Oh em gee! One of my best friends got me a Storm Ring for my birthday! I am soooooo happy!
Boop-boop-badoop :P Once again, shout outs to everyone who took interest in this story. As a special thank you, take a chocolate-chip muffin for reviewing/faving/alerting.
Ughhh I'm a little frustrated though lately. There is one 5927 story idea in particular that seems really epic to me, and I'm trying to write it, but words are not cooperating *pout*. Oh well.
Chapter three is "Shooting Star". I do not own KHR. (Ohey, that rhymes!)
LOL, short story is short.
0o.o0o.o0
Shooting Star
Unfortunately, the only movement was in green, red or orange, or some other color. A faint hum accompanied the blinking spot of color as it drifted through the collective mass of dust straight above. And the water flowed, gently, gently, like the smoothest sound, away, but left us the white lights, standing endearingly.
My coat was loosely draped across his lithe shoulders, his shelter from the sharp weather. When a breeze danced by, his hair stayed like the starlight reflecting on the water, as unmoving rocks in the surrounding turbulence. Perfectly sure. Except you couldn't touch it – could not, because the flow wouldn't allow you, no matter how strong you were. It blew in my ear vehemently, taunting me. How I hated it, how it hurt.
How beautiful he looked with the moonlight on his flawless skin and the world dancing in his eyes. I split my attention between the sky and the Sky. Words caught themselves at the bottom of my throat and festered into pain. My fingers involuntarily rose to the cross strung on my necklace – the one he gave me our first Christmas – and tapped it, and I thought hard, letting out a long breath.
Please, just one… for him, if nothing else, because he deserves it so much…
Energy burst forth from his lips. His hand flew toward the heavens. I could feel his movement with my eyes closed. "Gokudera-kun," he sang, "Look, quick!"
Just as I opened my eyes, a last peek of our blazing white target streaked away. He lowered his delicate hand and let out a happy sigh.
And he looked at me with those eyes of his; those caramel-sweet eyes filled high with the hope and innocence I so deeply respected, wanted and protected, the ones I thanked God every day for being able to live on the same Earth as their owner, their impeccable, wonderful, amazing, incredible, frankly indescribable owner. He was wearing a smile, too, that made my heart melt. His tiny fingers gripped my coat to close further around him.
"We found a shooting star," he said. That magical face turned back to the black above, to be absorbed by the more worthy nothingness. "Make a wish!" His hands laid limply in his lap while his gentle eyes slid to a close.
I kept my desperate eyes on him one last second to try to soak in some, just some little amount of his magic before I smiled at the heavens. "Thank you," I mouthed.
The rest of the night was spent doing what we were doing before: hoping and wishing and dreaming into the sky, and chasing false lights of color. We never found anything else. But even one was good enough for his miracle; after all, he deserved no less.