This was inspired by the song "Lips of an Angel" by Hinder
Authoress' Note: This was inspired by the song "Lips of an Angel" by Hinder. Beautiful song. I recommend anyone to listen to it.
AU: NatsumeXSumire/MikanXRuka
But it's not really what it looks like, so read ahead to understand what I mean. Yes, this is a one-shot epilogue.
Here, you see the worst – the world of deceit, evil and cruelty. Here you see the sadness, helplessness of life, greed, selfishness and anger, but amidst all we have a speck of hope – your shining light.
It may be a little awkward to start a story with the epilogue, although it seems the best way to start this story is with its ending.
Epilogue
Natsume looked over his shoulder towards the sleeping Sumire through the dimness of the night. Upon pausing at the sight, he reverts his attention to the phone grappled on his hand, his voice tight on his throat, "Do you need me to come over?"
A trembling raspy tone emitted from the speaker, "N-No. No. I just need to talk to you – to hear your voice again."
Her voice only assured Natsume the worst. He couldn't even bare to tolerate Mikan's submission to fear. Simply knowing that felt inhuman to Natsume.
"I'll come there. Now," he whispered, determined as he rushed into his jeans and shirt, sitting roughly on his bedside holding the phone with his shoulder in the almost murderous silence. "Just hold on. Please."
"Natsume, don't. It's the middle of the night. It's not necess- " Natsume could feel her shaking from his end.
Natsume, already fully dressed took his car keys hanging from his kitchen wall and preceded to the still gripping his cell phone tightly towards his ear. "I'll be there." He trotted through the gates of his manor, proceeding into the garage.
"No, Natsume Do not come. It's... it's fine," Mikan attempted to sound firm, but failed.
He hushed her, "My mind won't change. I'm coming over, whether or not he's there." He footed on throttle towards the foggy night road beyond. It had been weeks since he last saw Mikan all because of one reason he chose to ignore tonight. The memory was agonizing yet he was willing to risk it all just to see her.
"Just talk me through."
A thundering crashing of the door with the wall echoed through the household on Mellow Avenue. The air darkened at his presence.
"Who's that on the phone?" the raging voice spat.
Surprised, she reflexively struggled with the phone and shut it off. "N-no one. No one!" Her eyes sufficed fear and pain and the hopelessness of his opting of relenting.
A pain-hurling scream was heard while the lights turned off and pitiful moans emitted from the house startled the neighborhood; yet no one could rescue her.
No one.
"Mikan?" he screamed repetitively at his cell phone. Swerving through the darkness, surviving the hollowness of the streets and the gesture of tribulations that ensues, his spine shivered, knuckles turned white, and hands boiled on the wheel. Anxiously he drove past Brooklin Street, turned a screeching left to Mathew Avenue and into Mellow.
He braked the car and hurriedly jumped off then barged into the barren door of the quaint house he arrived in.
"MIKAN!" his heart raced miles, and his eyes were red with fury and worry.
Once he received no response, he rammed the nearest door with his shoulder screaming her name. The door gave in and he entered with caution expecting the worst. He gripped his fist which radiated fire like a furnace with utmost hatred and fright; this served as his guide.
Narrowing his eyes upon the disarrayed foyer and living room, intuition led him towards the kitchen – not that the thought was anything pleasing--at least, not the after effect of remembering.
"It's the house I picked. Isn't it beautiful, Natsume?" Her voice is so beautiful.
"Stop ruining my garden! Get back inside and do something else!" It sounded like an artful whisper of the wind.
"The cake's delicious, Natsume! Try it!"
Deafening silence seemed most dangerous as he recklessly he pushed himself through the kitchen door.
She sat sprawled on the kitchen tiles, weeping in her hands. He walked up to her, lowing his flame and hugged her closely. The tacit mellow of the moment was clearly understandable for Natsume's gaze was soon caught by the man lying lifeless against the kitchen stove as it slumped like a raccoon. Doubtingly shocked, Natsume looked at Mikan's trembling body then intrinsically smirked.
Ruka, why?
Yet, it was hardly over.
Authoress' Note: So obviously I can't have a good plot meant for this story. I made this a year or two ago when I heard the song Lips of an Angel for the first time. I'm afraid this is a wanna-be drama that simply was written out of mood, hence no prior planning was brought about—unless, of course, a bunch of people fervently implore me to work something out with this chapter and continue. I can't imagine that happening though.
I posted it to see how it would be treated in . I'm not at all too pleased with the writing myself, the story could do with loads of revising and editing, but I'm just curious as to how it fairs here. It's not like it'll be likely that I'll continue it anyway.
So with that, I say thanks for reading!
I'd appreciate the most useful complements to the frankest constructive criticism only. Flame wisely. That's all I ask before you leave. ;)