This takes place after the Yellow and even after the HGSS chapters (sorry if there's anything wrong, I haven't read the HGSS arc yet), so that makes Yellow a lot older than 14; how old exactly is up to you.
Also, where the ~...~ is, just imagine that line is crossed out. Thanks to ffnet's limited formatting, I was unable to perform that on my text.
There's a lot that has changed over the last year. I can't tell when or how - all I know is that things, that my life is different from what it used to be a year ago. And there's not really a big event to blame it all on, there wasn't a great disaster or a lucky coincidence or anything of that kind that might have had its share in this.
Though, I'm not able to deny that the hands of fate have pulled a few strings to make this happen. There's always a meaning behind things, nothing happens just because, I strongly believe that. And the longer my current life situation stays the way it is, the stronger my belief grows, the stronger I grow.
I haven't been alive for long, by far not, I suppose you can still call me a child. At times naive, but I like to keep it that way. Still I have the wisdom of a middle-aged man, made experiences of adventures that not even the oldest and bravest have even dared to think about. I might say I have been through hell or at least I have seen it in the eyes of many people. But that would be a little too much.
All those memories, these experiences, these lessons I've learned; they have shaped me, roughened my soul here and there, broken my heart at some spots. And as much as I like to say how much my past has helped me grow up and into this person I have become, it's hard to deny how much it has been wearing me out over the years.
I think I might have been hit by the recoil of my actions at some point in my life. The repercussions echoed into the presence and even the future and without mercy, they stroke me down. I broke down, I teared up, I died.
I've seen people react in many ways to disasters, to losses, to the cruelest and ugliest incidents one could imagine. I've seen them freaking out, I've watched them mirroring the brutality of what they have encountered. But I've rarely seen anyone die in a metaphorically way. Well, to be honest, I have only ever known one person who instead of hurting, simply faded into a grayer version of themselves.
He has been such an easy-going person, so cheerful and energetic, I have always admired that. But when we met again, there was nothing more than the emotionless hint of a smile lingering on his lips, a hollow look in his eyes. Even today, whenever we meet, he tends to blend into the background, just fades into the spaces between us without warning.
Sometime in my life, I was scared to end up like him. Losing myself was already frightening enough, an irreparable damage to my personality, but I'd rather give the old me up to create a new one than to fade into nothingness like him.
And that was when things started to change.
Being so lost in my misery, I was blind to my environment. I didn't see that one star shining brighter, all I saw was the darkness around it. I didn't notice how it came closer and how it changed into the shape of a man.
I didn't realize he was there until he caught me before I could hit the ground.
Things went s-
"Yes? I'm outside." Calloused hands put down a pen and notebook into the soft grass next to the young woman to whom they belong. Her long golden hair shines brightly in the warm sunlight as she brushes through with her hand, pushing the huge straw hat off her head.
A man in his mid-thirties steps onto the porch, a tray in his hands with a teapot, cups, plates and sweets placed on top. There's a smile on his lips while he's setting the little table for the afternoon tea; he knows how much she enjoys this time of day. As he straightens up again, their gazes meet and their smiles grow wider. "I didn't know you were back from Blue's already, how's she?"
"She's fine, work's keeping her busy so she didn't really have time for me," the young woman sighs and walks up the few steps to the man, leaning against him without hesitation. "I went to work to check up on things but Daisy threw me out right away." She cushions her head on his chest and lets him wrap his arms around her; she loves how much influence his presence has on her mood.
A chuckle sounds from his mouth, "I can't say that was wrong of her, you shouldn't go to work on your day off, Yellow. I know you care a lot but you're only overworking yourself." Gently he rubs her back, massaging her shoulders to help her ease off some of the stress.
"I know…" She really does, and she agrees to some extent. Thanks to him, she has been able to regain some of her self-confidence and ability to value herself. This is just how powerful his love is, and how strong their bonding binds them.
With a wide smile she looks up to him, cups the side of his face with the palm of her hand and caresses his cheek, along his prominent jaw and over to his rough and thin lips. She has come to love them anyway, they're a part of him as everything else, from his rather big feet to the scars on his hands and upper body to his shining red hair, that sometimes in the brightest of daylight has an orange gleam. All of that, of his looks and his personality, she loves all of it, now and forever.
It takes only the touch of their lips, their hearts melting together, to chase away her demons, memories and thoughts of the past. His love blows away the dust of her presence and opens the curtains to her future, one she recently doubted to have.
They break apart when the ringing of the phone reaches their ears. Nothing unusual with both of them having so many friends and responsibilities which is why they need each other so much.
When he disappears into their house again, she grabs her notebook and settles into one of the chairs by the table, to finish her entry.
~Things went s~
I know he's given up a lot only for me, and sometimes I wonder if he's really happy. But knowing that he is with me when he could be somewhere else, is proof enough for me that he loves me for who I am and for what I give him back.
There's no better cure to my ill heart than him.