Hisashi stood in the middle of a quiet field. Flowerless Sakura trees framed the edges, blocking from view all that lies beyond it. The sky was dark but the field seemed illuminated, almost like it was day.
The ground was a thick carpet of white softness.
The soft scent of frosted rain and summer-ripe lemons teased his nose. A soft, comfortable warmth embraced his body even thought he could see his breath forming before him in icy puffs. Hisashi’s ears picked up the soft barely recognizable strains of “Beloved” in the distance. He almost couldn’t hear but he could feel every note vibrate in his very bones.
Softly but surely, it began to snow.
All around him tiny flakes of pure white danced their way across the sky towards their tragic end. They came down in pairs. The pure innocence of untainted love would meet it’s untimely demised against the now graying slush. The silent white lovers floated around each other without touching, never able to express their love for each other until it was too late. Two halves of a soul could never be together. Fruitless was their intricate courtship.
Tears filled Hisashi’s eyes as he watched helplessly at the pains of unrequited love symbolized by doomed pairs of the purest entity. His tears did not fall. No sooner had they been shed they would crystallize and form little rivers of ice down his cheek.
Thus, he could not mourn for their loss.
A silent cry worked his way up his throat but never it escaped. He could not even warn them or their evident misfortune.
Hisashi trusted his hands out towards the throngs of white lovers in desperation. His one last hopeless attempt to bring together and reconcile at least one pair. To prove to himself that ‘his love’ was not a wasted emotion, a passing phrase.
He needed a sign to make the fire that burned within him right. It was wrong but it felt so right.
He was not succeeding.
More and more of the dancing pairs slipped pass his pathetic fingers. Indescribable sorrow filled his aching heart for he knew of no way to save them. He was worthless.
He could not rescue love.
He did not deserve to.
His body raking with voiceless sobs, Hisashi fell to his knees. The gray slush seeping through his pants as he pounds his fists angrily against the ground. He is frustrated with his own uselessness. He was slowly being engulfed in his own misery.
More tears flowed unbridled from his watery brown orbs. Soon he sees nothing for the bitter frost has frozen his long lashes shut. He feels himself sinking further and further into the graying abyss. His body growing colder with every dying pair.
All hope was lost.
A pair of warm hands, strong hands, suddenly lifted him out of slush effortlessly. His body went limp in its comforting touch. Tentative fingers brushed across his cheeks and eyes, releasing them from their icy prison. His vision searched for the face of his saviour.
He saw nothing for the light was behind the gracious one and all that was visible was the soft outline of his tall figure. Another tear escaped and made it’s way down his cheek.
The angel reached forward and captured that lone tear with his fingertips. It was the barest of touches, like a faint whisper in the black of the night…
***Tsuzuku***