Written for Yagyuu's birthday 2009. Nothing but memories here. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: No own.
La petite mort
The last threads of sunlight slipped across the floorboards, slowly drawing into the darkness. Yagyuu stared at the dying sun sliding over the edge of the horizon, his lenses reflecting the fading light.
Yet the traces of orange and gold that lingered still managed to scorch his eyes. The same pain stabbed at his chest but stubbornly he refused to withdraw his gaze.
He remembers the figure once sprawled across the wide seat, strands of silver spilling into his eyes full of so much laughter in the depths of aquamarine. Yagyuu had, for so many times, buried his fingers in the silken softness and brushed aside the untame locks to drop a kiss, with him erasing the usual ice-like mockery from his pupils to envelop him in a gentle embrace, slender frame snuggling into his arms, muffled laughs ringing in his ear.
The memories stretch long and transparent like crystalline lines of descending rain, wrapping around the lone figure that stares out at the light drops falling onto the sill. The plants left there, long untended-to, droop pathetically under the patter steadily growing thicker, as if no hopes of another sunny day remain.
For he had been here too on days of similar weather, enjoying the pleasure of cool splashes wetting his palm. Yagyuu recalls equally icy fingers tugging at his own, motioning for him to sit, a slight quirk appearing at the corner of his lips at the ramrod posture he still held. Ignoring the dropping temperature he always had a few buttons carelessly undone as he gazed out in sudden bouts of silence, the cries of winds drawing him towards an unknown world.
When the end finally came he had been lying on the sill as well, turning his eyes to Yagyuu, a wan smile halfheartedly stretched across his pale face, thin fingers restlessly smoothing non-existent creases, eyes misted over and lost in hallucinations. Yet he still recognized him, and while making a last attempt at imitation he had whispered adieu, the word balancing on his lips for a moment only to shatter into infinite pieces, never to be mended.
Then the warmth had gradually drained from their joined hands, throwing him into this never-ending labyrinth of despair.
Since then it had become a habit for him to stare at the lingering sunset, the misty curtain of rain, and everything else from the window that could be seen, his gaze fixed as though he could still see Niou leaning on the windowsill, smiling at him one moment but melting into the air before his eyes like foam pierced by reality before he could reach out to take his hand.
His lips ache with longing, with one name that remains an unanswered call, echoing hollow and shriveled in an empty room of an empty house, staring out with empty, empty eyes on the empty and deserted street, reverberating through an empty world with a dying whisper of finality.
It has been too long.
Might it never end?
My heart is dead, dearest.
I only pray now
that time soon takes the rest.
FIN
09/10/19