Page 10: selfishly friends
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"Why wouldn't we support you? You're our friend, am I not right?"
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The world around them is falling apart, and he can't fail them now.
She's standing there like she's God, and truthfully she already is, having defeated the previous one in a clash of fiery insults and wisps. Her back is turned on him, her flaring orange hair whipping around her in a billowing storm, and her jacket is fluttering around in the licking fire spiralling from below her. The pink laptop from before is nowhere to be found.
"P-Pom! Are you okay?" He shouts over the pouring rain in the midst of the sea of red and black. He sees her, fist clenched and chin up. She remains immobile, seemingly not having heard him.
"POM!" he shouts again, clumsily running over, tripping once in a while. The whirling storm may block his sight of vision, and the sea of red and black may give him the willies, but he isn't going to let his cowardice get the better of him.
This girl's selfishness almost cost Heaven, and no way in hell was he gonna let that Heaven fall to oblivion.
He racked up his courage and turned her around, and he is surprised to see a blank expression plastered on her face. No victory, satisfaction, annoyance, just a clean slate.
'What..?'
"Pom," he positions himself in her line of vision, taking ahold of her shoulders and shaking them roughly, "Look at me."
She says nothing, her eyes glazing over in apathy.
"Pom? Pom? Are you okay?" he shakes harder, and he's practically on her face right now but he doesn't care. Something was wrong and he needed to correct it.
A tear leaks out from her eye, much to the surprise of the blonde man, and she smiles, but it is hollow and dead.
"Well, the world's ending, and it's my fault," she murmurs matter-of-factly, "but, least I get free Wi-Fi, right?" she finishes, the smile on her face growing, yet it remains hollow and sad.
The world is ending, and Pom is so empty, and he doesn't know what to fucking do.
"Pom, snap out of it, you're freaking God already, you could end this," he insists, the light from before swirling in his eyes again as he forces Pom to look at him.
"How? I don't know what to do, and I'm so useless, I never did anything important in my life," she muttered, bowing her head in shame, yet that plastic smile never leaving her face.
He bit his lower lip. He couldn't deny that fact, it was truth anyway, but...
"You may have done nothing before, but, you could do something now," he retorts fiercely, tears leaking out of his eyes. The world's collapsing around their persons and Pom may be so hollow and empty and it's seemingly hopeless but he doesn't care because he still wants to exist, even if he's in the afterlife, and he wants to hang out with his newly made friends and maybe... maybe... Pom can just, be truly happy, for once.
"You're God, for Christ's sake, Pom! Must I repeat it? YOU ARE GOD-"
"I GET IT, STUPID SHIBE!" she screams out of the blue, shocking the blonde and she averts her gaze as she raises her head, in a mess of snot and tears and conflicted emotions. She grits her teeth angrily and she clenches her fists, yet she remains rooted to her spot.
"SO WHAT IF I'M GOD?! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, THAT DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING! I'M JUST A TUMBLR-OBSESSED TEENAGER WITH ANGER ISSUES AND LARGE INSECURITIES AND NOW THE WORLD'S BEING DESTORYED AS WE SPEAK BECAUSE I WAS A SHITTY SELFISH BRAT WHO ONLY WANTED WI-FI!"
She finishes her rant, panting and out of breath. Her blazing eyes remain angry, but he could tell she was just confused and scared.
"Prove yourself wrong."
She froze, eyes widening in surprise and mouth slack.
"H-Huh?"
"I said," he clarified, as he neared her figure, and despite the flames swirling around her, he gently patted her head in an affectionate manner, "prove yourself wrong. You're not a selfish brat, and you can prove yourself wrong by stopping your crying and fix this mess. It doesn't have to be like this. I know you love your Wi-Fi, but, this isn't the only way."
He softly smiles and ruffles her hair, freezing the girl to the spot. She blinks slowly, then a genuine smile makes its way to her face.
"You really are an idiot, Shibe..." she murmurs, hugging him tightly, earning her a cry of surprise, and a relucantly returned hug.
He lets go of the sniffing girl and smiles with determination flashing in his eyes.
"Now let's clean up this mess, God."
She retaliates with a shit-eating grin.
"Why not, Sebastian?"
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And now the series of compositions draws itself to a close, the crafted ensembles halting to a stop. In behalf of our composer we grant thee a warm farewell, and your ear is much appreciated.
We have finally made our voices heard, and we give you our most sincere gratitude.
'Til then, farewell, dear audience.
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YOU ARE READING
staccatos and mangled melodies
Short Story—and thus, these are the heartfelt compositions of a demented composer whose mentality may or may not be slightly skewed. she feels the rhythm, she hears the harmony, and she sees the notes. you, oh dear audience, play a vital role in this fantastic...
