She picked. It was a disgusting, annoying habit; but it couldn't be helped. The long lines of people and colors filtered passed unseeing eyes. Still, she picked. The cold, clammy touch of fries on her fingers felt distant and out of place. Time oozed slowly by, marked only by the dropping temperature of her food, and her thoughts.
It didn't make sense. The past twenty-four hours of her life were set on replay. Even after she'd seen them so many times, it still wouldn't click together. The steady, resounding hope that had fueled her from the beginning was suddenly cut free and sent drifting away in an ocean of uncertainty. They had fought so hard, had overcome so much together. It seemed like every time they found each other, it was only to be lost again the next day.
Still, it would not compute in her head. He had never chosen to stay away before. After the last attacks on the city, it was impossible to leave the apartment without her nearby and the first few dates –their first in this world- had been so…so…
Sadness leaked from her eyes finally. He had never chosen to stay away before. Always, in the past, they had disagreed, they'd fought with each other, they'd found their way through all the problems that had come up. She'd believed so blindly, so trustingly, that her prince would find her, would take care of her. She had wanted so badly to let the dream become real, let the past take over and allow some small measure of comfort against the coming years of trial.
It was hopeless, though. The decades stretched before her like waves, uncountable and constantly shifting. There would be no telling when the end of them would arrive and set her free. She'd been so scared in the beginning. After all, she was never meant to be a fighter. That love that had broken through time and space had been the only thing to keep her from losing it.
And she'd lost it.
It had broken her, at first. Surely, he must be playing some sick joke on her. Mamoru could be cruel if he wished, because part of her would always expect that imperfection from him. She had cried so very much in the beginning. She had binged to fill the aching void, had burned the calories just as quickly in hopes of winning him back. The memory of the first few shattered days haunted her still, filled with facials and makeup and fussing around as if she were still a princess from long ago. The frenzy had ended as quickly as it began.
She picked at the placid fries heartlessly, smearing their starchy stalks in crimson ketchup.
He had changed. Despite all the usual quirks of coffee-binging and studying, something in him at latched on to that pink haired demon spawn that lived in her house. The masquerade was nothing short of humiliating. They clung to each other, they ate together. They even went grocery shopping together. It wasn't bad enough the little brat had uprooted her whole family with a wave of her freaky pet ball. (Because who had a pet ball? Seriously?)
It only led to one singular conclusion, and the audacity of it made her teeth ache.
He'd been brainwashed. Again. By a child, no less. It was a child who had nothing better to do than ruin the lives of everyone around her. A fry squished its juicy guts into the bright red dip as if to accentuate the point.
Well, she could do something about that at least. Last time, she'd used a tiara to the chest.
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AN: Sooooo yeah, a little depressed this week. Two kind of sad stories to share, not one funny one. No worries, the funnies will be back, I promise! Also, anyone know any good writers out there? I have my old favs, but I've read them like a million times in the last twenty years...
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