Haru was really fun to write. And it's been a while since I've written something that wasn't a request piece. Sorry if it's a bit jumbled, this story reflects my mind after too many tests. But, any way, please enjoy!
Paring - KyokoHaru. Prompt - time
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1. It starts off as a simple brush, a fading fingertip on smooth tanned skin as if by accident, and it is for now. Haru asks for a dish towel and Kyoko smiles in the way that Haru is so used to these days, sad, forced, and longing. Haru wants to help, do something to bring a sun smile, not a clouded memory of one. But her fingers linger for no longer than the clocks perpetual ticking will allow and for now that's all they can do.
2. They are so breakable, these humans, these human hearts. Haru picks up a knife of liquid silver that bleeds a metallic reflection into the cutting board and the orange of the carrot that she slices in accordance with a quiet ticking. Time's soft metronome drives her on in continuous motion and swirling thought. She too is human of course but at this time that though does not join the others that loop in her mind.
Kyoko's sleeping now, has been sleeping for so long that Haru dreams of fairytale and awakening kisses from princes who will slay dragons and daemons, chase away the night and it's illusions, and ride away on white horses into the bloody hued world of sunset. Haru is no prince. A sharp cry comes from the room and it takes Haru a heart beat before she realizes it is her own. She gazes lightly at the gash on her fingertip where life beads and bubbles only to fall, slowly yet quickly all the same, down onto the pale cutting board where the black handled knife rests. It's like in Snow White she thinks in passing.
Except Haru knows that Kyoko will not be sleeping and as such no mere kiss will ever draw away all the poison from her heart. But Haru can try...
3. Time seems to pass so fast here and yet not at all, a second and a minute being the same as an hour and a day, a sea of continuity in a broken world. Haru lightly strokes Kyoko's hair, touches her silk skin and drapes a arm around her in a wish to protect. Sticky trails shimmer like the fall of moonlit sand trapped in gold bottle glass on Kyoko's cheeks. Haru want to brush them away, but they are ghost paths and though her thumb glides lightly it does not erase, merely scatters diamonds that settle and will forever stay through the night.
Haru has always been strong, never normal no, but always strong. She has never had to share her strength, never had anyone to share her strength with. But now with her honey haired angel in her arms she can only wish to be her strength, to fight for her. She wants to protect her smile while it hasn't been forgotten, hasn't slipped away in this timeless current.
So, with a feather light touch, as if Kyoko is a porcelain doll who will break in to nothing but the liquid drips of bottle glass time, Haru leans down and presses her lips to the corner of Kyoko's eye and slowly traces crystalline paths onto cream skin.
She hopes this is enough.
Because it will have to be.