Disclaimer: Tchaah.
Moi Musings: This is set in an imaginary setting (slightly AU, if you please). The Uchiha brothers finally duel, ending it with Sasuke's death. Apologies to Sasuke lovers. Angst, brotherly love.
The young man watched, forlornly, at the vermillion orb which hung low, blazing in the sky. Its soft rays didn't warm him as they bled across the horizon, like red wine staining the table cloth, dancing, rippling across.
Like a painting.
Yes, a description ever so cliché, but fitting the scene perfectly. But of course, anything can be a painting, regardless of whether its beauty is astounding…
Or not.
Nevertheless, beauty is often chosen over ugliness, for lack of a better word. Of course, to look at something pretty is often pleasing, but is it truly worthwhile?
How confusing.
You can admire a rose. Obviously you could. But to touch it, and get hurt by its thorns, feel its needles piercing your skin…
Would you see it as beautiful afterward?
Like a majestic tree. You see how its leaves spread out, reaching for the sky and almost touching it, and you think…
Breathtaking.
But should you see its branches grow brown, from disease or whatsoever, would you think the same?
Someone once said that Change is good.
But was he really right?
Change is not always taken that well.
No.
Not at all.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Shakespeare, the literary genius had once declared.
However…
Not everyone thinks in the same, old-fashioned way.
Alas, alas…
But it was never the boy's fault. But perhaps, in the oddest way, it was.
The boy was too vengeful, too consumed, too blinded. He had fallen, and thought he was trying to get up, when he was actually immobile.
But it was his fault. Yes, the elder, or eldest, often took the blame; so naturally, it had to be taken by none other than…
Him.
He himself had been too jaded by power, obsessed with its fierce, raw beauty. The glory of it all was all too tempting, and he hungered for it, like a starving child hungers for nourishment.
And he was the one who led the boy on a leash into sharing his thirst.
But now, he wondered.
Had it been worthwhile?
To watch the boy, dying, his soul leaving him in every breath, to cradle in his arms, regret slowly savouring his heart as it gnawed his soul…
Did he make the right choice?
"…Brother…"
Did he choose the right path?
"Look…Brother…"
Did he lose the battle he had just only won?
"See the…butterfly…? Isn't…it pretty?"
He smiled at the boy, running a pale hand through his ebony hair.
"Yes, it is."
It was stained with blood.
"…Brother…?"
The little butterfly, with its pretty painted wings, shadowed the crimson rays of the sun, as the boy's blood…
"Yes?"
Danced across the land…Tainting the crystal water…
"…Did…you ever…love me?"
Just like a painting.
"…I don't know."
But I think I did.
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