oblivion
Synopsis: And you never called me Mako afterwards. And all you ever did was sleep. Like now, just eat and sleep and go to work. You never danced afterwards, Draco. We never danced afterwards.
Another Mako / Draco fic. One-shot, a bit(actually very) short, a bit angsty. I adore angst (8
Hm...what else...uh, enjoy:D
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The room was unsettlingly empty. Its plain white walls glared at her, taunting and harassing her with haunting memory. The gentle glow from the night-light emphasized the vacancy of the space, her own shadow dancing across the walls. Nothing. Darkness.
"Makoto?" A voice called behind her. She needn't to turn about. She knew it was him. It was always him.
"Yes."
"Come to bed, Makoto. It's one in the morning and you have work tomorrow." He reasoned sensibly. The sound of his feet shuffling closer echoed the room.
"It's snowing, you know." She suddenly said, causing the man's movements to come to an abrupt halt.
He knew what was coming.
"It's snowing just like it did that night. Heavy and fast. Everything so fast. I wonder if maybe it hadn't snowed, if maybe there hadn't been delays on the road, if maybe--"
"Come sleep, Makoto." He interjected with dire need, voice dangerously gruff and near commanding in sound.
"Come sleep. We have work tomorrow."
"And you never called me Mako afterwards. And all you ever did was sleep. Like now, just eat and sleep and go to work. You never danced afterwards, Draco. We never danced afterwards." She continued listlessly, her frame beginning to rock back and forth rhythmically, like a rocking chair.
"Sweet little baby, don't say a word. Mommy's gonna buy you a--"
Draco visibly trembled, his open-palmed hand left wavering uncertainly in the air. He stared blankly at the extremity, stare distant and fearful. Silence.
Makoto quietly lay down on the stark wooden floor, curling into a ball for warmth. Draco followed, sprawling his larger person about hers. Without a word said, she turns and presses her body to his. One.
They soon fall asleep. The bulb of the nightlight is fading. A single photo slips from Makoto's hold. With the light's final beam of illumination, the image of a beaming infant flashes.
Darkness. And then…oblivion.
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Mkay, I'm certain one of you will go on about how Draco is simply out of character. Well, too bad. My story, my way. Though I would like to say, Draco may be a hard, no shit badass...he's still inclined to feelings. Gosh.
I was thinkinging if I should upload other ficcleets under this story or as independent ones? Whatcha guys think?
Uh, review, please?
