Sorcha
a/n: started as part of another peice, but i think it makes a perfect one-shot. she's hikari, everything else is up to you. first fic. be nice.
disclaimer: not mine.
***
The gentle wind weaved around the loose fabric of her clothes, the delicate colors billowed like pastel clouds, and my fingers ache to touch their flocculent beauty, but they are as unreachable as if they were truly hung in the sky.
"I miss him so much it feels like I'm empty, hollow...alone." She gives a weak smile, but it hurts me more then the pained expression she wore before, it didn't reach her eyes the way it's supposed to, how they should light up and shine with delight. Instead the mahogany depths held an anguish of loss so profound it was beyond me to comfort. "I miss him." Then the barriers broke and she fell against me, broken. Words began, then died on her tongue and I only heard strangled sobs.
"Shhh..." I murmur, holding, rocking, just holding and rocking. Cold tears seeped through the thin cloth of my shirt, freezing my side like ice. "Hush...please...'s alright...it'll be alright..." I whisper words without meaning, she doesn't even hear them I think. But they are soft and gentle on her like fine silver, it doesn't matter what I say, it doesn't matter if she hears them, only that she feels them.
"Sorry, sorry...Oh God, I'm so sorry." Hiccuping sobs erupt from her and she cries harder, trying to stop, trying to apologize. That's a lie though. She doesn't want to apologize. I know I' being used, I don't care. The hard bench beneath us is rotted and rusted, wise in it's age. The crisp autum air cuts, but with the passion of winter.
Her shaking, shivering form is molded against my side in a way that seems so right and so wrong. And I'm horrified and facinated all at once as I stare at the loose feather-soft hair that the wind tugs and pulls, dancing with it on the cutting crisp autum air in a captivating dance. Jewled leaves of blazing hues fall around us, on us, mixing in her swirling hair, catching in the folds of our clothes.
"Hush." I say against her hair. Her chest stops heaving and only a silent teardrop makes its solitary path down the velvety skin of her cheek. The sun sets behind us, basking our bodies in the fiery golds, darkening red and glowing roses of dusk. In stillness we watch our growing shadows on the hard concrete before us, tall and imposing, but just as lost.
"Thank you." Came the whisper.
"For what?" Went my reply, sad and calm.
"For you. For whatever."
"Do I deserve that?"
"Always and never." She smiles, this time with her eyes and we sink back into silence. I gaze down at her, just to see if she's crying, just to see... She's curled up against me, her arms laid across her lap and her feet pulled up under her. Her eyes are red with salty tears, beautiful and terrible in their unnatural pain. The lines on her face are worn and tragic, eyes that didn't belong there, eyes that were too old, too dead. The breeze had long left us, her hair fell limp now, though still mixed with fallen leaves. She look like a spirit there, next to me, mythical and ghostly, angelic in her fairy child-like beauty. Then a dryad she looks like, with her sacred leaves and old eyes. I don't understand. Not her, not this, but I don't care. She chose me to use, to manipulate, needing the warmths she stole from me, the compassion that she robbed me of.
"I'm sorry." I finally breathe into her hair as she sleeps beside me
in the growing night. I lean back against the pealing paint and the faint
crakle of dry leaves and turn my face to the stars, the glittering lights
sparkle in a way that seems magical and clear. Bright as I have never seen
them, never thought they could be.
fin.