𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄

ʚ𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕ɞ

I ordered 3 more coffees after that. And every time I observed the way she put on a sarcastic smile and brought it over to me. I watched the way she moved around, huffing each time her hair fell in front of her face, but not once bothering to tie it up or move it away.

"We're closing in 5 minutes." She stands in front of me, leaning with her arms against my table.

How long have I been here?

"You've been here for an hour, do you need anything else or can I start clearing up?" Her voice is slightly exasperated yet mostly full of exhaustion.

"Just one thing, your name?" She chuckles. "I didn't order a coffee, you don't need my name."

"I'd still like to know it." She holds out her hand towards me and I stare at it confused

"You're supposed to shake it stupid." She sighs,

"My names Y/n."

Y/n.

It's a pretty name I guess.

_

Shiki Fushiguro
1973-2015

Loving mother, dedicated wife. More like deadbeat mother, dead wife, but they wouldn't let me put those words on the gravestone.

She always smoked. Her body consumed more smoke then it did oxygen, her lungs desperate for an ounce of clean air, begging for the slow suicide to stop. But she ignored her lungs, drowned out their needs and suffocated them in heaves of tainted air, she became utterly consumed by the thing she swore never to touch.

I rarely saw her lips unoccupied, whether it be a cigarette, a bottle or the man next door, she so hated the feeling of emptiness that she grasped onto the things that made her feel something.

All it took was a match, a spark, a flame for all the life to leave her eyes, she thrived on consuming the thing that was killing her, one step closer to death with each blow.

I remember the day it all caught up to her, she wasn't really alive anymore, just clinging on to her weakened heart as if everything would be okay if she believed it.

I could never understand her words anymore, each rasp came out incoherent, her vocals speaking out to no one but the devil himself. She grew paler by the day, until she reached a tone so
fair, any stranger would think her dead, but she wasn't dead, just barely breathing.

I miss the memory of the mother I once had, the one I held onto through all the darkness. She used to sing me to sleep, her soft melodies forcing me into slumber. Or when she would read me stories about Prince Charming, enforcing the notion of finding the right girl and cherishing her as my everything forever

Then she died.

It wasn't a shock, I wasn't sad, I was just numb. I didn't cry, no tears were shed, no hearts broken, maybe a subtle raise in my heart rate before it continued back to its steady beat.

I found her, dead in the garden, her body frozen and drenched by the rain. I just sat there. I was 6, I didn't know who to call, not an ambulance, she was already dead so what could they do? Not the police, she was dead not a criminal. I didn't know what to do, so I didn't do anything for a while. I just sat. In the rain.

Everyone thought I was an ungrateful child, they saw a boy at his mothers funeral with not so much as a tear falling from his eye. But the truth was, I mourned her death long before she even passed, she was gone before she ever died.

For three years I clung to my vow, never would I touch a cigarette, never would I light one, never would I follow down the path of my mother.

But I decided, fuck the vow. I was bored, so I tried one and from that day forward nicotine became my oxygen, smoke became my air and cigarettes became my escape.

For the next three nights I never saw the mystery girl in the rain. I followed my normal routine, taking a walk to my bench and unleashing my feelings onto the innocent paper.

"The consummation of my addiction was her demise, the stopping of her heart unknowingly caused the start of the stopping of mine. Each breath I now take is contaminated with the same toxins as hers, killing me slowly, but killing me nonetheless. Entertaining the idea of death, accepting your fate and playing into the hands of the devil gives you control. Maybe I was written to die naturally, a slow deterioration caused by old age, but I craved control so I took it. I lit the cigarette, I invited the poison into my system knowing it would eventually win the game, but for now, it was my turn to roll the dice."

Little did I know, a new player was about to enter the game.

"Pack of cigarettes, actually make that 2."

"Those things will kill ya you know?" The store clerks eyes are scrutinising, judging me as if my life is anything to do with them.

"That's the plan Einstein," I chuck the cash on the counter, "keep the change." I head out the front of the shop and lean against the stone wall outside, cursing myself for wasting yet another pay check.

I rip open the packet, lighting one and dragging it up to my lips. I breath it all in, enjoying the euphoria of toxicity electrifying my veins and fulling my high.

But on my exhale, my eyes meet with the brunette slowly exiting Nanami's .

Y/n.

雨