He was excited.
The leaves have turned a lonely shade of autumn red, but he was still excited.
He raked through the length of his wet hair as he dashed out of their family cottage, into the woods.
It was the day.
He was twelve, and she was twelve. He loved her, she admired him. He knows, she knows.
And so they said it would be today.
He'd been dreaming of her; for days on end he thought he could smell that waft of the scent of wild roses that she brought with her. He thought he could see her bright locks and brilliant, deep, sea blue eyes. He thought, most of all, about feeling her warmth, flesh colliding with flesh.
How he craved.
He said, She's perfect, and in all ways, she was. She was beautiful. She was queer. She had a personality so complex and distinct. She was distant. But she was strong. She was confident. She was the model.
He could imagine… her billowing blue dress down her porcelain legs. Her long, wavy locks of gold that hung down to her waist, hence her nickname 'Goldy-locks.'
How he wished.
But still, he dreamt far too big for his liking. She was the heir and the princess, and here he was, just another lowly, 12-year-old boy.
But they were friends, close enough to be considered siblings. They were together, day and night, all the time.
Inseperable.
But duties come before desires, so they gambled a month for 'eternal togetherness.' Besides, she had to prepare for something she had long wished for.
Her coronation.
But today… was the day.
She dashed to the arranged meeting place, hoping she'll be there in time. Her royal blue dress swayed and tossed around her feet, her jewelry hit her marred skin as she ran. Twigs, sprouting from nowhere, hit and tore her silken dress into tiny shreds. "Kura… pika…" she panted, tired. She was worried; she wanted him to be safe. She stumbled across the rocks, running at a wobbly pace now.
At the meeting place, instead of seeing her favorite golden-haired angel, she saw a tall man with soulless black eyes, donned in a black fur cape. He stared at her with terrifying eyes. Fear crossed her mind and her star-blue eyes flashed scarlet.
The man in front of her grinned, a rather devilish smile on his emotionless face. "Finally."
In a quick move, the tall man got himself an awkwardly shaped knife, and plunged it into her chest.
Her eyes narrowed with the sudden pain, but when she spotted the familiar face between the bushes, she smiled. "Don't worry, angel, I'll always be here for you, if you remember to look back," she mouthed, something her mother taught her but a few hours back. She fell on the ground with a soft thud.
Kurapika's heart beat angry, furious, quick pumps. He couldn't move an inch; he felt like he was pinned to the ground. His palm rested by his chest, and he could feel the angry pumping.
He watched as the figure kneeled by the girl's face, and stood up again. The man looked around once before leaving.
Kurapika looked at the girl. "Wake up, wake up," he said. "Please wake up." Her face wasn't looking at him, so he didn't know what he would see.
Shrugging off his fear, he stood up and crawled away from his hiding face to check on the princess.
Tears flowed down his empty, blank eyes. He cradled the face at his lap, at watered the ground with his tears, mingling with the blood that crept out of everything. He hugged her tight – or, that is, what remained of her.
The warmth had faded.
She was warm, but an icy coldness tingled below her skin. No one needed to tell him, he could figure out on his own she was gone.
Tears flowed quietly, uncontrollably, down his puffy cheeks.
It has been five years, but whenever he drifts away back to his past, he remembers her last words.
Don't worry, angel,
…..
I'll always be here for you,
…..
if you remember to look back…
"Yes," he'd say, with a soft, comforting smile for him alone. "I will always remember to."
He was a lost Romeo, lingering on his fallen Juliet.
A/N: One of those fifteen-minute-crap. I couldn't sleep last night :) Anyway, I was chasing on a plot bunny. Ha-ha-ha.