Muddy sunshower.

You will be the one to share mine with.

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Headphone does not own.

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There were sunflower shoes adorning his feet. (They were there from a bribe. He lost it unbearably.) His face was covered with mud. (And so were his hands.) His eyes glimmered in fear, and were bawling. He had ruined his usually white dress. His features showed exasperation of every variety. (I didn't want to see him like this.)

"Do you love me?"

"Do you?"

"You don't, do you?"

(Of course I would never.)

"I know how you people work."

"You're all the same."

It's one word after another. (And he won't be quiet.) His orifice keeps on pooling out words at every possible second he can. (And I'm swearing I've heard this all before.) Dullness reaches out from his body and affects mine, and my voice suddenly goes into the same state as his. (And I'm pulled into the swagger of never-ceasing converse.)

"I love you."

(Lies.)

"You are my world."

(Even more lies.)

"I could never live without you."

(Why would you bury yourself to this extent?)

Knowing full well what was to happen, I braced myself slightly. I could feel his eyes burrowing itself into my head and I could hear every word he wanted to tell me that he couldn't bring himself to spill. (Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar--) Every time I blinked, his face seemed to have morphed somehow, and every time the mud on it was removed and repainted, an endless cycle that was normally unseen.

"I don't believe you."

(He knew I was a fraud, liar, cheat, anything.)

His deep green hair was still, and with one single blink, the mud on his face was removed, and I realized what that meant. (I was the dirty one.) Hands covered in filth and sludge, I reached out and touched his face, missing and slipping his neck, suddenly feeling the sting. (I didn't want him to fear me.)

His feet shifted, the golden flowers on them reallocating ever-so-slightly, and with my vision averted downwards, I could see my reflection in the puddles on the ground. (I saw how I looked with my golden tresses tussled, and my face plastered with makeup that tried much to hard to hide the filth underneath it.)

"You're beautiful."

(I'm not sure who said it first.) Jaws drop. (Along with my hand that had pressed his neck.) A sudden flurry happens and all I can taste is something that tastes too sweet to have been natural, and something that's too fine to be human. (It's his taste.) I can't help myself to close my eyes, and I'm forced to stare at him mud-contaminated jowls moving as considered necessary to match the imaginary tempo. (I'm confused within the mess of it all.)

"I love you." I whisper as softly in the kiss as I can before I feel myself being abruptly tugged back, a breather if you would. (He was breathing heavy, even for as little duration.) the mud on his face had moved, and as he folded his arms indignantly, his ivory yet sunny dress crumpled slightly, and I felt it was a waste of any kind. (I couldn't put the right word on it, other then a waste of beauty.)

"Say it again."

(I wanted to call him a liar, but I was too drawled in.)

"I love you, my sunflower."

(And his sunflower covered shoes were discarded in the translucent puddle we had been standing in, as we fell up with the sludge.)

End.

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You can't really tell, but this is Sync x Guy.

Yeah. Beat you didn't see that coming.