Okay another Pandora Hearts fanfic... =D
This time it's the Will and Cheshire...
Cheshire has always been my favorite Chain in the series and the Will is really cute in a demented way... =D
Anyway Pandora Hearts doesn't belong to me. Jun Mochizuki is an awesome writer and I'm just one of her fans... =D
ENJOY! =D
"Wake up…"
Her voice is as sweet as the summer sun, as inviting as the falling autumn leaves, as enchanting as the winter snow and as beautiful as the spring flower. It doesn't fail to make him smile. It doesn't fail to make him want to obey because doing so will make him see her again.
The mop of maroon hair on his head blocks out her eyes and nose. All he can see is the inviting curve of her lips. She's beautiful. The way the sunlight dances over her pristine hair is simply breath-taking. He wants to see more. He wants to see her beautiful eyes, the color of violets that always see him with glee and happiness. He wants the picture to be complete.
A hand on his shoulder shakes him again. "Wake up… The sun is already up…"
He remains still, motionless. She's gullible and he knows he can fool her by staying perfectly still. She can't see his opened eyes after all.
The bed creaks under her weight and he can feel her silky hair brush across his arm as she leans towards him. "Wake up." She says succinctly this time. She's on the verge of giving up and just falling down on the bed like him. He knows that. He knows that well. It's the perk of always being with her.
He sees her lips form a thin line; it always happens when she's thinking. He waits for a bit more until he hears her sigh. "Fine. I'll make breakfast by myself."
That's his cue. He leaps to life. She has no time to even gasp as he grabs her by the shoulders. The bed squeaks in protest as he pins her down, back against the soft cushion of the bed. She's only able to catch a glimpse of his red hair before he buries his nose on her hair-covered neck.
She smells like flowers, like sun, like fruits, like grass, like soap; like life. She giggles. Her neck is always sensitive, especially when he cuddles on it like that. He just can't help himself. She seems so… fickle, so fleeting and so fragile that if anyone other than him were to hold her, she would break.
And he doesn't want that.
When he stops sniffing her hair because she's losing her breath, he says gleefully, "Good morning!"
In a less enthusiastic voice and more of a breathless one, she voices out her reply. She sits up and he sits Indian-style before her. They're both clad in their nightclothes, with hair ruffled and eyes filled with renewed energy.
"What should we do today?" She asks him with a smile.
"Anything with you is fine!"
She smiles at that. He always knew her best. He always knows what makes her happy. He makes her happy. He makes her safe. He makes her live as she does to him.
"Should we open up the store today?" She asks him eagerly.
He thinks for a moment. A thought strikes him and he nods vigorously. "Sure. Let's do that."
They get out of bed and put on their slippers. They separate, as much as they hate to, to do their morning rituals in the bathroom. She washes her face, combs her hair and braids the usual plaits and steps into her light blue dress. She twirls once in front of the mirror and smiles.
"He loves my smile…"
And it's true because her smile makes his day.
On the other hand, he just pats his hair to tame it. He dresses into his black trousers and white dress shirt. Her gift to him, a bell dangling from a pink ribbon that she used on her hair before, goes around his left wrist. Poking it once, it jingles gently.
"She loves hearing me approach…"
And it's true because it tells her that he's there.
The kitchen is always neat and tidy. She cooks well and he cleans up the mess. Today, she's feeling a bit not-lazy right now so she bakes bread for both of them and takes out the butter and honey. She hears the gentle jingle of the bell and she puts the bread in the oven.
"Bread and butter?" He asks.
"Honey too…" she replies.
He hums and starts boiling water for their tea. Life is simple and their only luxury is each other. Their joys are all in between waking up and going to sleep.
The smell of blood alarms him. His instincts bring him to her side immediately, but not before decreasing the flame's intensity. He watches her as she bends over the side of the dough to prevent her blood from staining their breakfast.
Taking her finger in his, he asks, "Are you alright?"
She nods and pinches around the bleeding area. Hissing, he sucks out the blood from her finger. She watches him from above her lids and flushes. He's always been so protective and caring.
"When did you hurt yourself?" He asks her.
Withdrawing her finger and furtively wiping it on the skirt of her dress, she replies, "Yesterday when we were sewing… I thought it wouldn't bleed again…"
He clucks his tongue. "Be more careful."
She nods and pinches his cheek. 'Thank you."
They resume their duties, but he keeps on glancing from behind his shoulder. It's innate for him to worry about her as it is innate for her to be sweet with him.
When the bread is finished baking and the tea is ready, they set the table and sit down together. It's a routine, he puts butter and honey on the bread and she pours tea into the cups.
Breakfast is one of the more lethargic parts of the day. They don't talk much, but it's nothing to mind. They're always together after all.
"I'll wash the dishes…" he says and stands up. She knows better than to object. When he employs that gesture, he won't take no for an answer. So she nods like the sweet girl she is.
Heading out of the kitchen, she goes to the store and prepares to open it. The curtains that cover the windows and doors prevent light from coming in. One by one, she pushes them apart and the blinding sunlight illuminates the inside.
Dolls of all kinds are nestled on the wooden shelves. They're dressed in different kinds of clothes in different kinds of colors and different kinds of styles. She and he work hard on them.
Most people believe that the two of them are mad, but then again who is to be called sane when the world is seen only in the eyes of that other person you cherish a lot? They are indeed an odd pair, but it's only because of intense affection brought about by their contentment in each other's presence.
She turns to the table where a single music box is on. It's a gift from him that she always cherishes. His face is the first thing that she remembers when she hears the tune and it always makes her happy. Anything involving him makes her happy.
With a slender hand, she opens the music box. A nostalgic melody fills the room. When he brought it to her as a gift, he said that he heard the melody in his dreams. To her it also sounds familiar, but she doesn't try to figure it out anymore.
Anything involving him makes her happy.
She feels warm and happy and safe and it's almost illegal for her to feel so.
Don't all human beings have the right to be happy?
Don't all human beings have the right to be happy?
Doesn't she have the right to be happy because she's a human being?
She does. Raising her arms like she has a partner, she twirls around the room, her dress billowing under her as she does.
After hearing the melody countless times, she's memorized it; made it a mantra to repeat in her doubting moments.
When she doubts that she deserves to be happy, she always hums the melody to herself.
She hears the subtle jingle of the bell that she gave him and it makes her smile amidst her dance. When he reaches the doorway, she stops and opens her arms to him: an invitation to dance with her.
He gladly accepts. With her hand snugly in his, his hand resting on her hip; just below the ribbon that separates the torso from the skirt and her palm pressing against his shoulder, they dance to the unusual melody.
It isn't the first time they've danced. Whenever she opens the music box and he hears the melody, they can't help but dance. It's like something that's grown on them.
It's not that he doesn't like dancing with her. Anything involving her makes him happy. But he can't help but feel something sorrowful behind their dance. When he closes his eyes, it's like he's in the repetition of that sorrow again. Some days it just makes him want to stop, but her laugh that echoes within his ears, makes him at ease again.
When they dance, he feels like he's done it before; like he's been in that situation before. He recalls nothing of the sort but he is filled with undeniable sorrow soothed only be her presence.
He wants to ask her if she's ever felt that way before. He wants to know if she feels the same sorrow he does when they dance to that nostalgic melody.
That melody is mocking him.
It's telling him that he's not the real one that makes her happy and that he, in turn should not be happy too.
Don't all human beings have the right to be happy?
Don't all human beings have the right to be happy?
Doesn't he have the right to be happy because he's a human being?
He does and yet he feels like he doesn't.
He stops moving all together and she's concerned.
"What is it?"
"I feel… sad…"
Her eyes widen.
"No…" her voice is shaking. "No…"
He meets her beautiful violet eyes. They're filled with grief and lined with unshed tears.
"No. Don't be sad…" she says. Her knees are shaking. "No… Don't be sad…"
She slides from his grasp and falls to the floor, sobbing, crying and covering her face with her palms.
"Please don't be sad..." she begs.
He is dumbstruck. Did he cause her tears?
Yes. Yes he did.
He made her to cry.
He made her cry… He made her cry… He made her cry… He made her cry? He made her cry? He made her cry. He made her cry. He made her cry! He made her cry! He made her cry!
HE MADE HER CRY!
It's unacceptable.
Falling to his knees, he takes her in his arms. Her sobs ring loud and clear in his ears.
"I'm sorry…" he says shakily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Her sobs cease and she finally stops crying, much to his relief. When he lets her go, her hand goes to his cheek and she says, "Please don't be sad… It makes me sad too…"
He nods and holds out his little finger. A childish way to keep a promise, but he knows she likes it and he does too. Hooking their little fingers together, she smiles.
He doesn't care anymore. If she's happy then he is too. It doesn't matter what that melody tells him. It won't stop him from cherishing her as he already has.
Anything involving her makes him happy.
And he intends to keep it that way.
"Mama, are they married?" A little girl asks her mother after buying a doll form their store.
She chuckles and pats the little girl's head.
"Dear it's impolite to ask that kind of question…" the mother scolds her daughter.
The little girl saw the picture of them hanging from the wall. He is standing behind her and is wearing a formal suit. She on the other hand is wearing a white dress with a white flower garland on her head; making her look very much like a bride. Their smiles are small, but the joy in their eyes in undeniable.
"To me," she starts, "He is the most important person in the world. It doesn't matter if I lose everything as long as I have him."
"Is he the same towards you?" The little girl asks hopefully.
She smiles and nods. "Yes."
"Isn't that nice?" The mother asks.
"It is…" she replies.
It's nice to know that there's someone who regards you as the most important person in the world. It's nice to know that merely making you happy makes him ecstatic. It doesn't matter if you're mad or if people perceive you as such.
It only matters that you have him.
He is the only one that matters to you.
And you're the only one that matters to him.
She turns to the picture frame mounted on the wall and hopes that he can get home sooner.
He's coming home from delivering a doll to a rich man's sick daughter. Due to her illness, she isn't able to play outside like other kids, but at least her dolls can give her solace.
He pities her. The sick girl is surrounded by gloom and people who are merely waiting for her to die. Her casket is ready, her grave is ready, the flowers to be put on her grave is ready and everyone in their house is ready for her departure.
"I hate it here," she told him.
He didn't know how to respond. The sick girl was slightly offended by his lack of response.
Pouting, she asked, "Won't you please stay here with me and be my knight?"
She's reading too many fairytales, he thought. But when she said the word 'knight', a chord struck in him.
"You're my knight…"
"I'm sorry. But I already have someone important to me," he said. "And she means everything to me."
He remembers how she pouted and ordered him to leave. He doesn't know what he's done wrong. He was just being honest after all.
"You're my knight…"
It's her voice, but he doesn't recall her saying that to him directly. It's like when they danced that morning. It's like there's something disturbingly sorrowful about him being her knight.
But he doesn't care.
As long as she's smiling, he can be happy.
He's holding a single white rose in his hand. She likes white roses and anything white in particular. He agrees. The color white suits her very well, like the color exists to compliment her.
It's very absurd, but he doesn't care.
While he's a few feet away from their store, he hears the melody again. The feeling of sorrowful foreboding fills him again, but he thinks of her, of her smile and of her beautiful voice.
The terrible feeling leaves him at once.
But then he sees the door wide open.
Like in the morning, he rushes to be by her side. Whatever could be happening, he has to be there to protect her.
He sees her on the floor surrounded by the broken forms of the dolls they spent so much effort and time on. He knows she'll be upset so he carefully evades them to kneel by her.
"Are you hurt?" He asks.
"No…" she says without meeting his eyes.
"What happened here?"
"The tax collectors are here…"
They always cause trouble for a lot of people. He grits his teeth and helps her stand. He kicks the glass shards away so she can walk without getting hurt. She sits down on a chair by the wall and suddenly footsteps approach them.
"There's nothing valuable here." One of them says.
"You need to pay the remaining amount now," another barks, making her flinch. He almost hisses at that one.
"If you don't we'll be forced to evict you out of your store and house." The thin one says.
"We pay the right amount and on time…" she says feebly.
"What did you say?!" The first one shouts as he takes a step towards her.
He automatically stands in front of her to shield her from the tax collector should be try to do anything hostile to her. No one can be allowed to hurt her.
"It's not enough," the thin one says. That's what they always say. "There are other things that require your payment."
"If you won't pay, you'll lose your house and this filthy store of yours."
"Or," the first one says, "We can destroy everything here."
She stares in shock as he knocks down row after row of dolls on the shelves. They all fall to the ground with a dulled thud and the thin one slices their limbs with his sword. The other one throws the dolls to the windows, making the glass break.
She wants them to stop and he knows that, but they might hurt her and that's gluing him to her side.
Until they get their hands on the picture frame mounted on the wall. The thin one throws it to the ground and the broken glass tears through the picture's surface. She shrieks "Stop!"
He is helpless enough to only cover her ears. She's crying again but he can't do anything about it.
"Please make them stop…"
"I can't…" he says. "I can't let them hurt you…"
There is no connection to what she wants and what he said, but she understands. She understands what he's trying to say. For his sake, she stifles her sobs and stops her tears.
Then she hears the music box being silences.
No. She won't stand for that.
Pushing him aside, she makes a dash for the music box and grabs it. She presses it protectively against her chest and says, "I won't let you destroy this!"
The first one's anger reaches its peak and he raises his hand against her. She is thrown to the other side by the impact of his hit.
She flinches in pain and her cheek is sporting a bruise but she smiles at the sight of her music box unharmed.
This he will not stand for anymore.
"You wench!"
Before the first one's hand could make contact with her again, his hand is stopped.
"You dared to hurt her…"
His eyes mirror malice and the clear intent to kill. His tone has dropped an octave or two that she doesn't even recognize him anymore.
"Anyone who hurts her is unforgivable…"
"What?" He cries out in pain when he feels his bones give way in the pressure. He falls to the ground whimpering pathetically like the scoundrel he is.
He turns to the others with merciless and ruthless eyes. They are next.
Yes.
No one can hurt his reason to smile.
No one can hurt his reason to be happy.
No one can hurt the one who defines life.
Because if anyone does, he will make sure they regret it.
"Does it still hurt?" He asks her as they lie down on their bed, facing one another.
She shakes her head and smiles. "I'm alright. You surprised me though…"
"I won't let anyone hurt you like that again," he promises her.
Nodding, her fingers ghost through his bruised knuckles. "I was scared…"
"I know…" he tells her. "But don't worry. I'll be your knight from now on. I'll protect you from now on."
She smiles again. Her violet eyes are filled with mirth and the moonlight makes her all the more radiant.
He would do whatever it takes to keep her smiling.
Because her smile makes him happy.
Because her smile defines his meaning of life.
Might I just say that Break and Sharon is a cute OTP?
Actually I also like Shelly paired with Break because she's actually dead but he talks of her as if she's alive... I don't know but I just find it romantic... =D
Can anyone guess why the title of this fic is "Bread, Butter and Honey"? First one to get the correct answer, even if it's just close to the real answer gets a fic of any pairing as long as it's not of the same gender... =D
Please do REVIEW! I appreciate it!
Thanks for reading!
chquine_harvinellisse