(inverse)
don't you let me go, let me go, tonight
The world around them is crumbling. At the very center of the dust and stone, the two dragons are battling, fire and lightning flying through in the air in brilliant, streaking jets like shooting stars, crashing into the walls and gouging out chunks of inlaid marble, sending debris flying over their heads.
N
(the boy with the green hair and the smile that could light up the world; her world)
is facing off from her, his cube battered and chipped. There is soot and ash staining his white dress shirt, as well as a thick cut on his cheek leaking blood, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes, once a radiant emerald green, are now a cold, draconic icy blue, his irises flickering in between the two shades rapidly like the slides of a film reel. His hands are bunched into fists.
"Fusion Flare!" he shouts, and Reshiram obeys its Trainer's command by drawing in a deep breath, scorching wind gathering and coalescing into a singularity, which then expands into a bulbous, writhing orb of flame, so bright that it blinds her and so hot that her skin blisters and flakes, seared red. She screams, but the physical pain is no match for the deep, throbbing ache within her chest. It feels like she will explode.
"Stop it, N!" she screams. The ceiling is collapsing above them, but neither of them pay attention to this, N's eyes narrowing to slits as he glares at her.
"You don't understand, White," he grits out, seething and angry and not N at all but still himself at the same time. "This is my dream, it's what I was born for. Reshiram and I showed Alder our conviction. I suppose it's time for me to do the same with you."
A sharp stab of pain lances through her body and she doubles over, gasping for breath. An Extrasensory attack explodes forth, brimming with such psionic power that it distorts the air and tears the ragged banisters into powdered scraps. The wave slams into Zekrom with the weight of a freight train, blowing it backwards into a cracked column. The Yin dragon roars in anger, veering back and delivering a Dragon Claw, striking Reshiram's flank and drawing blood.
N's face darkens, his handsome features twisted into an ugly scowl. "Bitch!" he howls. "Reshiram, Dragonbreath!"
Even as Reshiram inhales, draconic power swirling around them, she can see that N is impossibly, utterly lost. He's gone through some chasm through which she will never be able to reach. His eyes are stark cerulean.
In that moment, she understands that love is the second when you feel as though your heart will burst.
So, steeling herself, she gives in to the mystic sway of Zekrom, feeling energy, raw and delightful, coursing through her veins as she pulls down her self-built barriers and succumbs to the desire, the gravity between dragon and hero. Electricity is in her muscles, in the very fibers of her being, and before the insanity drowns her past self completely in a tide of encroaching blackness, she thinks,
I
love
y
o
u
N
.
.
.
Then, her mind goes blank.