because memories just aren't cutting it anymore.
close to home
s o k a i k u
and it's bad, badbadbad.
she cant help but feel nostalgic in that lonely kind of way, where she side-steps to avoid sympathy hugs and feels her eyes welling up with tears that never meet the skin on her cheeks.
"what an old country song," she says, angry and flippant, but inside she feels broken and worn, as if one wrong word or comment that hits a little too close to home could send everything crashing downdowndown around her ankles.
"no," they say. "kairi's too much of a tomboy to do that," they say, but oh, they couldn't be more wrong. after all, only they knew—know—the real her, the her who climbed trees to reach paopu fruits to share with—
"what, giving up already?"
and
"i'm always with you, too. i'll come back to you. i promise!"
so that they would stay together, forever. and she misses those boys now more then she ever did before. and she wants to see them, wants to feel their faces and the warmth that radiates from their skin when she sits between them. because the memories just aren't cutting it anymore, and the dreams are steadily getting worse and worse and that's just terrible to her.
so what is she supposed to have left?
n o t e ;; happy new years! –throws confetti- and this is your new year's fic.
no, im not dead; stop asking. also, this fic is dedicated to Neon Red Heels.
because i told her i would.