A little something I wrote. Not exactly the best, I know. But here it's here, and it's not really all that happy.
Usual disclaimer: I don't own anything, save for the writing.
i.
The night is new, the air cold and damp, with the fog breathing over them like some sort of unbearable calm. He shouldn't be calm. He doesn't want to be.
The girl sitting next to him seems to think otherwise. She seems to be drinking in the peace and serenity of their current situation. He can tell by her otherwise content sigh as they sit side by side, staring at the sky.
"I don't know why I don't do this more often. It's so pretty! The stars shine like rubees!"
Mimi's eyes shine like her beloved rubees, too, and now he's staring at her and her pretty, green face, and how she shines underneath the moon to the point where she's more beautiful than ever before.
...His own thoughts sicken him.
Stay detached. Emotions are silly, and the plan does not call for them. Don't even begin to feel. Stop it, stop it, stop it-
He reaches his hand out and brushes a strand of hair away from her face, anyway.
When she looks up at him, there is a frown on his face.
"Dimmy? Is something wrong?" she asks, with a curious look on her face.
"Yes," he responds, his harsh frown not letting up.
"Well, what is it?"
"You're such a distraction," he spits, getting and up and storming back inside the black and white (tasteless, atrocious) castle.
He doesn't have time for similes tonight. Mimi is left confused and speechless.
ii.
She doesn't make an effort to talk to him again after his outburst. She should know when the stupid jester needs his space, lord knows how many times she's angered him for breaking in to get her diary back at the "wrong time" or whatever.
She enters her pink room and closes the door with a sigh.
Distraction. Mimi doesn't understand, and she writes as much in her diary.
She leaves it out in the open. She knows he'll come for it. It's one of those nights, and she doesn't particularly feel like trying to find a new hiding place.
(He'll find it anyway. He always does.)
iii.
"Then he called me a 'distraction' and rushed back inside the castle! I don't know what's up with that doofus!"
Dimentio cracks a small smile at that.
"But, still... What does that even mean?
Am I distracting him from doing something?
It just doesn't make any sense!"
Dimentio shuts the pink, shiny book with a sigh and covers his face with his hands. What does that even mean? Even he's not sure at this point.
His words are beginning to echo in his mind. Distraction, distraction, distraction...
He knows what he meant. He just doesn't want to admit it.
iv.
If he kissed her, once, maybe he wouldn't be so distracted.
He does, on a cold night, with the moon rampantly shining upon them, and he feels repugnant and off-key. His plan is so far away from this moment, and when they break apart, he says nothing. He stares at her, and she stares back, and the silence between them is almost comforting.
He doesn't have the heart to break it and tell her about his plan, no matter how much he (doesn't) wants to.
v.
So when he fails, he's not surprised. He had gotten so far only to be defeated, and maybe if he had gotten farther, he could have saved Mimi and taken her with him to be his tool, and maybe then his little distraction wouldn't be a distraction anymore.
(She wouldn't do it, anyway. He knows. But that doesn't stop him from wanting to when he sees her heartbroken look upon learning of his betrayal.)
But he is defeated with nothing but a sigh. He can't do anything about it anymore, and he almost feels… peaceful, being put to rest like this. (At least he wouldn't be distracted anymore, he notes, cynically, but it doesn't stop him from feeling bad about thinking that, when he sees tears on Mimi's face at the break of the news of his demise.)