Konnichiwa. Herein I present another drabble-- this one even more drabbly than previous ones. The title is random. Written after reading "Paint" by Klayter McCabe and while listening to Simon by Lifehouse. If you know the song and think like me, you can probably find parts where it is referenced. Now, I demand those who haven't go read the fic AND listen to the song. (Not necessarily at the same time. They don't really connect, the song just happened to come on a little after I read the fic, and the combination produced this.)
Well, do that, but either before or after you do, be sure to read and review this as well. Not that you'll necessarily like it, but please, I'm insane. I need to know people are reading these things.
Now. Read. Listen.
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She sees his face in the dark and she blinks, but it does not go away. It's older. It's darker. It is Sasuke but it's not. She is barely awake and she thinks it's a dream, but she blinks again, and she knows it is not.
Her numb feet move toward that shattered boy, and he blurs in and out of focus in such a way that she thinks she can see pieces falling off him and drifting into the night.
She sees the crimson of his eyes, spinning, and she watches the black spots bleed into the red until his eyes are nothing more that holes, too deep to see the bottom. She wonders if the same thing is happening to the blood beneath his skin, but even though he's changed, she thinks he bleeds the same color she does.
She is almost tempted to reach out and cut into his face with her fingernail, just to be sure. But the shadows are still shifting in and out of her head, and she would not know if she was scratching flesh or just the liquid emptiness.
He reaches out with a pale arm, pale as moonlight, his palm facing upward. In the breaking gloom he is like a specter, and his nails split like the blackened claws of an animal, his hand like it is holding all the light in the world.
He says, "Join me as a hit the wall," which makes no sense, except in the darkness when a mind is still clouded with sleep and with love.
She shifts with the shadows and suddenly she sees him, in stark relief, lit against the background of nothing and still as pale as the moon, a ghost, a snake, a nothing of everything with his hand held out to her. It is only for a moment, but she sees him.
She thinks in that moment, her rosy hair turns black, her blue eyes dark, her skin pale and burning.
The curtains fall back and it is like before, but his hand still there, reaching out to her, offering to take her like she has always wished, and she wonders if he is trying to break her apart.
The darkness shifts again, and she finds her skin looks just like his. In a moment, a limp, shattering moment, she shakes off all her scars. And then she steps into the darkness, and puts her hand in his.
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Written during what was probably a mental breakdown. Barely edited. Just so you know.