Behind the beautiful face an evil was hiding. Who'd have guessed it. The kind hands that had washed away sins and slowly taken care of unquestioned wounds. They'd taken the lives of numerous people with no remorse. The eyes that had gazed in loving affection and adoring amusement, they'd watched emptily as suffering continued on and on, at the hands of a beautiful smile. Because the smile never left, it was the only permanent fixture. A grin of content, a smile of mystery, a smirk of victory or a pure uncontrollable smile. It was always there, on the face of an angel.
Maybe though, the face wasn't always that of an angel, maybe in those times of emptiness and those murders that face became hideous, became a demon. Maybe the moon didn't shine upon it in fear that it would break, from sheer terror at what it might convey. But that was doubtful, for a face such as hers was never one to be hidden from the world.
What did they think, as the world reigned fire and blood and a devil in the guise of an angel? Did they plead for mercy from their gods, did they cry for mercy from her? Was their last sight on earth that of a human woman, driven by love and madness, or perhaps an angel of death punishing them for sins as long back as their ancestors, or possible even they saw a demons laughing face as they were washed in their own blood.
And still that damned smile was always in place. How could it not be. That was her only mask. The only form of protection the woman had. For even the coldest of hearts needed protection, needed reassurance that it too was alive and beating. Because she wasn't truly a woman, only a child afraid of being hurt, trying to protect the only thing that mattered to it, in the worst of ways possible. And maybe that made her act so much more innocent, and equally more painful to realize.
And now you have to question, were her actions not your fault. After all she'd only done it for you, to keep you safe, to keep your hands clean of the vengeance you'd once so wanted to color them with. Did she not sacrifice herself for sins that shouldn't have been hers to commit? Were her actions not the ones you yourself had wanted to do, had dreamed of and planned for years.
Now while you look upon her, fear etching on your features, for actions that won't be taken again, you find yourself as frozen as the smile lingering on her lips. Maybe this is wrong, maybe this is broken and those sins on her hands, the blood and lives and true madness, are yours. That scares you even more than the eyes that look upon you with pain and resignation. The ones that saw the fire burn upon bodies of people, saw the floor bleed and the walls scream, and had looked upon it all as though it were nothing more than another chore to be done.
She'd taken your vengeance, but you were still the one with the sins on your soul. For your the one who'd truly wanted it to be done, you're the one who pleaded without even knowing it. The smile was a broken guard and the cold eyes were nothing more than distant memories as she looks upon you now.
Take her hand, you fool, take her hand, ease the pain and take away the pain. The voice inside your head, the one you've always ignored, screams to you. But you ignore it, and stand there, just watching as she stands there waiting. She'll be gone soon, you know, and maybe you want that, but the ache deep inside your stomach at the thought makes you sick and you know if you spend one more day ignoring her and all that had happened, like you two had once done in distant days, then you will lose her for good. This is the last day, though she'd said that before you know it's true this time, as she hasn't said it now, she hasn't said anything in fact.
When she'd come knocking on the door, you'd known it was her, just like those days before. But unlike before you'd gotten out of the corner you'd taken to hiding in and had opened the door. You'd let her in, and now stood in the shadow of once was your small entryway. She hadn't taken her shoes off, you had vaguely noticed as you stared at her.
While she made no move towards you, or towards the door, she also said nothing. Only that small smile on her face, while her eyes read of misery. She held nothing in her hands, making them hang at her sides in a sloppy fashion that bespoke her lack of sleep. Her clothes were pristine, neat, lady-like – modest. You'd always found that funny, her tendency towards modesty when she was truly the furthest thing from it.
But there was no humor in the eyes, in the oddly pale complexion and the silence that spilled forth like tears. There was no sound inside, Nao had taken care of all that could have made it. They stood, literally, in the leftovers of destruction.
Finally she smiled at you, one of those real smiles. Soaked in pain and understanding, tears and love. She smiled and leaned towards you, leaving a deliberate kiss upon your cheek, perhaps just a bit too close to your lips than had been necessary, but rather than be embarrassed your eyes simply widen as you watch her step back and bow to you.
"I'm sorry, Natsuki" Her voice was husky and low, as though trying to hold back. Idly you think it might be anguish, even as she stands straight back up again and turns around. Her hand is on the door before you realize this is it, do or die, and maybe just not figuratively. And the pain from before comes back, that fear from memories and experiences.
You don't want to be alone anymore, you've always been alone it feels like now. And you don't want to trust her, because she's already broken it the first time. But then, it wasn't ever broken completely was it? How could it be, when the actions she'd taken were in your name, for your sake. You don't want that, but looking upon her as her hand is now on the doors knob you know she'll take it all, willingly, for you. You want to be selfish, you want to let her walk away, or let the sins wash away.
That sick feeling comes back and like the ice that had always surrounded you had cracked so does your resolve. The one that said it'd be better if she left, and took all those things you don't want to admit to yourself or anyone else, let alone to the girl about to walk out, was now gone, overpowered by the break in your chest. You felt like doubling over as your chest caves in and your eyes tear up.
Panicking as you see the door opening you try to say something, but you've lost your voice after days of not using it. You've lost your strength too as you slump against the wall, the door is fully open now. You start to slide down, didn't you have legs at on point in time?, and with speed born of unadulterated fear you reach out, hoping to grab something, anything to make her stay.
I hope you liked it, it's the first I've tried to write for this couple. Please let me know what you think. Thank you for your time. *bows* :)