disclaimer: i own nothing.
a/n: i don't know.
. . .
There is glitter in his eyes.
(No, not his glasses. But his eyes.)
Standing tall, straight and confident, she feels that he overwhelms her just by a glance of him alone. And maybe that's really what he is doing to her now (even though he's not even looking at her, really).
Red bleeds and blends with the orange, yellow, purple, pink, blue—absolutely astounding, she thinks— and she would admire it endlessly if not for him there. He's much better to see than the view (which defeats the whole purpose of coming here, she knows, but she just can't help it).
"Hey, Kimi,"
His hair is as orange as the sky.
"Hm?" She stares and admires him too much, not a surprise if he knows this habit of hers (it's not bad—addicting, true—but not bad).
And sometimes she looks at the mirror and wonders if she does deserve Nishiki Nishio—sharp-tounged, brilliant, flawed yet flawless—because she's just her, Nishino Kimi, the plain and bland and lifeless.
(She also has nothing. Nothing at all.)
"The ocean. It should stretch wider—become bigger."
His glasses are glinting.
"And why's that?"
His lips curl upwards into something sharp and bitter, voice twisting and burning like acid. At these times, she wants to reach out and tell him it's okay, it's fine, it's okay like how a decade year old radio—battered and bruised—would repeat itself.
At these times, it almost seems like he's weeping.
"So it can get rid of everyone. Swallow everything up."
She hums in reply—not truly an answer but an answer nonetheless because what can she say?—and he stays silent (with her still watching him).
The sun sets shortly after.
In the end, the glitter in his eyes die away.
(It scares her, she admits, because it's remorseless and freezing that she finds herself drowning in them, barely able to breathe at all.)
. . .
—end—
