Disclaimer: Gakuen Alice isn't mine
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lovely
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She smiles as purple slowly coats the horizons of her collarbones. It's beautiful, this map of color across her skin. She loves the little imperfections, the bruises, the scars, her failures put forth for all the world to see.
She loves him. His inky-black hair, sparkling crimson eyes.
"Mikan, what have you done?" She loves the pain that flashes across his face, the realization that it is his fault. It always has been. Everything she does is for him. She lives for him, breathes for him and, eventually, will die for him.
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As she looks up at his pale face, she can't help but wonder why he stays by her side. She knows she doesn't deserve him, and yet he insists otherwise.
This feeling of unworthiness tears her up inside as he smiles down at her and grasps her hand lightly in his. "I love you." He gently tucks a strand of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. "I love you," he repeats softly. She knows he is only trying to reassure himself. She also knows that it isn't the truth. How can someone as perfect as him love someone as broken as her?
But, as always, she smiles a sweet little smile and stands on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his waiting lips. "I love you too, Natsume-kun."
She knows it's all a lie. He'll leave her someday and insist that there was never anything between them. That the almost palpable electricity between them never existed. It has always been one-sided. She knows this too, although she wishes that she didn't.
Ignorance is bliss. She gave up her innocence and ignorance long ago when she gave him her soul.
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The black haired boy looks down at her and smiles gently. She is absolutely stunning, his little bit of perfection. He still doesn't understand why she ever chose to be with him. He has never cared for much of anything before he met her, but she has changed him with her lighthearted smiles and innate kindness.
They stop before a white clapboard house and he gathers her in a hug, sighing contentedly. She fits perfectly in his arms and at that moment he knows he loves her. Her thin arms wrap around his waist and he smiles into her wavy hair.
After all too short a time, she releases him and smiles radiantly. Thank you she says for walking me home. It was lovely. It is all he can do to nod silently, he is afraid that if he speaks he will make a fool of himself. She walks –practically dances– up the cracked sidewalk and blows a kiss at him; he misses the sadness that flashes across her features as she shuts the red wooden door behind herself.
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She slumps to the floor brokenly, digging through her little pink purse. She knows it's wrong, but she still can't help herself. Natsume never has loved her, after all, and she can't bear to live in the world with that truth. She smiles faintly, memories clouding her vision as she contemplates the little red pill. Natsume laughing. Natsume giving her half of his sandwich at lunch. Natsume helping her with her homework. Natsume pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Natsume.
Natsume.
Natsume.
He won't even talk to her anymore; he didn't even bother saying goodbye to her this afternoon. She drags a hand through her tangled hair and wonders what changed. When was it not enough that they were together? When did she begin to feel so alone? He is always so distant, constantly staring down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. It is disgust? Hatred?
She pinches the delicate skin stretching over her collarbones, attempting to draw her mind away from him. She can't even feel the pain anymore, she is too far gone. He doesn't love her, she knows this. She can feel it deep within her bones. She would do anything for him and he doesn't even care. Silent tears leak down her flushed cheeks and she angrily wipes them away. He hates her weakness and she knows she cannot cry, he'll hate her even more.
She wraps an arm around her side and pulls herself to her feet. She sways slightly as suns and moons dance across her vision until all she can see is velvety black.
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He stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets as he trudges home. He hates leaving her, hates this empty feeling of being alone. Her smiles taunt him in his mind's eyes and he shakes his head to dispel the vision. He reaches into his back pocket for his phone, frowning as he realizes that in his haste to be alone with Mikan, he had stuffed it into her backpack instead of his just as they had left school.
To his consternation, a smile bubbles up as he turns and walks back to her house, his footsteps light. What am I doing? he asks himself as he looks at the sun setting over the horizon, casting shadows over the cars parked along the sides of the street. When did I get in this deep?
He strides up the path to her house, rapping sharply on the screen door. He just came to get his phone. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that's what he tries to convince himself. Deep down, he knows that he only wants to see her smile again.
Nobody answers the door and he figures that she must be listening to music in her room; maybe she's even dancing. He smiles at the thought. Kneeling down, he picks up the terra-cotta pot and winces as a few crumpled leaves fall from the wilting plant. He slides the shining silver key out from underneath the pot and sets the plant back down gently. He unlocks the front door and lets himself in. "Mikan?" he calls.
The sun has now set and the lights inside are off. Hearing no reply he fumbles for the light switch he knows is to his left. He takes a step forward just as the light clicks on and he bumps into something on the floor. Looking down, he drops to his knees, eyes wide.
She's beautiful, splayed out across the tile floor like angel fallen from heaven. Her skin is unnaturally pale and the circles under her eyes stand out against the stark white color of her skin. He can see the pulse fluttering at her neck and all of the sudden she looks so small, so fragile. He wonders if she has fallen asleep in the doorway; he knows she can fall asleep almost anywhere.
His fingers trail down her neck and run along the collar of her shirt. He frowns at the dusky purple color coating her creamy collarbones. Her skin is covered in small white crescent marks and he knows. In a split second, he knows that she has done this to herself. The marks, the paleness, the circles under her eyes. His hand trails back up her neck and he cups the back of her head, wincing as he feels evidence that she is not sleeping and instead has tumbled to the ground. She has fallen, his little piece of perfection shattered.
She blinks at the light as her eyes open and she gazes up at him as he frowns down at her sadly. "Mikan, what have you done?" She smiles, pressing her cheek against his hand, and wonders if she is finally in heaven.
"Mikan, what did you do to yourself?" He asks again, thumb rubbing soothing circles against her temple.
"I loved you." She smiles sweetly.
He loves me
He loves me not
He loves me
He loves me not.
a/n: Thank you for reading! Actually, I wasn't planning on writing this story at all, but I had a word document up on my computer and just started writing.....so, thank you everyone for the reviews on Beastly and Les Anges Meritent de Mourir. I suppose this story belongs with those two in some sort of succession.
Comments and criticism are welcome :D Please drop me a review!
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-SL