikaru: I know you'd say that, so...

Yui: *smacks his head*

Hikaru: Hey, I didn't ask in the end!

Yui: But you wanted to.

Hikaru: . . .

* * *

Daisuke: Can we take a bath together?

Kouichi: Okay, but don't make bubbles.

Daisuke: . . .

Daisuke: . . .

Daisuke: . . .

Daisuke: Oh. Okay.

* * *

Takeshi: *sits in the bathtub with a fried chicken*

Takashi: *shrugs* *gets into the bathtub and eats some chicken with Takeshi*

* * *

Jui: *pulls Jun to the bathroom*

Jun: Junichi! Last time I tripped and fell and you fainted and it wasn't yay. Do you really think it's a good idea?

Jui: I'll make tomato miso, if you agree.

Jun: ...you won.

* * *

Toya: *hugs the bathtub*

Tero: I get the idea, but all you needed to do is ask.

* * *

Soan: *hugs Hitomi from behind* Are we going to take a bath together, Hito-chan?

Hitomi: Sure, but maybe leave the undressing for when we get to the bathroom.

Soan: *undoing the last button from Hitomi's shirt* Don't question me, Hito-chan.

* * *

Vivi: Toshi, put down the pasta. We're going to take a bath.

Ivy: Can I bring my pug-shaped sponge?

* * *

Sono: CAN YOU GET THIS SQUIRMING CAT OUT OF THE WATER?!

Dura: Meow!

Sizna: No?

* * *

Iori: Kou?

Kou: *looks at Iori*

Iori: *already undressed*

Kou: I like that idea~

* * *

Keiya: Fuma, listen...

Fuma: *takes a picture of Dora* Will you let me be seme?

Keiya: What. No.

* * *

Gaku: And then we'll wear those fluffy bedrobes from Keiya and Fuma and... Are you listening to me?

Orochi: *fell asleep*

Gaku: . . .

* * *

Yoshi: *does a frontflip on his way to the bathroom*

Saku: I'll pretend I understand...

* * *

Mikaru: SYU, ARE YOU FUCKIN' READY?

Syu: I'M READY FOR FUCKIN'~

* * *

Erina: *clings onto Kei* Kei-chan~

Kei: *eats gummies* No.

Erina: But.. But Kei-chan!

Kei: *puts gummy into Erina's mouth* No.

Erina: . . .

* * *

Sai: *pretends to be a princess*

Dye: You want to encourage or discourage me?

* * *

Kou: I wanna be a flower~

Rei: What does it have to do with it?

Kou: Lily?

Rei: Aah... Okay.

* * *

Eiki: *trips on the tiles*

Nao: *sighs* Normal.

* * *

Tokiya: Do you have to drink coffee even in a bathtub?

Natsuki: *takes a picture of coffee*

Tokiya: I have no questions about that...

* * *

Higiri: Why is the water white?

Milk: I poured some milk in it.

Higiri: What.

* * *

Narumi: I poured the raspberry bubble bath, lit up the candles, turned on romantic music and you...

Juri: *higging plush Minion* I really cannot bring him with me?

Narumi: *heavy sigh* Why do I even try so hard?

* * *

Rumina: *he didn't even see the commercial, because...*

Nagi: *...watches vistlip's live DVD for the hundreth time*

* * *

The end

The Historian's Son

Rating: 17+

Genre: heavy angst, slice of life

Warnings: terminal illness, death

Note: For my favourite lecturer from the university.

He was an only child. Like all only children, a bit spoiled. But still well mannered. Or so he thought. After all, he was a good student. He had only As and Bs. Except for just one subject.

Ironically, history.

Why is it ironic, you will ask. Well, because he was the historian's son.

"Why do I need this?" he has been always asking his Father.

The Father has been sighing and trying to explain this, but the Son could not understand after all.

He won't like history. No, period.

Boring, stupid, useless.

He already preferred to solve equations on math or read another lecture on literature lessons.

He knew that his Dad was disappointed because of it. That his own Son did not share his passion. Because he had to admit one thing to Dad - history was his Dad's life passion. He could talk about it for hours. First he worked at school, then at the university. His students loved him for his ability to put himself in their shoes and act like a human being rather than a deity.

Dad traveled a lot, mostly to the United States. He loved this country, he fell in love with its culture and economy. He was very knowledgeable about every topic related to this country.

But the Son still hated history. He didn't need it to live. At most for computer games. But besides that, his life was happy without it.

One day, however, this bubble burst. The doctor told them about diagnosis, a crushing diagnosis.

Mum was crying. For a long time. In a pillow. She thought no one saw her tears, but her Son saw them. He even heard them.

Dad didn't cry. He was sitting in the kitchen reading a book about the USA and drinking lemon tea. As if nothing happened.

The Son was angry with his Dad. He sat down across from him, a bit offended.

"Why don't you hug her at least?" he asked firmly, trying to force his voice to not tremble.

He tried to be a strong man, after all, he was eleven years old.

"She asked me to give her a moment to settle down" replied the Father, taking a sip of his tea.

He looked at his Son and ruffled his hair.

It was too much for eleven years old boy. After a moment his cheeks were wet.

"I don't want you to die" he whispered, clutching his fingers into his Dad's plaid shirt. "I don't want it!"

Dad didn't say anything. He just patted his head.

He was silent.

Actually, he was silent for several years. He was silent about his illness all this time.

He told some students. Others didn't know. Others knew only a little of the truth.

That he is sickly, that his immunity is weak, that he has had five operations.

The Son remembered each of them well. He was always afraid that his Dad wouldn't come back.

But he was coming back. Always.

He came back on Friday too. He ate lunch, told them that the students were trying to avoid passing the exam again. That he would let them cheat anyway until the first person returned the test, so they don't have to panic. That he made an appointment with a student for Monday's duty, because she had one extra absence. And that his colleague from work greeted him five times and that his friend offered fudge to everyone. He got one too. He claimed that the fudge was good, although it stuck his teeth together for a good minute.

Then came Saturday. Dad was strangely moody and a bit broody. But they watched a controversial documentary together and played a game that was supposed to be historical. Apparently, because Dad had a lot of reservations about the correctness of the events presented.

This time it was the Son, who was silent. He didn't want to upset Dad by interrupting him, because he honestly didn't care what really happened. Besides, actually, Dad had a special gift for storytelling. You could listen to him for hours. Even as if he was analyzing a telephone directory or some quantum physics question.

During the night, Mum called an ambulance. Dad felt bad. Bad enough to complain about it.

The Son laid down on the bed next to him and looked up at the ceiling, searching for the right song in the playlist.

"What are you doing?" asked the Father.

His voice was weak.

"Music is said to ease the pain" replied Son, taking one earphone from his ear and handing it to Dad. "Take this. Maybe it will help you."

Dad smiled gently and ruffled his hair as always. He put an earphone in his ear.

They were laying like this and waiting for ambulance, listening to the music. Son almost fell asleep, but then a music stopped suddenly, which woke him up.

"What happened?" he was confused.

He looked at phone's screen. It was black.

"Crap, it discharged. I forgot to charge it."

Son looked at his Dad. A slight smile wafted across his face. His eyes were still closed.

But something was wrong. Son felt a strange coldness. But not as a temperature, but an atmosphere.

When paramedics entered his parents' bedroom, they didn't have to tell anything. At least they didn't have to tell him. He had already known that his Dad fell asleep forever.

Maybe even in the moment, when his battery's energy discharged.

Mum has been crying again. This time even longer.

A newspaper that Dad got from a friend from USA, was left opened on the kitchen table. In the sink there was still the mug that his Son had given him for his birthday. Plaid shirts and his favorite black jacket still wore his scent.

But he wasn't here anymore. He was somewhere else, somewhere beyond, unavailable, unattainable.

He vanished, as if he disappeared in the air.

Meanwhile one question appeared in the Son's mind for the first time, when he sat at the table and brushed an american newspaper with his fingers.

Maybe... It's time to start liking history?

The end

Memories as white as snow

Band: Acme

Pairing: Rikito&Haru

Rating: 17+

Genre: slice of life

Warnings: hospital, illness

Note: Sickfic about Rikito's illness.

Based on true story.

Pain.

I remember only that.

This pain.

And after that, nothing.

As if they turned my power off, took out my batteries and threw me off the balcony on the sixth floor.

Later I remember the hospital. Doctors, parents and my siblings. And a full dose of medicine. In a drip. It would be too dangerous in pills.

I was dumbfounded by them. I didn't fully understand what was happening to me and where I was.

I opened my eyes and saw a white ceiling.

I closed them and it was dark again.

I wanted to be with you. On the stage.

But I couldn't.

I just wanted to be with you just like that.

But I couldn't do that either.

I wanted to be with you. Talk. Hug. Anything.

But I couldn't do that either.

Perhaps you visited me. Maybe you said something. Or maybe you were just bringing flowers.

Or maybe you stayed longer and whispered in my ear that we would be playing together again soon.

But I don't know that. I don't know, because I don't remember anything. Too strong drugs. As if I was in a trance. As if I was alive and dead at the same time.

Maybe you were holding my hand, maybe you even kissed my hand or my cheek. Maybe you were humming something as you put fresh flowers in a vase, taking out the old ones first.

Maybe I even told you something. Maybe I told you something I shouldn't have and made you upset about it. Or maybe just the opposite, maybe I made you happy with some trifle?

I don't know. I don't remember. Memories are like blank white cards. White like that hospital ceiling and snow falling outside the window.

Snow? Yes. Snow.

I remember now. It was snowing.

I was looking out at the world behind the window, standing by the windowsill, waiting for something. Or someone. Probably for you.

I don't know, if you came, because I fainted. That's all I know. That's what I remember from doctors' conversations. They muttered among themselves that I would stay here for a long time and wondered, if I needed a transplant.

I didn't know, what was going on around me at all. As if I was losing my mind.

I wanted to stop seeing that goddamn white ceiling and breathe in that hospital air that had been filling my lungs for weeks.

Or maybe months?

I don't know. I even didn't know, what year it is. Was it January 1st already? Have you at least texted me?

You probably didn't come. You must have spent this New Year on stage.

Somewhere in my head there is a memory in the fog. The memory of the mirror I looked into. I think it was in the bathroom. I stood leaning against the white sink and stared at my pale face and the roots on my hair.

Then I was on the floor again. Cold. White. In hospital.

But the doctors said it was better now. I was in such good condition that they could reduce my dose of medication.

Awesome.

But I woke up again to see a white ceiling. I was still here. Still in the hospital. Still alone.

"Oh, you're awake" I heard suddenly and turned in the direction of this voice.

You were sitting on the chair. Your long hair fell over your shoulders, the green ends contrasted perfectly with the blackness of your clothes and the whiteness around.

"It's good, because I brought you something" you said, giving me some book. "When you'll feel better, you can read it."

You smiled and patted my head.

"I have to go" you said, standing up. "We'll talk, when you won't mumble under your breath about pink unicorns in maid's outfits. These drugs are strong... Well, see you later."

It's been the first memory, which wasn't blurry. Black and green among whiteness everywhere.

You started walking towards the door, but I grabbed your hand and stopped you.

Your hand was warm.

"What?" you looked at me, confused. "What happened?"

"Stay" I said as loud, as I could in my condition back then.

"I can't" you smiled apologizely. "You have to forgive me, but I can't."

I pulled you to me and you fell on the bed.

"I seriously can't" you repeated. "Can you let me go?"

I didn't want to let you go. I wanted to make you stay or take me with you.

Because I wanted to hug you all the time, not only now.

"What are you doing?" you asked. "I have to go, seriously."

I let you go. You smiled once again and left my room.

This memory is colorful. Clear. And vivid.

Memory lapses were over. The waiting has begun.

Now I knew calendar date. I already knew, how many days have passed since your last visit.

Memories slowly regained colour. Not only with you, although these had the most vivid colours.

And one day, after you have just left, I jumped out of bed, grabbed the drip stand and followed you out into the hall as much as possible.

"Haru!" I called you.

You turned back, surprised.

Maybe you wanted to ask, what happened. Or maybe you wanted to scold me for running. Or maybe for leaving my bed.

But you didn't have time to say anything, because your just slightly repealed lips have been closed by mine.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing, but I didn't care back then.

And you didn't care as well, because you kissed me back.

The ceiling was still white. Hospital pajamas too.

But behind a window I saw first flowers and green trees.

Spring finally came.

The end