He wakes up -
There's an odd taste in his mouth, something like dirt and ozone. The feel of worn cards remains in his hands though they clench the earth. A card game, yeah - one that nobody wins. Her hair is red and matted as she checks her cards. 'You overflowed Takkun. I told you it was bad yeah, yeah.' It had been so fuckin' dark.
The sun's going - gone on another day in a place where nothing ever happens. At least he'd like to think so. He isn't sure about this place where the air's so thin no clouds can float, but it's pretty. The sky purple overhead with the dawn at his feet and the sunset at his head. He tries wiggling his toes.
She watches with her cat smug gaze. "Am I dead?" His voice is gone replaced with gravel and sand. Somehow that imagery is calming - Mamimi's head a broken melon on her shoulders. A broken, welling of red as she deals the cards. "Haruka-san, am I dead?" He is answered by something that sounds like… 'tsk'.
He can barely turn his head watching from the corner of his too dry eyes. She's always so cool. 'Stupid.' The lighter flicks again, catches - leaves that much less to breathe. The soil is like ash as he wonders if he always was this pale - worms, grubs. He finds it easier not to breathe.
The cigarette burns weakly as she studies him. "Define 'dead' Takkun. After all, is 'dead' living a hopeless dream or is it dreaming a pointless life? And what's really the difference, huh?" She's still just the same - beautiful, enigmatic, and totally full of it. His lungs are too numb for laughter - so instead he tries a crooked grin.
He's still beautiful even dead and falling asunder. Cataract blue eyes, grave-deep pale skin, and corpse-overlong hair and nails. Still such a serious little man - it's beyond ridiculous. More so even then stealing a body from it's coffin just to have someone to talk to. Watching the smoke of her cigarette coil and sink to the dust-like ground she freely admits it; she's lonely.
It's been so long since there was one who understood, longer still since anyone even tried. 'Besides', she grins eyes like amber, ' his is the only one that works -' His precious little empty head. She drops the cancer stick watching its stately float to the earth beneath his massive heel. Her face pulls into a fucking farce of a snake's grin.
"He's still out there you know? I still haven't caught him." It's hard not to sound bitter, because she almost had him. Thanks, no thanks to Takkun. Still she smiles; that's half the fun - the chase is. She watches his clouded eyes dilate wondering what he sees now.
Her face isn't even remotely human anymore; it's so much better to his jaundiced eyes - all weird angles and paradoxical planes. Like seeing her though the eyes of a drunk, of a man drowning - smiling he is dizzily, "you're just like him aren't you?" It's so obvious now. Spinning, he can feel the relative rotation; a great roiling beast upon whose breast he lays. Eyes tearing with the speed he turns, but he feels like he's managed a breakthrough. Like a half-remembered television special - a pair of birds and they're the only one's left, but the eggs won't come so they're going to die out… While all the scientists watch. "Haruka, is it suppose to hurt?"
The cigarette is the only thing to be seen - it's dark in the shadow of the blue planet above them. A total eclipse. It's okay he's use to the dark, he just wishes he knew where the time has gone - the dawn's so far away. "It's okay. You'll get used to it." Blinking in confusion only to realize that it's the answer to his question. Forgetting not to breathe as he wonders how long it's been since he needed or cared to know.
Shadows across his face as his hands obscure the glow she emits. The planet spins like his thoughts wondering what Bushy Brows saw, what he knew. Smiling at him as she reads his mind - sharp, so very many teeth. His hand clutchs the damp soil, feeling it slowly dampen as though someone has left the tap on, running down the stairs. That's how they found them. "What are you thinking Takkun?"
She waits just inside his head, wasp woman picking at the dead flesh making it's self a house. They're on her moped, her Vespa. It's orange from the reflection of the phenomenon below them. A sun spilling it's innards into space. A perfect cube unlike his shoddy cell, his shoddy coffin his stupid shoddy life! "I'm tired - it feels like nothing." A cigarette with 'never knows best' written on it. Turns out that was just part of a torn out page from a slim, blue diary.
"Like nothing - isn't it suppose to hurt?" Mumbles this into her leather skin as her guitar vibrates to the scream of a dying star. Unimaginable to take so long to die and yet - "They took my guitar." They took his guitar or maybe he burnt it. Her's presses into him because he's trying to get closer still refusing to let go.
Got away again a distant comet amid the geometric allegory above them. So many planets and moons so close together gravity has become a visible rainbow of grays. He can't see it though he remains amazed - eyes as white as his hair; skin as black as the space around them. Haruko, who is that? "It's late." It's been a long road and it's only getting longer.
He wakes up.
- to the sound of a guitar.