disclaimer: I don't own Pandora Hearts.
tomorrow in eden
...
"I used to paint the roses red," she says out of the blue, sips her tea, puts the cup back, and meets her companion's stare – a hollow red, completely unmoving. Boring into hers, probing, piercing; she isn't surprised, she expects this. As usual. A smile creeps to her face, and she finishes what she started, "when you weren't around."
The red gaze sparks a fiery amusement. "Oh? That's quite an odd habit you had there, ojou-sama. I never knew you were such an eccentric child…" He leans in, his lips pulled up by secret. "I wonder why you stopped doing that though? Did this rotten old man trample on your oh-so-unconventional hobby? Or something else did?"
She waves her hand dismissively. "I wanted to grow up, Break."
It is tea time, and their first time alone in a while without Gil's relentless grunts and snarls (toward Alice), Oz's buoyant attitude and toothy smiles, and Alice's demands of scrumptious food. They're sitting by the window, a nice breeze rolling over their faces in cool, lazy strokes, and the air smells like fresh spring and moss and damp earth. It smells aftermath.
Break raises an eyebrow and digs his fork into another slice of chocolate cake. "Elaborate, please. I'm afraid I'm not as young as I hope to be, and it's cruel to torture old men, you know, especially with teasing stories."
"First, I'm not teasing you." Sharon tears her eyes away from the window, and the golden sunlight escapes her face and falls onto her lap, and her visage glows only dimly now – but her eyes are still bright, as passionate as her voice when she opens her mouth again; "It's something I never told you about – something I never had the chance to tell you before, amidst… all the chaos."
And the silver haired guy knows what she means by that. His expression grows somber, but only for half a heartbeat; a moment later it retains its comical, blithe veneer. "Totally understood. Circumstances don't allow, so, please, go on."
"I used to think that red was an exotic color." She lets the first words to sink in, finds his ruby stare unwavering. "I used to think that red meant blossom and growing up." It was a silly assumption, but it was true. Sharon's childhood was pale, was always white dresses laced with violet happiness and white smiles knitted by sugar pink ribbons. She doesn't remember how long the white lasted. She also doesn't remember if her smiles back then were pure as snow or merely frozen.
She does remember, however, when all the blinding white ended: a string of magic words and a little bit of blood (red, so red) was all it took to draw the first horizon on her blank canvas. But even then, she never felt quite red… never felt drenched in it, matured.
"I would bring a bucket of red paint and pour it all over the flowers, regardless of colors. It was ludicrous, I know, and I'm glad it didn't go for a long time... But even after drawing the real red line in my life – becoming a contractor," she draws sharp breaths then, blinks once, "I don't think… I ever blossomed." Sharon breaks their eye contact and averts her attention to her hands. Her body grows (ever so slowly though it may be), and inside it, she feels even smaller… sometimes trapped.
Break surprises her by standing up and circling around the table. He looms before her, Emily forgotten on the table beside his tea cup and half eaten (this would be fourth) cake. Grin elongating, he bends slightly. "Do you want to know something, ojou-sama?"
A frown creases Sharon's forehead, a sign of disapproval. "I'm not done telling stories here," she stares up defiantly at him, fully aware of the impertinence leaking in her tone. But she is annoyed now. And not just because her companion decides it was a good idea to deem her tale unworthy of listening in a tranquil afternoon accompanied by tea and biscuits and cake, but also because he's being Break, and being Break means the world and its trivial matters can wait.
And she doesn't like being interrupted when she's actually being serious.
"Well, I suppose your stories can wait—" she begins, but is cut off.
"I found a flower, long ago. I can't remember much, but I think it bloomed in winter."
Sharon shuts her mouth. Eyebrows pulled down together again, this time by puzzlement. She tries to rein in her curiosity, but can't help but ask, "What do you mean?"
"It saved whatever left of me. Reminded me so much of spring. Reminded me that winter could end, after all."
Before she can open her mouth again to stress her growing bewilderment, Break descends on her in a flurry of silver and purple, warm breath and faraway memories, soft lips and forbidden longing.
He tastes nothing like the sweet indulgence he was engrossed in just a while ago.
He tastes like the forbidden fruit.
When he draws back (which feels like a lifetime after), she's breathless. And then she can taste something else, something bitter and cold and urgent in her mouth.
She dares to look into his eyes and can't locate his usual wittiness. Instead, she finds an alien, strange… sadness.
"Flowers always grow, Sharon." He grins. "But they also rot and wither."
Sharon tries to part her lips. She can't.
She hates that look. It's as if he's saying goodbye and leaving—
But Break does. He whirls on his heel, leaving Sharon and her heart thumping and breaking, scattered on the floor.
Later (much later), she realizes that the sun has already set and the clock shows it's already eight, realizes that it doesn't tick, and that Break has gone with the wind.
The room still smells of aftermath, and now she can taste ashes in her mouth.
...
a/n: something I wrote about two months ago. Don't know why I never posted it. Break/Sharon is my favorite pairing in PH and I've been wanting to write something for the series... so here you go. A bit on the angst side and some vagueness included - I think I've forgotten how to write fluff these days.
I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think! Reviews would be greatly appreciated.
- Ryfee