𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 • k. ayato

23

☄. *. ⋆

Under the night, the ashen night, of a billion stars both exploding and living, into the uncertainty of duality that was their shared existence, it was a strong black, deeply soulful in the way all absolute things are. It was the sort of black that brought the silent music of the universe so deeply within one's core.

The dark-haired boy in the winter jacket was holding her head underwater because he was trying to kill her. And she deserved it, she did, and she knew this, and she was ready to die in that wintry water. Because she wanted to hold his hand and trust him with her entire soul and that meant her life was over anyway. She was a grown-up. She knew these things.

She knew how to wield a sword, and she knew how to protect herself, and she also knew that a guardian who was incapable of letting go was a dead one, unless one kept their mouth shut, which was what she didn't do, because she was weak and hallow and it no longer mattered.

She dreaded to admit this but the hardest thing one would have to do in life was to let go of the people they may want to hold onto. But what about him? The years, what did they bring? And was he filled? Was it enough? Would he do all that he did again? In another lifetime, would he keep her head under the water still?

She opened her eyes just a tad. Frost grew over the windows even as the duvet kept her warm. She watched the ice crystals grow for a while, allowing her brain to be empty, content to exist and be. The morning would bring the beauty of the ice for sure, that crunch under the boot and the bold greeting cold air brings. Yet between now and watching her breaths rise as new white-puffed clouds there will be a very cold night.

But it was not the winter that kept her cold, no, she was quite immune to such things because of her vision. It was the emptiness. It was the type of coldness that reached into her bones, as if her heart was a door left wide open to the icy wind, slamming only to open again. The only thing to do was keep moving, keep heading toward home and the steady warmth of the hearth.

She knew this, of course. But it was not so easy.

She furrowed her brows, drawing the duvet closer to her body. She always thought of the battleground as deadly, but Asahi wore blood well for one so gentle, and that was always in his nature - she knew that now.

She noticed how she still called him gentle. Despite the dream she just had of him holding her head under the water, waiting for her to perish.

Today was the night after her father's funeral. She did not attend it publicly. She went there before the main ceremony. And perhaps that was disrespectful and brash as she was the Commissioner's wife, however, she could not find it within herself to care.

This was the first time in her life that she ran away from something.

She closed her eyes once more, only hearing the footsteps of Ayato who was now back from the main ceremony. He was quiet, perhaps under the impression that she was asleep. Of course, she did not mind the tranquillity. She heard him shuffle around for a bit. Get changed. Bathe. And finally, get ready to head to bed.

"Oh? Did I wake you up?" He noticed the slight shake of her eyelids as he sat down on the bed.

[Y/N] opened her eyes, still as drowsy as ever, "I've been awake ever since you came in here. Don't worry," she mumbled, before bringing the duvet over her nose.

Ayato hummed, laying down beside her.

Today was the kind of day even a feather would fall without drifting one way or the other. The grass was straight and silent, the leaves dangled more as if they had been painted there. Should a person be able to feel the beating of the birds' wings - that would have been the only breeze. It was still, utterly still, and utterly quiet. Even now.