STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIED.
breathe, just breathe.
by: pixie paramount (5/11/2008, 3:32 PM)
Katekyô Hitman Reborn!, Gokudera/Tsuna & the days pass on, barely
Each day passes since than. Slow and awkward, without his presence, that smile, that voice and boy he's depended on for so long.
It's slow and agonizing—since that day, he's become so much like a ghost. Jagged and broken, haunted and glued to the earth, caught and tangled in that invisible string. I can't be with you now; not yet, not now; someday, someday soon.
There is a tiny boy-man in a glass coffin surrounded by, buried in, a bed of flowers—lilacs and white roses, forget-me-nots and chrysanthemums—and with his dead, so did the lives he touched an integrated with. So did the person he used to be.
His skin is water-paper white, stone cold to the touch, and it's like he, too, is made out of glass; delicate and not meant to be touched, coddled or played with—like he's not meant for this earth, not anymore.
And he is. And day by day he thinks, one day, it will just be too much.