Disclaimer:
I believe that I don't need to say this, but BSD does not belong to me except for whatever the hell I came up with.
Also, BSD is already known to be inclusive of dark themes, and that will definitely be applied here. There usually won't be any warnings, so just be careful. Okay? Okay.
—
p1.
(I just realised that Oda's a redhead, but I'm kinda lazy to change it. Also, when there's a p1's written, it usually means that (maybe) there's a part two. If it's a p0, there are usually none.)
"Do you wish to die?"
He looked at me with his brown eyes, and brown hair, and brown everything.
"I don't. I just want to feel alive."
(The night was old, the midnight moon softly gazing upon the empty streets and dark buildings. Up above on a rooftop were the two, and for once, in the serene atmosphere, it felt as if only they both existed and no one else.
The city was dead, and only they remained.)
"Aren't you alive?"
His head tilts.
"Am I?"
(The breeze rustled their features, and a few pieces of the woman's hair fell from her loose bun. His gaze went to them, watching as they swayed back and forth. Even underneath nothing but the small trickle of the moon's light, it seemed to him, that she was still as breathtaking as they first met.)
"Staring now?"
The edges of his lips slowly lifted up into a small, tired smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
"You know it, hm?"
I chuckled at his antics, the quiet laughter echoing throughout the silence.
"Always the charming one, huh?"
(Up above, the clouds wafted in, curling in and around the stream of white that lighted their area. In seconds, their empty world plunged into darkness and she couldn't catch sight of his brown everything anymore.)
"Oda?"
(It was eerily silent, she realises, when he wasn't there. Everything seemingly became so gone, so nothing, when he disappeared from her view and the dark depths replaced him. It reminded her a little too much of the nights she spent wallowing, a little bit too much, and her breaths quicken, until the light returned.)
"Od-"
My head jerked backwards, an act of instict. I stumbled from the sudden movement and as quick as he always was, he grabbed my arm to steady me.
"What, the hell?"
The words fell from my lips in a harsh manner and I looked at his figure, poised in front of me, barely a few centimetres away. The small smile had left his lips, and in its place was a solemn frown.
(The two stared at one another, silent and still. the man stood close to the young woman, so close that she could even hear the ticking of his watch clasped around the wrist. No words were exchanged, just their breaths and their heart beats.)
Minutes passed, and then he blinked. As if he just realised that I was in front of him, and the proximity of our bodies.
"Oi, Oda," I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "Don't tell me you've been doing drugs when I was gone."
His lips twitched and he snorted.
"Not so soon."
His brown eyes, I knew they were, weren't so much of that warm colour beneath the navy skies as they bore into mine. Unlike the soft, tired ones I always saw during the day, they were intense, strong and-
alive.
"You know," he started, almost stretching the words. "I've never understood you."
I raised a brow at that.
"No suprise there. I barely understand myself."
(The two stood there, in each others' warm presence with nothing to communicate but their different souls and old understandings. Together, their ashy pasts intertwined, weaving in and out as the intensity of their odd relationship dawns on the both of them.)
"I've never felt alive either," the words drawled. "I tried to find many things and many people to make me alive, but I couldn't find it."
I didn't blink. He didn't either.
"Until I met him," he continued. "He gave me a purpose; to create a story, a life and write it."
He pondered.
"And the kids too."
His words drifted through the wind, resounding in the thick, deep wonders of my mind. For a few moments, he hesitated, appearing conflicted before he raised his hand, palm open towards me.
"so I thought that if I was able to find the things that made me feel alive and you couldn't-"
His gaze was strong, burning and somehow, it made me feel weak, exposed, naked. At the raw intensity and passion emblazoned in his eyes, I could feel myself nearly trembling and kneeling over.
"I could be the one that makes you feel alive."
(The silent words of promise traveled throughout the night and the woman that stood before him could feel them etched onto her skin and bone. She stared, right into the burning, bright pools of beautiful brown she had ever seen. Her lips curled ever so slightly.)
"Damn Oda. I didn't take you for a smooth-talker," I smiled, a small one.
My hand slipped into his, warmth enveloping my cold. His fingers curled around my smaller ones, and the hold tightened just a little.
His soft lips pulled up into a tired, but serene smile and let both of our hands fall to the side, still clasped together.
"You know me. i'm an aspiring writer. We're good with words."
And that night, with him and me and us, all alone and away from the rest of the city, I laughed.
This time, light and airy and warm.
Because I felt alive.