Until the last of my days
A/N: AnoHana has been growing on me, especially these two.
That night she cried.
He was with her.
That evening she walked in silence.
He was with her.
That afternoon she rode in solitude.
He ran to her.
That morning she questioned everything.
He was as smug as he'd ever be.
That day she doubted right and wrong.
He always knows he's right.
Oh, she loved him.
No, she loves him.
It's painfully tear-jerking, the way she loves him.
She has her pride on the line.
He has his reputation.
They have their current "relationship".
It's a cycle that's not always as consistent.
She loves him (ever since), he loves her (the dead one and/or the other one), they have each other (non-romantically, but she wishes for it to be)
The next day she walks by him still, but now a foot behind him.
He continues on, a raging aura of rage and need develops itself around him.
He mumbles the dead friend's name; over and over, with added words and phrases.
She stares at his back from her peripheral vision.
She longs for him.
He barely acknowledges her presence.
He barely notices her.
The same route.
The same train.
The same routine everyday.
It sickens her.
It sickens her heart, not her entirely.
Keeping all emotion (all unknown love) under a strict lock and key at all times.
But the same routine, the same train, the same time, and the same person are quite enough for her.
To keep her on the brink, just the brink, of falling apart.
Yukiatsu.
She whispered.
A/N: Very short, I can tell. Reviews? I plan to write longer ones..