Author's Note:

Just to disclaim, rating T — pretty high(er) rating T, though. Sensitive subjects (dark themes), only implied, and some suggested yuri. Oh, and a few brief mentions of Greek mythology because yes. And and and Nana is pretty monotone, okay. OOC for Samus, too.

Concrit is much appreciated! Thanks!

Lukewarm Air

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it;
I can't breathe.

The boring blue (grey) sky is laughing (only a little bit) in its morning daze.

It's very dull this morning. I squeeze my picked (red) flowers a bit tighter.

The wildflowers are dancing in the small spring breeze.

Will my love be strong enough for this?

I think of you, the stupid person that you are. You're really mean and dumb taking my heart, you know? It's not very polite and it's incredibly stupid stealing something that belongs to somebody else. If you hadn't already stolen my life, I'd have done something about it.

The wind blows (a little bit) stronger.

You smiled kindly.
You smile kindly.
You're smiling kindly?

School's over. I only saw you fourteen times throughout the day, smiling, your blonde hair really long (just like your skirt) whilst your eyes were like the happiest of skies.

And now we're facing each other.

The breeze is stronger now. The sky's not as boring as earlier, instead a dark grey whilst it cried. It's really sad today, and then I wonder if it's because it's lonely.

Am I like the sky? (You're here, I know, but I hear your distant voice echo.)

I can't escape anymore, can I?

(Step, step, step — it's coming closer.)

The spring breeze is just too strong.

(It's hard to pick up the empty sack.)

There's an alley — a red arrow pointing left, the path not obvious enough, everything black except from red red RED — and a bad feeling.

You're beside me, I think, but then you're not here anymore.

Where are you?

I can hear your voice echo.

…

Please stop.

You smiled evilly.
You smile evilly.
You're smiling evilly.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. The air is suffocating me — wrapping around my neck really really really tightly — and it's lukewarm. I feel my collar undone, my white shirt ripped, my pride eaten alive as I feel your red squiggly hands tie many bunny ribbons around my neck, and then you pull — so tight, you had said, hands clawing at my body, and I can't breathe, I still can't breathe, and it hurts, it really hurts me so much.

Aren't moments like this meant to be hot?

(It's lukewarm, I remind myself. It's not hot enough; it's cold, so cold.)

One of my eyes is feline, the other a spiralling of black and white. I'm wearing a hoopie collar and I'm panting. My tongue is free — it's not used to leaving my normally silent mouth — as it gasps and gasps for air because since when has air been so hard to breathe in?

My face is scribbled over in black; I can't see, I can't breathe, and I don't know who I am anymore.

Am I even human?

In the close future,
I'll come steal it;
I'll come steal your dignity,
you had sneered.

I didn't know what you'd meant, but you had touched it, right? This black thing — I didn't think it could end — has been touched by you.

You touched,
you touched,
you touched,
I remember.

I hate it.

You smiled demise.
You smile demise.
You're smiling demise.

Fingerprints are on me.

I'm sweating in the bundle of lukewarm.

Everything's a dark red.

Your sleeves are no longer long.

Hey, who's Keres?

There's this red still — a thick string of red — and it's cutting my breath out of my body. It's very tight, I think, and it's all your fault that it's so secure on me, so at peace.

Do you think it ties us together?

(I don't know why else I keep running back to you.)

In this cruel play,
I'll leave my fate to Keres, okay?

(Please don't forget my picked flowers.)