a/n: I don't know what the hell I've written, but it's made me cry. I suppose it's emotional release.
+standard disclaimer.
crimson dreams and scarlet letters
(because sometimes, even kings fall)
Anna is eleven and knows damn well that nothing will ever be the same again. There's no Red Clan, no HOMRA anymore.
(She wants to scream, scream bloody murder and beg them to come back to her, but the sound doesn't come out.)
She watches as former (because there is no HOMRA, dammit) members cease coming to the bar—watches as Izumo closes up an hour early and sink into his bed, muffled sobs escaping sometimes before he comes down to cook Anna dinner.
(Don't cry, Izumo, she wants to say, you'll make Mikoto and Tatara sad.)
They both knew what he was going to do. Mikoto was always rash, always, always. Still, he did it with such intent that she realizes he's probably been planning it all for awhile, and soon, she doubts how well she knew him. How didn't she know, she always knows.
(The night haunts her, now—it haunts her and Mikoto can't protect her.)
But it doesn't matter, because Mikoto's dead and Tatara's dead and her family? There is no family, not anymore. It's broken and dysfunctional and mourning. She clutches to Izumo's hand, now, but it's not the same.
(Munakata stops by, and she flinches so hard at the sight of him she almost falls of her barstool.)
Izumo's not Mikoto, nor is he Tatara, but he's the closest thing to real she has and if he lets go—she thinks (no, she knows) her world will disintegrate if he lets go. She thinks that if the spirit of HOMRA dies, then Mikoto and Tatara will be sad. She needs to think that because otherwise she'll break, deepen the cracks in her porcelain heart.
(Izumo's stopped crying now, and Anna doesn't bother to see if he's okay—because he's not.)
It's the New Year, and Izumo buys her a beautiful red pen. It's warm and comforting and she holds it close to her heart, as if the colour will run away. It's not Mikoto's scarlet, but it's a scarlet and she finds herself writing letters to the dead.
(She finds she's slept best when she dreams of Mikoto and Tatara—everything hurts less.)
Soon, there'll be a new Red King, and Anna knows his red won't be as beautiful as Mikoto's. No red could be as beautiful as Mikoto's. Izumo bristles at the thought of a new Red King, a new Red Clan. She can tell he's offended that Mikoto is being replaced. He's being replaced like a doll.
(That night, she dreams of destruction and death and everything's crimson.)
