Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: This fic may cause slight depression. If you are already depressed, reading this fic may worsen symptoms. If symptoms worsen, consult your physician...blah blah blah. Enjoy. :)
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Step, step, turn. That's all there was to the dance. Simple and useless. Tea knew her skills could have been put to better use, but at the moment there weren't many calls for dancers. With the world declining economically, it was all she could do to get a job. She knew she should have been grateful to the company that hired her, but it was utterly annoying to know that the only thing she had going for her was a background dancer for children's plays. Step, step, turn.
Her form glowed under the blinding heat of the stage lights, only to be purposely out shined by the lead dancer in a cat suit. Tea found it upsetting. All of her childhood dreams...how was she to know that they would end up like this? Step, step, turn. Her heart was breaking to the sound of babyish melodies.
Step, step, turn. Sweat rolled down her face like the tears she couldn't cry. Tea was too strong to cry now. Her friends abandoned her for lives of their own. She was thrilled that they found their own happiness, but where did that leave her?
She knew the answer. It left her in the spotlight, just where she always wanted to be, alone. It was, in a way, her own, private darkness.
Perhaps it was the allure of the dancer's melancholy world that drew Kaiba to her side. He was tired, worn by the shallow tricks of business. Everything about his features seem to droop. That's how he appeared, leaning against the lamppost after the last showing. Tea stood at the back entrance, watching him. There was no need for words. Their eyes told each other everything.
They were forgotten souls, looking for refuge under each other's care.
Things seemed to change. With Kaiba's connections, Tea was able to dance on better stages. She was able to show the perfect talent that was trapped inside of her all along. She began to smile again. Kaiba leeched off of that smile, feeling a joy that he'd never had. Their live's were looking up and their hearts were breaking through the dark clouds that had saved them. That is, until the bullet missed.
It was a lovely day. It was too lovely, that nothing appeared like it could have gone wrong. But it did, and like all good things, it came to an end.
Her eyes traced the hollows of his neck and the crevices of his muscles. His sleeping, motionless, form entranced her. Her mind didn't seem to be working, and everything around her was just a blur of motion. The scent of crimson rust and sandalwood filled the air. At that moment, it didn't seem to bother her that he wasn't coming back. Nothing seemed to matter. It was just the two of them. Blood seeped around them; the dancer and the tyrant. It was beautiful. Her memories with him were...
beautiful.
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Ya'll can thank the influence of drugs for this ficcy. I got some teeth jerked out of my head and the pills they gave me are making me a bit loopy. I promise to re-write this eventually. Read and Review!