Author's Note
A short drabble about an apathetic Anemone's thoughts on Dominic, anemones, hope and her own existence. I'm experimenting with different styles of writing, so bear with me!
Disclaimer
I don't own Eureka Seven.
Just a Toy
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Despite of what others must think when they witnessed them together on a particularly bad day, it wasn't as if she hated him. But she didn't like him either. Rather, she was indifferent – completely neutral – to his existence. He was just a toy, a useless thing given to her by Dewey to amuse and be abused at her will.
That was how it was:
Nothing less and definitely, definitely nothing more.
He was a toy.
Just a toy.
Her toy.
But then he had given her those blasted flowers.
Anemones.
Symbols of dying hope.
Reminders of her failure to destroy the enemy LFO.
Reminders of how she was failing Dewey.
Dominic insisted that he hadn't known what they were or what they meant and that he had picked them because he thought that they were pretty.
She believed him.
This was the kind of harmless ignorance that she had come to expect from him and hadn't she been so weighed down by the burdens of repetitive failure, and her mind so clouded with pain, medication and humiliation, she might have smirked at his embarrassing incompetence.
But she was beginning to feel so, so tired.
And even if she bothered to explain things to him, it wasn't like he could ever understand how—
No, that was impossible.
After all, what did he know?
He was just a stupid toy.