The Morning After
Disclaimer: Do not own DCMK.
You see, he promised me many things. He promised me the stars and the moon. When he left, the night went with him. And I was left with a sky. A fabric that stretched on and on. A blue so true it hurts.
For that, I was grateful
She did not know why she went with him.
He did not know why she went with him.
They said it was love. The willful blindness that, oh, all the lovers eventually fell accursed to. It was unavoidable. The spindle that spun and spun on the rickety old sewing machine, its top sharp and waiting - waiting for the one delicate touch that will bring everything to an end. It was inevitable, they say. Love makes you blind. Those kids. It is a potion playfully labeled "drink me", left in an empty room to tempt the thirsty mind... and who could resist? Who could refuse the temptation, saying no no no when everything else was saying yes yes yes...
I love you, she said. But she did not know why.
I love you, too, he replied -
andt he did not know why.
Blue child... blue child... that was her name. Literally. What the rationale behind such a name? Why Blue Child, out of all names? Blue was the colour of sadness. Of loneliness. Of solitude that cast the rain over the windows and roofs and everything was damp and sad. Blue was a sad colour. Why would any parents wish for their child to remain little and sad?
He never asked, and she never told.
His name meant Clover. It was an odd name, she thought. His father was a magician. A man more than capable of pulling rabbits from hats and making pretty flowers suddenly appear. Luck was a magician's best friend. Perhaps that was why his father had wanted a child named after a plant that brought good fortune. A little extra dash of magic for his many performances. But his father had failed. On her lover's eighth birthday, the performance had gone awry and the magician drowned in his own glass box. Everyone took his frantic clawing against the glass as part of the performance. Some people clapped. They pointed at the frantic misery in his face and laughed.
Adios, adios.
"Home for dinner tonight?"
It was a rhetorical question. He murmured something between a yes and no. Took his white jacket from the coat hanger. The monocle clinked reassuringly in his breast pocket.
"Love you."
The door kept ajar by one gloved hand, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"Thank you."
She drew back, not bothering to reciprocate his kiss.
"Be careful."
The door closed with a final click behind him.
Hands folded, she walked to the couch and sat down.
She turned on the news.
A/N: *sips tea*