ii. through with you
***
can you see me
floating above your head
as you lay in bed
thinking about everything
that you did not do
cause saying I love you
has nothing to do with meaning it
She sat at her boudoir brushing her hair when Kaho came in. The room was airy, and the color of cream, with a mess of pictures pinned to her western wall. Her bed was squat in the middle, the head pushed up against a wall.
Kaho crept in, then, disturbing the peace; but that was alright, because Nakuru was rather fond of Kaho and meant no ill to the young priestess. The woman in question walked up behind Nakuru, startling her slightly; she dropped her hairbrush to the floor. It was pretty piece of wood painted pale lavender, and Kaho picked it up, and began to brush Nakuru's hair.
"Hello," Kaho said, smiling. Nakuru knew that England was hard for her, and she felt a little sorry for her on the days when she was wane and pale, longing for her island homeland. The rest of the time, Nakuru forgot about Kaho.
There were times when, secretly, she and Suppi would sit and whisper complaints about her to each other. They missed all the attention their master used to give them, and they sometimes regretted that Eriol and Kaho had ever met.
But then, Suppi would point out, if they hadn't met, then Sakura never would have been able to defeat Yue in the Final Judgement, and Eriol wouldn't have had to go help Sakura change the cards in Sakura Cards, and then maybe the two of them would never have been created. It was fate.
Fate, Nakuru would repeat, nodding. Fate. Then she would go to the kitchens, and look for a cake or five to stuff Suppi with, because she was bored and Eriol didn't allow TV, so she needed some form of entertainment.
That's what she always told Eriol, anyway, when he (half-heartedly) reprimanded her for getting Suppi drunk.
Kaho began to braid Nakuru's long, auburn hair.
Their hair color really wasn't so different. Kaho's was a little redder, a little more luxurious; but that was all.
When she was done, Nakuru stood up. "Good night," she said, a little coldly. Her head hurt, and the braid was heavy, and she was confused about what had happened that night. She wanted to go to bed.
Kaho looked hurt, but she left.
***
and at night when you sleep
do you dream that I will be there
just for a minute or two do you?
It was one in the morning, and Nakuru still couldn't get to sleep. She hugged her pillow, nibbling absent-mindedly on one of it's corners. The moon was full that night, and she was always at her most restless when that happened.
She rolled over onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. Black and blue shadows bathed her room like a watercolor painting.
To tell the truth, she missed Tomoeda. Sure, there was never anything to do there, and most of the people seemed to be idiots, but...
She especially missed two people in particular: Yukito, who she felt was a sort of brother to her, no matter how much she disliked him, and Touya, who she had really, really liked...(it didn't hurt that he would have been a delicious snack). But they had each other, and they didn't need her.
The Peachblossom and his Snow Bunny...or was it the other way around?
Did they miss her? Of course not.
There was always a boy that she would cling to, wherever she was. In Tomoeda, it had been Touya; who would it be here? Before, in England, she had clung to a pretty blonde-haired boy named Richard. He hadn't really minded it; in fact, he was a little flattered (he had a bit of a crush on Nakuru). But he had moved away to some other part of England; and she had no one else.
The glitter on her thin shoulders still hadn't washed all the way off. In the dark light, it shimmered eerily.
***
I spend every hour waiting for a phone call
that I know will never come
The house was silent. Large, rickety, a character in itself: the stubborn, eccentric house was perfect for Eriol. Nakuru sometimes felt uneasy in it, dizzy; she felt like the house was watching her.
At school, the other day, the girls had giggled about boys, and moaned about blood. Nakuru never knew what to say in times like this; Eriol had simply not known the functions of the female body when he created her. But she always felt so left out, so alone...the thing. A thing. She was the thing. It was the thing.
Grammar; the structure of sentences and words, sister to spelling; nitpicky, frustrating, and generally annoying. Nakuru despaired over it, knowing it never would properly address her. Simply, as to not avoid confusion, Grammar glossed over what "she" was, pretending she was not there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A piece of collage-ruled notebook paper slipped to the ground, landing quietly so as not to be noticed.
The dining room table was old, and a heavy cherry wood; it shone in the young sunlight. It was just spring; and the weather was green, lush, immature: so young and hopeful.
Suicide weather.
Bored, Nakuru flipped absent-mindedly through the pages in her math book. The squiggles and lines made no sense to her. She hated school in general, like any other person. They, too, had to wear uniforms at this one: sternly starched green plaid skirts and soft, sleet gray jackets over scratchy white blouses and unbearably hot knee socks with green trim. Nakuru softly clicked her heels under the ancient, massive dining room table.
It would be incorrect to say that she was expecting a phone call. Rather, she craved a phone call, like a junkie craves the fix. She was alone, bored, doing homework-it was to be expected, right?
There was a tree outside the window-young, the buds just opening. White poplar, Nakuru thought it was called. It shivered in the wind, resembling a young woman stuck in the cold and rain. It quivered and shook, seeming to whisper something-
Wait. What was that?
Slowly, Nakuru turned her head, looking around, expecting Eriol and Kaho to be back from the park. Nothing.
Come to think of it, the noise didn't sound anything at all like their voices...
Nakuru turned back to her homework. She gasped.
Laying on her algebra-scribbled paper were two entwined flowers: a magnolia and a cherry blossom...
They spelled out the letters "t" and "s".
In the other room, the phone rang.
***
heartache heartache I just have so much
a simple love with a complex touch
there is nothing you can say or do
I called to let you know I'm through with you.
***
Another chapter! Whew. I got the idea for this chapter during science. I hate science. Anyway.
Thank you reviewers! Whenever I read those lovely reviews you gave me, I get all warm and fuzzy inside. At least, I think that's what those feelings are. Feedback is now my new best friend.
Just a warning: this isn't going to have S + S or E + T at all. I kind of despise those pairings. So, if you're afraid of some shoujo-ai hints, you may not want to read this. Or just skip through those parts, whatever.
This author note is getting too long. Bye! and leave feedback!