HREChibi. Hetaverse. Written for the 100 themes challenge: Memory.
He is dying, he knows it. Each beat of his heart drives out more of his life's blood to soak the deserted battlefield, and each breath seems to draw less oxygen from the air. He is drowning beneath the dark grey sky hung with clouds and rain. The droplets are drumming out a funeral march on his tired flesh, gently rinsing away the blood and grime. The heavens are mourning him.
Pale eyelids grow heavy, further darkening the crying sky. He can taste something salty and wet, mingling with the overpowering flavor of blood. His eyes are warm, but his body is cold. So cold.
Between gasps, he sees her: face scrunched and shoulders shaking. The tears on his cheeks are not his, but hers. The sky is raining her sorrow.
He remembers his promise – his stupid, selfish promise – and his heart breaks for her. He had given her false hope, he had bound her with a naïve confession of love , he had made her a prisoner of his affection. Now, his heart is like his promise: shattered into a billion jagged shards. His cheeks are warm and salty. She is crying for his broken heart. Sapphire eyes fade.
The sun is shining through the falling darkness, its gentle heat steading his quivering limbs. She is standing before him, her copper hair floating on the sweet-scented breeze. Above them, the sky is hopeful and blue. Her lips are warm. Here, too, she is crying. Here, too, her tears mingle down his cheeks. Here, too, his heart is breaking as he is, once again, forced to leave her behind.