Mizuki Sayeko had never been fond of the whole 'soulmates' concept, not when her past warned her of the side-effects of falling too deep into the lucid, hypnotising trap. With piercing gazes, a stone-cold heart, would her soulmates ever get through...
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HOUR AFTER HOUR, all night long, the patter of the rain rained down. All night long, as Mizuki tossed and turned, its cold monotony pulsated against the windows. A gust of wind occasionally whipped overhead, and the rain would wave with the sound, passing its quick hands over the panes; at other times there was a muffled sound that lulled everything to sleep in the dead exterior. Her soul, as always, was painfully conscious of the world. The day, like happiness, kept procrastinating— indifferently, it seemed. Waves of desperation and loneliness crashed against the shore in her mind, over and over again. Mizuki recognised the waves, remaining on the beach for many, many hours, haunted by memories lingering like a softly uttered curse.
She felt so old, so awfully old and worn, yet so young all at once, raw as an open wound, torn by an anguish that never quite left her, no matter what happened, no matter where she was, no matter who she surrounded herself with.
Grief slept on her bed, snuggled cosily in the vacant spot beside her, seeping into the empty spaces, and into her. It watched her fidget and crumble, hovering over her shoulders and caressing her head. Quiet and Greif made quite a pair, actually. They complimented each other. Grief slid its arms around her and refused to let go— grief, an amputation, and hope, an incurable haemophilia. She bled and bled and bled.
Waiting for something, for anyone, to save her.
"Mizuki?" Her aunt's saccharine voice flooded the room, penetrating the silence. "Breakfast is ready."
Akira gazed at her niece's form, buried under thick blankets, facing the window.
A frown tugged at her lips, hearing her dry reply.
"I'll eat later."
Akira watched sorrowfully.
"Okay."
The brunette sighed deeply. Mizuki always told her her brain ran at a million thoughts per second...a hot fucking mess, she called it...the ability to overthink herself into a catastrophe. But what Akira feared most was her heart, because, although her mind could bring shame to any natural disaster mother nature offered, her heart could make it look as if everything was okay, and that was dangerous beyond measure.
Akira feared the day her heart could no longer hold it all in.
Sparing one last glance at the girl, she shut the door gently, slipping her hand into her pocket and retrieving her phone. Dainty fingers typed in her password, pressing on a green app and dialling a newly inputted phone number.
"Hi, Kuroo-kun? This is Akira."
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Heart, what a rare bird you are, what a vindictive creation. Remembering, that's what you forced her to do, that's all she could do; remembering, remembering, remembering—memories so evocative, they brought tears to her eyes. But, alas, Mizuki never let them fall, shutting her lilac-coloured eyes, squeezing them tightly and willing the tears to vanish.
