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Sep. 1st, 2003 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenI seem to be on a Lee kick, lately. (Must be the upcoming fight, oh does that look nice.)
When Lee stands up, it surprises her. It’s not that he’s taller--He’ll be taller than all of them one day. It’s that she hadn’t realized how short his injuries made him. How he’d hunched over his crutch, dragging his bandages and injuries with an uneven slump to his shoulders and awkward, hobbled steps. He hadn’t stood straight for a long, long time. Even after the surgery, he was always bent over, leaned against something for support, for a quick breath, before he tightened his grip on his crutch and moved on.
The other day he threw the crutch out the window and told her, eyes burning, that he didn’t need it anymore. So now he walks to the practice field, she comes with him, and she has to tip her chin up just little more to talk to him. Her eyes are level with his left shoulder, but she watches his left wrist—remembering the smooth line of the inside of his forearm but seeing how it’s not quite so smooth anymore. The bone was shattered. It healed crooked; faint but permanent like his limp, but in the same way no longer the first thing she notices when she comes to see him. He’s always held his head high, now it’s just a little higher, and just a little farther to glance down and catch her staring at his profile. Watching his eyes. Watching his lips.
They both blush, and look away, and walk a little faster. Sakura’s eyes are about level with his chest when she hunches, but she pretends she’s not thinking about that.
When Lee stands up, it surprises her. It’s not that he’s taller--He’ll be taller than all of them one day. It’s that she hadn’t realized how short his injuries made him. How he’d hunched over his crutch, dragging his bandages and injuries with an uneven slump to his shoulders and awkward, hobbled steps. He hadn’t stood straight for a long, long time. Even after the surgery, he was always bent over, leaned against something for support, for a quick breath, before he tightened his grip on his crutch and moved on.
The other day he threw the crutch out the window and told her, eyes burning, that he didn’t need it anymore. So now he walks to the practice field, she comes with him, and she has to tip her chin up just little more to talk to him. Her eyes are level with his left shoulder, but she watches his left wrist—remembering the smooth line of the inside of his forearm but seeing how it’s not quite so smooth anymore. The bone was shattered. It healed crooked; faint but permanent like his limp, but in the same way no longer the first thing she notices when she comes to see him. He’s always held his head high, now it’s just a little higher, and just a little farther to glance down and catch her staring at his profile. Watching his eyes. Watching his lips.
They both blush, and look away, and walk a little faster. Sakura’s eyes are about level with his chest when she hunches, but she pretends she’s not thinking about that.
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(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-01 09:33 pm (UTC)As usual, I am over here meeping in awe at your most recent fic. I loooove. (Lee fight! Can't wait!)