Just a short little drabble. Felt in the mood for an Itasaku thing. XD
Green eyes search dark ones, seeking, piercing. Darkness settles softly around the two figures, a blanket of seductive warmth.
A light touch on his arm awakens him from his momentary trance, his eyes flitting to the slender fingers resting on the black material of his clothes. Then, again, their eyes meet, gazes locking.
This pain of letting go…
She sighs, that same tired sigh that causes a curious little stirring inside of him, each and every time it falls from her parted lips. Her gaze falls; vivid green eyes are veiled by delicate lashes.
A pregnant silence ensues, each quiet, waiting for the words to come. But somehow, as it always seems, they don't.
Minutes tick by, marked by the slow beating of their hearts. Still, they wait, the feeling constricting their lungs, suffocating them, stifling the very air.
She gulps, her swallowing thick and painful, heart hitching uncomfortably in her ribcage.
"When?"
The word ripples through the air, sending invisible shivers cascading down his back. He averts his gaze, head tilting upwards. Long shadows hang from the ceiling, folded wings of darkness.
"Tonight…"
A trail of uncertainty follows, and for once, his words aren't punctuated by their usual crispness. She nods, the tiniest jerk of her neck, and her eyes cloud with some undefined emotion.
Has it come already…?
Before he can stop himself, his hand extends, a silent invitation. She looks up, a little startled – then the surprise melts into a calm knowing, and she accepts. Palms meet in an intimate embrace.
Green eyes close, lashes fanning out. A quiet murmur falls from her lips.
"Why…?"
He smirks wryly. Their fingers intertwine.
The same question had been asked a million times before. And the same answer always followed…
"Because…I have to."
His voice is quiet, almost meek, as if trying not to anger her. Somehow, even to him, the words sound dead, meaningless – so very ridiculous.
Why did he even bother to say them?
Because there was nothing else to fill the silent aching.
But she is not angry, and her pale face does not grow livid, nor contort into a bitter expression as it usually does. Perhaps she is too tired to. Too used to the words for them to stir any reaction.
Instead, she breathes that curious little sigh of hers again, a silent stream of air, gliding through the darkness.
"You always say that," she says softly, a little accusingly, but with a touch of unmistakable fondness. Her eyes are still closed, and suddenly she leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder. At first he stiffens, then relaxes, tentatively putting his arms around her slim frame.
"What else am I supposed to say?" he replies calmly.
She knows the truth in those words; it is clear to her, to both of them. But still, it hurts.
Instead of answering his question, she only presses harder, leaning more of her weight against him, fingers squeezing his, almost desperately. He responds, his grasp around her tightening, possessive.
She stands there, listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing the feeling, hoping foolishly that it wouldn't end.
How many times had she uttered that very same prayer?
Because she is scared of what will happen when it does end– she knows so painfully well what will happen – when she will be left with nothing but that deep, devouring, aching void.
Her body is suddenly trembling uncontrollably. Was it the darkness that made her quake? The cold? Or fear?
Fear? Of what?...
But she only knew to well.
Fear of him.
Of the things he could do to her, without even trying or meaning to. He could tear her apart, inside out, without laying a finger on her – through his eyes alone. Those eyes that sent a shiver scurrying down her spine every single time she thought of them. Like now.
"Why…?" she whispers again into the folds of his cloak, her voice muffled. She does not expect an answer, but merely asks the question for lack of nothing better to say.
She hopes that he does not hear the thick tears mingled in her voice.
He does, but he pretends not to, knowing how very hard she is trying to suppress those tears. His hands act on their own accord, and he finds himself stroking her silky hair, fingering the pale pink tresses.
And suddenly she cannot hold it in any longer – the pressure boiling inside of her is killing her slowly, softly…
So she cries. Quietly, but as bitterly as bitter can be. He feels the hot tears seeping through his clothes, tickling his skin and burning it like acid. Breathing in deeply, the scent of salt and pain fills his lungs. He breathes in deeper, as if in doing so, he can alleviate her pain. Slowly, as she sobs, he lifts her into his lap.
The sound of crying is his only lullaby…
She falls asleep that way, curled in his lap, her beautiful face streaked with tears. It is a restless sleep, but a sleep nonetheless.
He watches her in the darkness, the shadow of a sad smile tugging on his lips, her brows creased in a dreamless slumber. Quietly, he leans over, his eyes wandering over her features. And then his lips rest on her cool forehead, lightly, and only for a moment – but she feels it.
It's time…
Cautiously, tenderly, he sets her down, his fingers lingering. One last glance, one last touch…
He crouches besides her, watching her breathe, her lashes quivering just slightly – and then, gracefully, he stands to his full height, black cloak billowing about him in a silky pool of obsidian.
Purposefully, slowly, half reluctantly, he strides towards the door; his sandaled feet quiet.
His hand rests on the doorknob. A twinge of hesitance runs through him, and he pauses.
Should I?
And then his hand grips the doorknob, determined, knuckles blanched white. He slips through, his body as fluid as water.
…And he feels the sad gaze of green eyes on his back…
This pain of letting go…
End
Wow, my first one-shot! Kinda fun...>.>;;
Anyways...pretty sucky. Ah well.