DISCLAIMER: Magic Kaito is the respective creation and property of Gosho Aoyama.
AUTHOR: Melpomene-the-Tragic-Parody
MAIN CHARACTERS: Kaito Kuroba, Aoko Nakamori
CHAPTER: #11
TITLE: Shatter Me
INSPIRED BY: ~ Shatter Me, by Lindsey Stirling ft. Lzzy Hale ~
~M.K~
Love, in reality, was a sensation that fell prey to corruption and desolation. Love, in dreams, was a cascade of wonders beholding whimsical tales of romance and valiance and blissful endings. Perhaps it was the innocent romantic in her heart, but the latter had an appeal that was quite challenging to dismiss.
In her world, there were no knights in shining armor to sweep her into a frenzy of fantasies. In her wake were men whose charms lost their finesse and grew cold to the touch. Where had the passion gone? To the sound of her ear had laughter faded and in her eyes had the sparks dimmed. From lover to lover, the theme survived through the passing seasons, and ultimately she comprehended why it persisted.
Sweetness to sourness, adoration to fury, joy to sorrow, exhilaration to boredom, color to gray, the cycle was never-ending in search of a hopeless dream in reality. In hindsight, perhaps their faults were accentuated in the sense that they were ordinary, driven by ambitions expected of their status, and not by a sense of whimsicality and spontaneity.
Perhaps therein lay her greatest downfall: the search for the vanished half of her heart, embedded with a spectrum of mischievousness and merriment. It cried out to the soul who threw her world into a frenzy of chaos, infuriating and marvelous, and unyielding to a sane world. This deck of hearts spurned the prince and implored the mercy of the joker, the wildest card of the pack. Unpredictable and wholesomely wonderful.
Yet it was the sensations that gave her that taste of life. By conscience, her remorse knew no limits. To walk between worlds was the ultimate curse to behold. To weave herself into reality and fall victim to the cycle tore every wall she had to rubble and ash. To drift into dreams and fall victim to the desires she truly craved woke her to a world encumbered with that shattered spectrum of emotion.
She held no resistance to the memory of his gleaming eyes or knavish lips, enraptured in a sin she pledged forever to disavow.
There were no others who could replicate or surpass the spirit he left inside her, or erase her desire for his presence beside her; a presence she had cast away from tethering her being to a life so cruel.
The lingering ivory form of his ghost haunted her world, seen, heard, but untouched, a constant reminder that the dream she coveted was beyond her reach.
Sourness to sweetness, fury to adoration, sorrow to joy, boredom to exhilaration, gray to color, that trickster had always swayed her in reverse to the existence that reality had dealt her. There was no world in which such a burning love could endure. It was nothing but a forbidden gesture of passion for one whose heart was besmirched by deceit. Whose cunning lips told tales of grandeur and miracles. Whose crafty touch shattered through her being, playing with the exquisite heart shattered from its shining casing, another precious gem stolen beneath the moonlight.
Love had woven her crimson cord to a fate entwined with secrets and lies. Her dreams were scattered across a kingdom governed by a forbidden affair and a worrisome ending. Perhaps it was the enlightened romantic in her heart, but there was only ever one true love for her, regardless of the burden weighed between them. Unrelenting to the truth, she opposed granting him absolution. Their fates were sealed between two worlds, incapable of converging into eternity.
Glistening from chaos woven black and blue, love was beautiful as it was wicked. Was it not his solemn oath to shroud himself in magic without her? Was it not her misfortune to loathe a phantom hidden in darkness? Failed lover to lover, the theme persisted, and ultimately she accepted the truth. Their hearts were forever intertwined in their unrequited dreams.
That was their shattered reality.
~M.K~
FURTHER NOTES:
Aren't I a ball of sunshine?
Nearing the end of the semester, I hope I can put more into these stories. I feel like assignments sap my creativity these days.
Reviews and criticisms are welcome.
—MELPOMENE-THE-TRAGIC-PARODY, signing out.