My darling, this (/… these? If this doesn't burn your eyes out x.) is for you, just to show you how horribly I lose at writing. 3
Kingdom Hearts isn't mine, else… I'd be a lot richer.
---
faith.
So Riku reassured them both with open words, broad acrylic strokes with a wide brush that painted a tomorrow for them all.
hope.
And he wondered during his charcoaled sleepless nights (sometimes, when the shades were pulled crooked and cast slats of moonlight down upon his eyelashes) what the world was like outside of the box, and what possibilities stretched out endlessly before him--- if he could only reach them, slip them in his pocket for another day.
love.
Even sometimes he pondered with a child's naïvette what exactly a paopu tasted like, anyway. With those times came thoughts of the shadows, like watercolours, on his cheeks. His grins and pouts and laughter. And if… his heart hurt anything like his own.
… but the greatest of these…
But rarest of all were those moments when he really wasn't asserted.
And his personalized darkness reared up like spilled ink.