_October Gray_
It's funny, the things we remember over time. The feel of warm, tanned, work-calloused hands on my own, the sound of flighty birds startled from their hiding places by some unseen force. The sound of shallow breathing, the calm before the words we both know brought the end.
The thing I remember the most is the color. The color of your flushed cheekbones as you told me why it was useless. The tinge of pink creeping from behind olive skin betraying your words. The dark, brooding chocolate eyes as their owner whispers harshly, things meant to pain me, for no reason other than to drive me away. Whispering that I don't know what I want, that I'm only a child and I cannot be sure of these things.
The colors blurring together as I fight the tears clouding my vision as I demand to know why. Why you are saying this.
The growing feeling of desperation as I plead, beg with you. I remember the sound of my own voice, cracking, and so close to tears, so close, as I tried to reason with you.
I'm not a child, not really. Four years, that's not much. It will barely matter at all when we're older. I do know what I want, I do! I do! I haven't ever been so sure of anything else in the world, other than the fact that what you are doing now is killing me.
I recall the puff of breath that meant you were sighing, as you pressed your forehead against mine. The faint wetness against my hairline that told me you were closer to crying than me, that you didn't want to do this either, that there was another reason.
But then you pulled away, and the sense of emptiness that throbbed through my chest, my heart, my entire being….. I would rather have died.
It wasn't right, none of it was; you whispered, you were too old, I was too young. You had taken advantage of my curiosity, my innocence, that I would find a nice girl to settle down with in time and would forget all about you. You said it was better if I just forgot.
I wanted to scream and rage and tear your hair out. I would never find a "nice girl" to settle down with. How could I, with the memory of you to compare to it? You had taken advantage of nothing. I wasn't merely curious; I knew that, even if you may not have. I didn't want to forget. Forgetting you would be like forgetting how to breathe.
But I said nothing. I nodded, and remembered the sensation of a single, salty, obvious tear slid down my freckled cheek.
You stopped for a moment, pain in your eyes, you wanted to kiss it away, like you always did, and reassure me that you hadn't meant a word. That you still loved me. And I wished, so frantically, that you would. However, no words were spoken, and neither of us moved for a long time before you whispered.
Good bye. Two tiny words. Two words that brought my world crashing down around my head. I can remember the swish of your cloak as you walked away, away to your infernal, ghostly-looking ship.
I remember the sound of that first choking sob, the one you stiffened at, but otherwise pretended you didn't hear. The feeling of the damp grass soaking through my pants as I collapsed to my knees, disbelieving that it was really happening. The second, body-racking sob cutting through the early morning air. The others that followed, shaking me relentlessly, and the flood of salty tears that refused to end.
The pain cutting through my raw throat as the bawling finally diminished, and I could bring myself to a kneeling position on the ground.
I remember looking up at the sky and promising never to forget any of it, no matter what happened. I remember it had rained, as if the world was crying with me, and the clouds had formed a almost colorless gray blanket over the autumn sky.
I remember that October gray.
A/N: Okay, I'm not sure why I can only write Riktor as sad, but...well, I guess they just seem like the tragic couple to me. 0_0.