Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It has been said that there are two ways to shine light into this world. One, is to hold the candle. The other, is to reflect the candlelight.
...
He has been living in the dark far too long than he could even remember. He didn't know what the meaning of light, or warmth, was. He was used to the coldness to even care.
There were numerous times when he often woke up in the middle of the night, cold sweat rolling down on his face and neck, as he dreamed of all those people whom he has killed. Those people who pleaded him for their pathetic life.
The person who brought him up and took care of him once told him, "One day, you'll grow up just like me." And grow up just like the old man he did.
With his cold demeanor and blood-tainted hands and nightmare-filled nights.
Sometimes, the two of them would talk instead of sleep to chase those nightmares away.
"You'll get used to it," said the man, when he killed a person for the first time in his life. He was fifteen at that time, and the look on the man's face while he was pleading for his life was etched in his mind and haunted him in his sleep.
You'll get used to it, he thought, countless of times before. He muttered those words inside his head like a mantra, over and over again until he realized that he was never going to be used to this kind of thing.
And then, he met her.
She had been his candlelight, lighting this cold, dark world that he was used to living in. She was also everything he could never be. Always smiling, always positive and bright and warm and innocent.
And like a moth to a flame, a metal to a magnet, he was magically drawn into her, unknown feelings suddenly overflowing in his chest.
His chest hurt every time he saw her smiling her pure smile with those twinkles in her eyes. He didn't know what this pain meant, but he was sure of one thing: she could never be his.
...
The life she had been living up to now was all full of lies.
She was an orphan, and his uncle and aunt just took pity on her and adopted her. She found out about this when she was fifteen.
Still, she kept smiling at people although she knew what they've been saying at her behind her back.
'They said her mother was a whore.'
'Her father was a drunk. Someone told me that he beat his wife to death and killed himself afterwards.'
'Oh my. Are you sure?'
'Yeah.'
She could hear these words, but she always pretended that she didn't. She kept her mask on, a smile on her pretty face.
And then, she met him.
He had been the first person to tell her that she was an idiot for taking other people's words too seriously.
"Don't let them get into you."
"Why?"
"Because once you do, you'll lose control."
"And?"
"And that's what they want. That's what they've all been waiting for."
He always frowned and scowled and acted like he got all the problems in the world on his shoulders, but that was what made her more attracted to him.
She wanted to make him smile. She wanted to take that ugly frown on his handsome face and replace it with a warm smile, even for just a while.
But then, he told her of his past, how dark and twisted his life was.
And little by little, he kept his distance until he finally disappeared from her life. And she was relieved. But inside her mind, there existed a little thought, saying: no matter how damaged and fucked up you are, I still wanted you.
...
They met a few years later, when they were old and wise and wrinkled. The scowl on his face was long gone, but the smile on her face never disappeared.
A/N: I originally published this on FictionPress and completely forgot about this orz I think I wrote this with Natsume and Mikan and Mikan in mind, but I'm not sure hahahaha D: