Hello and good-bye.
How easy it is to love someone. How hard it is to see that they're not what you want them to be. — MattMisa, (LightMisa)
—
Smile, smile, smile.
How easy it is to smile.
(How hard it is to understand.)
Or to accept.
Misa-Misa Amane walks on the ground of denial, so far it reaches ahead in front of her two eyes, long and wide and curled forward—and one day she will tumble through the cracks that have been there from the start.
She knows, she only pretends she doesn't. It's easy to see how one-sided it is, how it is only she that wants, never he. Light Yagami stands tall in her own personal rankings, but that doesn't mean she's the same for him. All this time there has been only her, her and her futile attempts of using artificial respiration on a case long dead, never ever him.
Why doesn't he love—
Why can't he—
Why isn't there—
Misa will never ever know.
—
Misa can only pretend.
It's so easy, to paint your dreams in colors bright and strong, hiding the flaws beneath broad pensile-strokes, under lies and transparent dreams. She has done it for so long, it's one of those things she has grown to be an expert in. Pretending, ignoring, wishing. Her wishes never die; they grow like the strain of a fragile flower that can't survive the frost.
It will not die.
(It will die.)
The problem is—you don't choose who you love. You don't choose after their morality, love is more difficult—and simple—than that. Love just comes, it's there and takes—and never gives—and you can only watch it rumble your safe grounds to thin glass. She never wants to believe that Light is not the prince for her, because in her world he is. How can she admit that she has been blind-folded by her own stupid imagination that day when Light made her his—he said that he loved her, he said that he needed her, how can that be wrong?
(People lies.)
Misa swallows and presses her high-heels in the ground, lets the sound echo, echo like the faint sounds of her long dead heart.
She loves him. That will never change. She can't—she can't.
And then, this happens.
It takes only a blind girl with her complicated strings of a mind to completely crash into another person without even being remotely aware of it in the beginning.
She does.
"Oh," she catches from where she lies curled on the ground after her moments had sent her to the sun-warmed asphalt.
Too bad that the word "oh" doesn't leave her much to work with.
"I'm sorry," Misa manages with a weak voice, weak from the situation, weak for what she has become—a stuttering mess. Her blood runs afloat in her cheeks, boiling like water in a pot, the embarrassment almost becoming too much to handle in her blurry mind.
"Don't you worry about it," the person says and bows his head slightly, until they face eye-level. She looks through her blonde fringe, her brown eyes meet green, at least she guesses they're green, it's hard to tell due to those orange-tainted goggles he wears. "It can happen to everyone. Can I help you up?"
Misa has problems trying to find out what he wants. On one level, he doesn't look like the out-going type—that doesn't mean he's asocial, but because of that milky skin on his bare arms and lumpy attire, he looks more like one that spends his week-ends in front of the television than drinking himself to oblivion in pubs.
So different from Light, who has one million friends—and at the same time no one at all—and would find it a crime to relax during an evening. However, Misa muses, right now, Light is the last one she needs. Maybe, just maybe, happiness can be poured out from other aspects than from Light's mouth and his harsh kisses, maybe.
"Misa's sorry for being such a klutz," she giggles after he has dragged her up from the ground.
"Heh, I said you didn't have to worry about it," the boy says and runs a hand through his red hair. "I've seen worse, trust me."
Haven't we all? she wants to say but doesn't. He isn't interested in her arguments, no one really is. Light tells her she can't argument, she can't find evidence and put them on the plate, so why bother? She can't.
How easy it is to fall.
The boy quickly manages to snap her out from her thoughts by fishing up a cigarette from his pocket, swiftly lighting it aflame and bringing it between his thin lips.
Misa frowns. She can't stand smokers. "That's not good for you," she says and wrinkles her nose slightly.
He only smiles and inhales deeper. "Say what is, then," he challenges. His tone is slight teasingly, which in her world means that he is a bit interested in her—or doesn't want her to rot underground. For her, that's a very good thing.
"To be honest, I don't know," she admits and scrapes her shoe along the ground.
He leers. "Thought not. By the way, I'm Matt. What are you up to?"
Misa's smile fades into a thin line. She has no idea how to respond to that. Telling the truth will make him go, she just knows it. Strangers don't want to interfere in the personal bubble, the line is written with blood, you can't cross it. "Nothing," she finally answers, "and you?"
"Me?" Matt shrugs. "Dunno. Not much. Got betrayed by my best friend yesterday. That sucks."
"Oh," Misa says, which is the most useless answer ever. He lent her a piece of his mind and she should take it with more gratitude. But she has somewhat—because of Light—lost her ability to feel for others, in her world, she just sees her own pain. With much effort she swallows the lump in her throat and manages to cackle out an "I'm sorry for you."
He takes another blow on the cigarette. "Nah, it's okay. It hurts but what can you do? My friend—his name is Mello by the way—is like this. I have waited for this to happen a rather long time, I guess. It still hurts like agony though. I thought I deserved better."
"But you do," she puts in. "I mean—" How hard it can be to be sensitive to someone you don't know "—not that I know you or anything. But no one deserves that! Friends should be there. That's what friends are for. If you trust them, they should trust you."
"You're right," Matt smiles and puts a gloved hand on her shoulder. "I deserve better."
"Yeah, you totally do!" Misa agrees.
"And you?" Suddenly, he turns the attention to her. "Have you been betrayed?"
All the time.
No Misa, that's not true—
"Don't be ridiculous, Misa, you know I love you—"
It can't, it has to be—
"I—" Misa starts but the rest falls off unfinished.
His eyes are gentle, his touch is gentle, his words are gentle. Matt will never hurt her, he's not capable. He is not a Light but that's for the best—a Light brings her to the cemetery, slowly but steadily, in a marching pace. Matt only keeps her nose above the surface, even though he doesn't even know her yet.
"It's okay, you don't have to talk about it," Matt assures her. "I think I understand. But, if you want, can I invite you for some coffee?"
Misa-Misa Amane doesn't drink coffee—she drinks coca-cola—but she finds his offer far too spontaneous to be turned down. It's a chance, a chance to see the situation from above, without her glasses that makes her blind.
Maybe, Misa will be able to see reality.
She can't wait.
"Okay," she smiles and follows his high boots and lighted cigarette like a lost puppy.
A puppy that has found her home.
—
Let loose and set aflame.
Soon, you only need to care about yourself.
Because, in the far end, that's what everybody do.
She forgot how. It's time she relearns.
—
fin