a l e x i t h y m i a
Nothing comes of nothing.
- Shakespeare.
x.
He's grounded, comparable to the earth; held down like an anchor by gravity's insistant pull. Perhaps he moves with the wind with beautiful music and dancing petals, but he isn't free like the sparrows that flutter overhead or the uncaring koi fish swimming back and forth. The direction he's travelling in is one that is everlasting, for he cannot die. No matter how much blood he loses, no matter how agonising any pain may be, he will live on.
"Being immortal is a curse," he murmurs to himself, his quiet, monotonous voice mingling with the air, and the sound losing itself into the sky. He recalls having spoken the very same words a dozen times before during battles and even on warm summer days that shouldn't have been wasted on melancholy and jaded thoughts.
But he is a forever jaded person and it even displays its deceptive demeanour openly through monochromatic eyes. He was unsurprised that nobody met his eyes; they didn't want to face the nothingness that lingered within the depths of dull brown.
Except for her.
A strange, lovely creature who was too innocent and too naive to be like him, who danced beneath showers of sakura trees and followed delicate butterflies through winding forest trails that lead to nowhere. She appeared to be the most free of all of them, despite being territory that was exchanged between him and his brother previously, with a constant gentle smile on her lips that she bestowed upon everyone, even the undeserving. Even him.
The silly, oblivious girl thread their fingers together and tugged him insistently through gardens that he had seen before but never in the same light. When he was with her, when she was with him, he saw everything how she did. He was astonished to find that she didn't look at the world through rose tinted glasses, but just saw the darkness in everything and accepted it for it; she claimed that things were all the more beautiful when yin and yang incorporated its being.
"But you're only good," he breathed softly, voice betraying nothing that he didn't want to possess; such feelings were for humans, not for personifications that represented those terribly flawed creatures that were never as bad as they were.
Her resonating smile, full of light and optimistic metaphors, softened into a poignant one. "Don't be silly, Kiku," she whispered, dark eyes glimmering despite being under the shade of swaying plum blossom trees, their blooming hinting at the early signs of spring. True to the flowers, the sun was shining faintly in the distance, low in the late afternoon but providing enough warmth and light to brighten the land for miles. Just like her small smile that somehow induced fluttering butterflies in his stomach and a hastened heartbeat that he hoped no one could hear. "Everything that is light also has darkness. Otherwise, how would you recognise the light?"
And it was then Kiku realised that she was not free. She was no different to the rest of them; she was bound by the invisible chains that kept them in tune with their land, the whips of scorn whenever they attacked or were attacked, the requirement to fulfil their statuses of nations or countries or monsters disguised as people.
But although she was as tainted as the rest of them, she shone so much brighter.
She didn't stop smiling because she was aware that nobody else could do what she did. Whilst Kiku slit the throats of traitors and enemies, she smiled at them and honoured the dead with remorseful dances that would never die.
"Kiku, you don't have to use words to tell someone how you feel," she murmured, voice carrying with the descending petals and joining the sounds of wind chimes, crickets and birds overhead. Why was everything about her so beautiful? And yet, why could he never tell her that? "Sometimes, people just know. Sometimes, they don't need to. And sometimes," she said, "you just have to take action."
Kiku knew that he should kiss her now, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he nodded at her, squeezed at their intertwined hands, and silently examined the clueless koi fish, unaware of the churning feelings inside of him.
Mei only smiled.
x.Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I like Japan/Taiwan as well as Greece/Japan, but I somehow feel that Japan would be unable to show his feelings. Perhaps in an ideal, romanticised story determined to end in tragedy or a cliché happy ending, he would. But I just can't picture it. The Japanese hardly ever say "aishiteru", preferring to express their words by saying "suki dayo/suki da" or "suki yo" depending on gender, the latter being for females and the prior being for men. But I couldn't even make Japan say that! Woe is me with my inability to confess, even in fiction~ Japanese plum (ume) blossom prior to cherry blossoms (sakura) and they signify the beginning of spring. Taiwan reminds me of spring, so. =w=; Although this reminds me of Fruits Basket when Hatori and Tohru were interacting... What is it with my adoration for drabbles recently? I can't even