her subliminal rose
She loved how his ragged, ruby-stained hair swung as a mullet behind him. She loved how he vetoed the tie altogether, decked out in an untucked-unbuttoned shirt that revealed too little of his heaving chest. She loved how his goggles crowned his forehead, how she could see her reflection bouncing back into her eyes when she stood before him. She loved how he lacked poise, lacked proper posture. She loved the way his tongue would flick playfully at her. She loved how he was perfectly flawed, ideally screwed up. She loved his inadequacy.
It hurt.
She wanted him.
But for now he'd stay as a desire.
For now she'd stay as a desire.
He wanted her.
It hurt.
He loved how she was everything he wasn't. He loved how she'd been granted grace, how she'd been granted class. He loved how her eyes made the stars doubt. He loved how she picked out the shortest skirts and the smoothest ribbons where he could "accidentally" get his fingers tangled. He loved the mesmeric glint she'd get in her eye when her irises came in contact with his goggles. He loved how she'd bite her lip when he'd run his tongue over his own. He loved the way she looked at him, reached out for him. He loved how she hated him for loving life more than her without knowing that she was his life.
He wanted to be suave.
Wanted to sweep her off her feet.
He wanted to be slick.
Wanted to make her swoon over him.
He wanted her to be his.
Wanted her body to be adjacent to his in the dark of his room.
He had given her a single red rose, lips imperceptibly brushing against her pale ear as he'd whispered, "The answer lies within the petals."
He knew she was not an idiot, and she wasn't. She had gone home and sat herself upon her silken bed, white sheets sliding underneath her. She knew not of the stained sheets he had, nor the roaches that he'd befriended. She only knew of crisp cleanliness, the whites of her comforters now suddenly ridden with cherry petals as she chanted and switched such infamous words over and over again: "He loves me … He loves me not. He loves me …"
The last petal fell on her lap—"He loves me not."
She'd suddenly been shot with a melancholy bullet.
Reno didn't see Kairi for days.
For days Kairi didn't see Reno. She did not leave her house. She did not eat, sleep, bathe, or get out of bed. Life was the longest thing a person did and she hated it. She hated him. She thought the opposite of him now, like she had suddenly warped into the other side of a mirror and was now the reflection instead of the reflector. Those days, the sun and moon might as well have been identical; it did not matter whether she liked night or day better. She'd have to live through both anyhow.
However …
She was not meant to be a shrew, an empty shell imprisoned forever within her own abode.
Dawn broke. She found herself on her porch and came across the single withered petal she had once dropped.
fin.
Dedicated to Felia/Miyori.
Reno & Kairi are Tetsuya Nomura's.