A/N: This story is completely random. I have no idea why I even uploaded it. Its just something I wrote out one day. No flames, please :O I'll probably delete it later. Unless I get a review that somebody actually likes it XD. Yeah.
Completely Raw. About Gokudera.
-- -- --
As all good things; it all comes to an end like faded dust
xxxxxxxxxx
Once upon a time in a not so magical world, there lived a boy and his dog and his piano and a beautiful girl.
Now, while this may seem as a fairytale, with ringing notes and laughs and smiles, the world isn't beautiful, and they stay inside this room with no windows and no sunlight, savoring their own handmade warmth.
One day, the boy turned and frowned to the girl and his dog, "I want to go outside," he said.
"Oh, but you must never go outside!" The white dog growled, and while it may seem that it is quite amazing that this dog could talk, it really wasn't.
"Yes, yes," The girl said. "Its dangerous!"
"But," he whined, "How could it be dangerous? How would you know?"
She pales & frowns. "This," she says, eyes wondering from him to the dog and the piano and then finally lays on him, "is the only sunshine the world has."
The boy grunted and proceeded to play the piano, long & pale fingers firmly on the keys.
-...-
One day, the boy decided to disobey his mothers warning and opened the door.
"Don't," the dog growled, claws bearing, "you dare."
He smiled, not so apologetically than triumphant.
He goes outside and the first thing that happens is smoke. Smoke- and there's so much of it that it cloggs his lungs and chokes him. He's all the sudden wary, now. Maybe he shouldn't come outside. Maybe his mother was right.
Eyes drifting he sees a street and people- so many faces and names and times and lives.
And nobody stops for him. They continue, whether forward or backward.
-...-
It's rough, at first, trying to get used to this new world. He reeks of smoke and a thousand notes remembered by hands and warm green eyes.
He trips a lot- no matter how graceful he is. He scraps his knee and gets up, glaring at no one in particular, no one but the world.
He steps into a bar, later, and here's the saccharine soprano of an Italian singer, and its so sweet and real. He looks at his long, pale fingers and wonders if he is not.
-...-
He comes back. She is gone and the dog is dead and the piano is still there and there is-
s m o k e.
-...-
He's older. He's stronger smarter faster and he is alive and he's with someone he can always always always trust with his life, someone who is above his life and this is his last chance, his last life his hope his sanity his
life.
And this is all he has. He doesn't need the sun because now he has, no it has him, the
s k y.
xxxxxx
(but somewhere along, he dreams of a time long ago, with a snowy white dog and grand piano and a beautiful woman whose laugh reminded him of the ringing of bells.)