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A/N: This is one of those stories where you can pretend the couple is whoever you want it to be, though I had one in mind when I wrote it ^^ Doesn't work for Yaoi or Yuri though, sorry! This is just a break from Crown Impulses. I was watching the spanish play at school on diversity when I got this idea, so I just typed it out in like 10 minutes. It's not that well-written, it's not that moving, but I think it has a message.
This fic is for HOTARU, you happy? LOL! I still have the finish that other fic! And you better review...or...yknow! And how about San Diego instead of DC? heheheh!
I don't own "I'm Like a Bird" by Nelly Furtado, but the idea is mine mine mine! I'm always contactable, my email addy is joy_fishy@hotmail.com, for email and MSN, sunshine ba ba for AIM, 71018292 for ICQ, Yahoo! stellar687@yahoo.com. I LOVE TO TALK! ^^;
Though tabloids may inform you otherwise, I don't own digimon.
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He lay looking at the ceiling. Waiting, for the light footsteps that might come. Waiting, until sleep finally claimed him.
The next day, he would wake up, alone, the spot on the bed next to him untouched, cold. He would shove it out of his mind, going to work like usual, throwing himself into his job, while back in his mind, her face still lurked in his mind. Along with a question, the same one he asked himself every moment of every day.
Would she ever come back?
He couldn't remember how they met, how they had found each other. He just knew, that she was his joy, his life, and he was hers. But she could never stay. The nights she came, he would cling to her, holding her tightly when they fell asleep. Only to find in the morning she had left once again, leaving no trace but a slight indentation in his sheets.
Every few nights, she would come back to him. Every night they would be together, hearts beating as one. Every morning, she would be gone.
Then, the visits became farther and farther apart. She would appear looking more worn, more tired, except for the light in her eyes, the light of his life. He would ask, no beg, her to tell him why she couldn't stay, why they couldn't be together always, when their love was as clear as night and day. She would never tell him, biting her lip as she told him that he wouldn't understand. He comforted, held her in his arms, like a dove folding a wing over her offspring, shielding it from the harsh world it was not a part of.
But the younger dove always flew away, throwing itself into a world it was too good for, an unforgiving world that shed no tears for each time it fell to the ground, it's feathers stained, tainted by it's sultry condition. The mother would shed those tears, and hold her offspring close to her, knowing that they would again leave.
By now, she was hardly more than a skeleton. Her joyful face was a painful, stretched mask, and even her breathing was jagged and rough. He clasped her to himself knowing that he was losing her.
Suddenly, the visits stopped. It had been weeks since she had come to him, weeks filled with waiting, waiting, without ever a coming.
It was by chance that he had found out at all. He had been paging through the newspaper, when a few of the last pages fell out. When he bent to pick them up, a title caught his eye, WOMAN O.D.ed, LEFT NOTE.
May 16th- Yesterday, -------------, a girl in her mid 20's, was found in a back alley. An autopsy revealed the young lady had overdosed on heroin, confirming the empty hypodermic needle lying a few feet away from her. Apparently, she knew that she was about to die; professionals say that even if she hadn't gone overboard this time, her system was so tattered she wouldn't have lived much longer. Unlike most drug addicts found dead, she left a note, which read:
I'm like a bird, I'll only fly away
I don't know where my soul is
I don't know where my home is
All I need for you to know is
Your faith in me brings me to tears
Even after all these years
And it pains me so much to tell
That you don't know me that well
And though my love is rare
Though my love is true
Hey I'm just scared
The paper fluttered down to the floor, while he sat back in his chair. He looked out the window at the sky she would never again see, at the water she would never look at, at the grass she would never sit on. A movement caught his peripheral vision, and he turned just in time to see a young bird fall to the ground.
No tears fell from his eyes, and no anger flooded his soul. What might have been was a question he stopped asking
himself a long time ago. At least she was somewhere where the world couldn't touch her, tearing her down.