Ahhh... why are all my fics nowadays so sad? TT^TT
Oh yea, this once used to be MW, but the name changed!
I should be doing my Math homework, now. What the fish is Euler's number, anyway?
Another one-shot, inspired by 1925, Gallows Bell, Delusional Sketch and standing in the rain. :D
It's really awesome to stand in the rain (a light drizzle, rather) and simply watch, wait. (Even tho I got a slight cold later... ; - ; )
I owe Miku and Len a happy fic. About Jar of Hearts... well, I'll try to update it as soon as possible...
Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid! :)
Faded grey clouds that were the tapestry of her fears. Worrying her leathery heart as the threads spun out, hands that ached with longing to grip onto him. It evolved into a mash of dust and droplets, beating against her cracked skin. Lies that were printed in black and white were creased in her hands. They chanted in reverie around her mind, delving into the holes of her bones. She can feel it. Lies, lies, nothing much to be trusted. She ripped them mercilessly into shreds, her nails digging into her palms, sweaty and cold.
Can this be true?
The echoed howls of those words (repeated much in a monotonous manner) drive her over, edging nearer the edge of breaking. The school band strikes a few notes, the bass ringing out a thudding murmur. In sadistic humour, the rain drops follow the beating of the drums, the flurry of crystals streaking across the monochromatic world. They feel light against her skin, yet carrying a heavy burden. She can taste the salt within them. Messengers that travel across the globe to spread the news, in despair and yet hope. Faltered, the greater good is saved and sacrifices are written off in their glee.
They twirl about in sheer happiness at the sharp shrieking of her heart, torn into pieces.
Whimpers that escape from her patched-up lips- they have cracked and bruised, what with numerous mutterings of prayers and the soundless clashing of her teeth against those pillow-like buds- rocks they with delight. The stitches are loosening, disintegrating her senses along with the wind. Blood red, they are poised with elegance, flying high in the wind.
Just like a flag.
Just like the flag.
"The heroes who have perished at the front line..." her wrecking sobs have tuned out every sound that disgustingly projects from that radio.
She stands in the comforting arms of her own despair. Those arms are wrapped tightly around herself as the refusal to believe in the truth gives her courage and faith. She glances up just in time to see their country flag waltzing from side to side in mock-mourning.
The eyes, pregnant with tears, narrow slightly.
That darned flag. Hate ripples in her blood, bubbling at the base of her throat. It forms a pulsing ball of fury, heat encasing her tears. It showers gasoline at her core, sprinkling salt onto the wound. It burns. The letter is smudged, but she still posts it, without fail, to him. No replies arrive. She posts some more, insisting that he is still alive. He has to be alive. Those lies will never corrupt her faith. Lies, lies!
The murmurs of her neighbours, she hears loud and clear. They whisper in pity, hypocrites, the lot of them. Gazes are averted once she meets their eyes, brimming over with curiousity. She giggles, though her eyes are wide open- should she close them, will they see her dissipating hope? No, she will face up to the challenge. Wider, open wider. That'll show them the truth, the whole truth. That black inky liquid will never stain her pure hope. She lifts a hand to wave, showing more of her pale complexion. Feel guilt, be swallowed by it, she thinks to herself musingly. Stop spreading those lies. See what they do to me- nothing. There are no scars at all. Nothing. Just-just stop.
Is she pleading?
Perhaps.
The parapet is wet, her tears or the rain? Her tears. In fact, she is crying with tears of joy. He has returned. He will return, clutching onto her letters with a goofy grin. The ones that she used to miss so much. He will kneel down and litter her fingers with kisses, producing a rare flower that took him too much time to find. Such that he couldn't answer her letters? No, it will be because he wants to test her loyalty. She will pout, only to have his finger slide over them casually and wink cheekily.
No.
What no?
He's gone. You-
Stop those lies, you know how-
He's dead. He's gone. You know that too.
I'm not listening.
He won't come back. He already-
S-shut up! Y-you, I've had enough of those lies. Pathetic, they don't affect me at all!
What, pray tell me, are those mutilations that you've done to your arms? Those nails that scrape over and over against your smooth skin? The disheveled hair that you haven't combed in ages?
"SHUT UP! I'M TELLING YOU, THEY'RE JUST LIES, LIES, THE WHOLE LOT OF THEM!"
She stumbles and falls to her knees. Her dignity, her love, she clutches tightly onto the hems of their shirts in an attempt. Yet his fingers grace her face, lovingly and gingerly. He is afraid to break her. She has suffered too much, like a porcelain doll. Brittle and hollowed. The eyes, they have lost the radiance that once sparkled in them. She is feeding herself with meaningless hopes, faith. Fear seizes her as she clasps onto anything desperately.
The memory, it comes sailing back to her.
"Miku, I need to leave," Len grins, his fingers reluctantly untangling with hers.
She is alarmed, using another hand to grab onto his wrist. Her eyes are pleading, yet filled with sleep. They had this discussion before, and the result was unanimous, wasn't it? His blonde fringe that got in the way, she brushed them away, peering deep into those orbs, pools of emotions. He reaches to pat her head, stuck in an internal struggle.
"No... it's dangerous..." Miku tries arguing.
"It'll be over soon. We're fighting against invaders. Can you bear to see everyone dying at the hands of our enemies?" Len retorts gently.
"I don't want to see you die," Miku begs.
"Miku. I won't die, I'll be back in time, okay?" Irritation creeps up the back of his throat, but he gives her a small peck on the cheek.
"Promise..." her voice is trailing away; she is falling back into her slumber once more.
He chuckles at her nervousness, and hooks pinkies with her. "Promise."
Promises. He promised her. Trust snapped, splintered into many fragments. She tries to pick them up, but they prick her fingers with realisation. She still remembers his eyes, full of determination and patriotism. Len never fails to keep his promises. Betrayal, it delivers a blow to her face, stinging and fast. She picks herself up, staggering. She will not believe. Her hands rush up to fix the holes, covering them up with more patches of cloth. Len must not see her like this.
She doesn't want his electrifying eyes to question her with worry and anxiety. He must not see the weary soul beneath that mask of joy. Love, what has happened to you? He might ask, kissing over her scars.
She must believe.
Reality, it will crash upon her body in waves.
Truth, will be hard to accept.
He's dead.
How she wishes to see his face once more. To capture the perfectly-shaped lips, thin eyebrows that wagged mischievously and his eyes that glittered with love. She will have time to drown in them, when she meets him in another world. The rain pierces at her fractured soul. Glancing down at the ground, the bell tolls again ominously. It signals her death. He is just below, hands spread out as he nods encouragingly. Jump, come on, I'll catch you! A shaky intake of breath as she takes a leap of faith.
blackout.
"Miku?"
"I knew I'd see you here."
"Idiot!"
"Yep, but I'm your idiot."
They cry in bliss. Finally reunited, as their bodies fitted intricately like a puzzle piece.
Actually, I was considering making Miku a mom.
But that woulda been quite evil. Len the junior? Haha. SHOTA! ... awkward silence.
I changed my name to Splintered Rainbows because... I felt like it? :D
SR ^^ ;;