Flicker, a victorious fanfic

For a fleeting moment, you feel twilight lick at your face and then a cold biting kiss on your lips.

She comes at night along with the chill of the breeze from the window. You open your eyes and see her smiling down at you. You know she would come and you let the windows open so that she could creep in.

Twilight never comes and you're stuck hoping for the sun but at the same time you hope that she would come even when it's her that pushes the light back down. That's the reason she comes anyway—to keep the light out, take it with her, and to keep you wishing, longing for her. Soon the light forgets you and you wait again.

Sometimes you get up, feel the cold floor then the wet grass under your feet, feel the air whip at your hair and the trees by your window, looking for the light yourself. Sometimes you find a flicker but you did not find any this time.

There are times when other people join you with their own darkness, their own night. They talk with you but some just pass by, glancing at you only once. Those you stay a little bit longer, those you know are waiting, looking for their sunrise, eventually leave and forget about you—nobody likes to remember the dark even if shadows still follow. You, you have no shadows, you're already swimming in it. You know it's bad but you want them to come back into the shadows with you and never get back but that never happens anyway. You always end up being alone in there.

Around people you act as if the sun doesn't set, that the night never comes for you, like it's always the morning or noon and they look at you puzzled. They think you're weird but you're the one laughing at them—they're the ones who don't know that it's still night time. Sometimes—always sometimes—you let yourself slip about the darkness but nobody even notices so you go back pretending about the daylight.

You know you've cracked but at least you're not crumbling outside, at least you're not stripped bare and in pieces for everyone to look at, pity or no.

It's really hard, pretending, and you know you can't keep it together if not for the stars that twinkle above you ever so faintly behind the clouds. They remind you that the light will still come, like it's something you can reach out and touch.

How did you get in the dark anyway? You smile. It wasn't always like that, she wasn't always like that—she didn't have claws that carve you out of your skin, or a wicked smile dripping with venom.

You curl beside her and she holds your hand tightly, almost never letting go. The sun is high above, reddish light tangling in her hair through autumn leaves as she smiles, watching the pond ripple under her fingers. You talk about puppies, bunnies, kittens and how you like hugging them and she talks about getting them for you when both of you are ready to run away. You blush and she smiles, giggling as she splashes you with pond water. You splash back and she's kissing you and you taste the pond water on her lips. You pull back, fingers tangled in her sundress, and you tell her that she tastes like little fishies and the aquarium, and she giggles again. You like hearing her laugh but you like kissing her better. You pull her into another kiss.

She showered you with so much light, much more than you ever felt in your life, until you were blinded. She told you about forever and love. You should've know that things as great as this one never last and are bound to be crushed like she did you.

You don't know why, you still don't know why she just turned around and never took your hand anymore. She told you she got tired of it and that it was just a stupid game. Your heart broke—she broke it—but you don't believe her even if you're in pieces. You know she's lying but sometimes you just want to believe her because it's easier to hate her than be hurting, than being stuck in that dark place. But you can't bring yourself to hate her when your pieces still cry for her, when each part of you misses her—that's why you leave the window open, yourself open for her to come in.

Your pieces tell you not to but you still forced you way to moving on, walking towards a crack of light, back when the dusk and dawn still came and meld together. You don't remember whose hand you took—you'd take anyone's if they offered. That made you happy, feeling someone hold your hand, and forget for a while—it really did. But they leave eventually—she takes them away. You don't ask why—she would lie anyway.

You felt a strong light once and it almost peeled back the darkness and you almost didn't have to pretend anymore...almost. He took your hand and all your pain even when he knew nothing, even when you refused to tell him anything about it. He just shared the pain until his soft hands and warm kisses masked it. He was so kind and became your best friend too. He didn't judge you with the things that bubble up your mouth. It's almost like he understood. He would pat your head—it wasn't red before—and called you kitty-cat. Your heart fluttered every time he did that. You knew you were falling hard for him and you almost forgot about her until she came rushing through that window, prying of the light.

You see red swirling down the sink and you can't feel anything as your wash out excess dye from your hair. You wish you can feel the cold biting at the back of your head so that maybe it can replace the pain you feel nowhere near the surface. The red stops flowing with the water and you look up, scarlet strand of hair spill on your face in the mirror. You smile seeing for the first time her smile on your lips, cruel and cracking at the seams.

You look up the window and she's there again, perched on the frame looking down on you, legs dangling by the vines. You can feel wet grass sticking on the soles of your feet.

She took him and made him her own until everyone forgot that you were his and he, yours. Anyone would tell you to let yourself be angry—it's okay to be angry—but you can't. You just can't because he's not enough to be angry at her now that you've forgotten about him and the way you felt with him and because he already forgot about you too. You can never forget her and you will always forgive her—you will always yearn for her.

You're crying on your knees, drenched in the rain. She's standing in front of you, looking down again, giving you a cold stare, colder than the gust of wind and the rain. You're begging her but you don't remember what it is you are begging for—to give him back or to come back. You can't feel your fingers, your lips, your knees and the rain keeps pouring and she's there watching you.

The wind blows and you're in your room again and she's there, standing by the window. You smile but inside you wonder why she's there because it's not like some light is hovering. Did she feel, know that you were out looking, blades of grass on your skin?

Of course she knows everything about you still—where to touch, what to say. You tell it's okay to be wrapped around her finger because, at least, you are—in a way—with her.

She kisses you and the darkness blots out the stars, even the moon behind the thick clouds. It's almost pitch-black but you don't care because she's here, touching you, whispering things you know you should be horrified at—you tell yourself she's lying again. You feel the wind cut at your skin as you're stripped bare, her hands cold, burning your skin.

You let the darkness swallow you until all you can see is her eyes, green and piercing—your only flickering light left.

A.N.: This the first one-shot I finished and I feel kind of raw.. I don't know why I just said that; anyway, I hope this didn't come out as too cheesy and vague (I've been reading a lot of vague stuff lately) and cliché.

Please review and feel free to tell me off (but no slaughtering please).