Fragments
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fruits Basket or Kuragi Machi-chan. Takaya-sempai-sama does. However, I do own this drabble; please don't steal or I will have to hurt you. (smile)
She is the silence when others speak.
She is the gloom when they laugh.
She is the hesitance, and the loneliness, in a room filled with friends.
She is empty; she is nothing.
She is a floor strewn with clothes and empty bags.
She is a pile of books thrown down from a crooked shelf.
She is a box of broken chalk.
She is the single file of shoeprints on a snowy sidewalk.
She is the silent scream behind the impassive eyes.
She is the broken doll on the back of the shelf, never chosen, always overlooked.
She is trying to rebel, in whatever way she can.
She is the red-gold leaf falling on a windy autumn day.
She is a tiny spot of color on a sepia palette.
She is the slammed door, and the silence that cuts.
She is the honest tear that no one else could shed.
He is slowly collecting the broken pieces that make up her life, and fitting them back together.
She is not perfect, and never could be.
But maybe, she thinks, she doesn't have to be with him: because she can see that behind the façade of his beauty, he is as flawed as she.
And she knows that this is something she may allow herself to accept.
Owari.