Author time! Sooo…this is my first story and I hope you enjoy! Haha…I'm actually trying this out as warm-up before I have to do start on writing my college essays. (Or so I tell my parents whenever they catch me on !). Really…I'm kinda procrastinating xP
Disclaimer: I do not own Black Cat. (though I would love to own the amazing Train Hearnet)
The wind blew and the gentle breeze carried over the smell of hot summer nights. 'Peaches and…a hint of gunpowder', she thought. It caressed her delicate face, whispered through her golden hair, and gave her a sense of peace and comfort--but most of all, nostalgia. Closing her ruby red eyes, she breathed it all in, never wanting to let go of the memories despite their pain.
Standing on the edge of a cliff, she let her arms rise until they were level with her shoulders. Then, without looking down, she jumped.
...
"Eve! C'mon, it's time to wake up!" cried a nervous-looking Sven.
Startled, Eve immediately sat up in her bed. Whether from her dream—the feeling of falling was still fresh in her petrified mind and pounding heart—or Sven's frantic squawking, she was not sure. Nevertheless, she at least pretended to look like she was awake.
"Hurry!" yelled Sven, as he tossed her her white ruffled blouse, gray skirt, and a burgundy cardigan (think of Relena Peacecraft's school uniform but with a gray knee-length skirt o). "You're gonna be late for school!"
Clothes atop her head, she moved them off and checked the clock.
"Sveeeeeeeen," she groaned, "it's only 5:30AM. School doesn't start til 8!"
Sven took one good look at the clock, glared at it menacingly, and then cast it aside.
"Don't worry about the time honey. Just get your uniform on and then head downstairs."
At one point in time, Eve's heart would have done somersaults if she heard Sven call her honey. Lame she knew, but nevertheless, it was a "sweet" and charming word, fitting for a high-school sweetheart or girlfriend. Older now though, at the beautiful age of 17, she had learned something through the years: love may be a single word, but it carries with it varying shades and depths of compassion. To love doraemon was certainly much different than to love Sven. Initially, she thought Sven to be a pervert of some kind, with that outlandish green hair, half-shaven face, and suspicious eye-patch. Eventually though, as he showed her kindness, ice cream (yum!), and the beauty of life around her, she gradually warmed up to him. He had been her savior. Originally, she had confused her gratitude and admiration for him and interpreted her feelings as love—she just didn't know what kind. Once she confessed to Sven though (she still could not believe she had done such a thing), it had a sort of…well…it didn't sound at all like a confession type of sound. The tone of her voice was sincere yet familial, nothing at all how she imagined it to be. She thought it would be more breathy, rushed, and shaking. At that moment, she realized the nature of love and recognized that what she felt for Sven was just a father-daughter relation.
She recalled how Sven reacted and smiled. Sven had indeed not taken her confession to be a confession at all. Like her, he took it as a familial I-love-you. The day after was actually when he obtained the adoptions papers as well, to officially adopt Eve as his daughter.
Thinking about Sven and the past of course…eventually led her to Train. To love Sven was definitely different than to love Trai—she stopped.
'Train…' she thought to herself and sighed.
...
He looked down at her, as if wanting to say something. Eve's gaze, originally turned towards her feet, felt the presence of Train's stare and slowly turned her gaze towards his to meet his golden eyes, a color that reflected the princess's shoulder-length hair. However, before eye contact was established, Train turned around and began to walk away from Eve. At the second step though, he stopped, scratched his head, as if contemplating, and then said what seemed to her was, 'Oh, what the heck.' At that point, he turned around to face Eve once more, a grin on his face. Walking up to her, he lifted her chin up to meet his gaze. Pushing her bangs aside, he softly kissed her forehead and gave her a reassuring smile.
"I don't know when I'll be back but promise me, that when I do get back, you'll have some criminal with a lot of bounty on his head picked out—then we can compete to see who's the better sweeper."
And then…he left.
The wind was blowing and it carried the scent of ripe summer peaches and fresh gunpowder…
Reviews please! Constructive criticisms, compliments, comments would be great o