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╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳
PARIS IS NOT as beautiful as it should be.
Just this morning you had picked roses from a flower orchard wide as two football fields, and bought lemons bright as the sun from a smiling street vendor. Just this afternoon you had skipped along cobbled streets, with the blooming bud of a flower tucked behind your ear as you clopped along the stone with jumping heels.
The city just feels too much like him.
You sit atop the edge of a stone balcony overlooking entire mountains of green. The forests below you have dimmed in color with the setting sun and are as dark as the thoughts that swirl through your mind.
Your feet swing into the air. You could swing right off the balcony yourself, body and all. It would mean freedom. Whether or not you could save yourself with the power that lies inside you would be your own choice. Something you, on your own, would finally be able to have full control of.
The air is crisp as ice. You wonder how it is you'll be able to live while knowing he no longer breathes at all.
You stand from the ledge. Hop down from the old, time-worn stone to head back into the small loft the school rented out for you as a transient place of sojourn for this mission.
It smells of books and worn wood as you step inside. The thick scent of yellowed, moth-torn pages spills from a bookshelf standing by an old sofa that lies spread out in the space between your tiny kitchen and living room.
You plop down onto the sofa without bothering to turn the lights on. You try to remember his smile as your eyes close. The only one you can think of is the last one he gave you as he died. The last one you ever had the chance to kiss from his lips.
"Stupid, stupid Sukuna," you whisper, hiding your wet eyes from no one with an arm over your face. "That stupid motherfucker. Hope he was blown to fucking hell."
You sigh out a quiet sob. It feels as if someone shoved shards of glass into your throat and forced you to swallow. His name lives in your mind, along with the rest of him.
A loud buzz vibrates from your kitchen counter. You wipe your tears with numb fingers and stand to grab your phone. Your eyes ache from the darkness as you stare at the bright screen, trying to make out the letters glowing there.
You read the caller ID again. Your eyes widen. The phone rings with more urgency. Your knees nearly buckle beneath you from the shock.
"Who...?" you whisper.
You fall back into the counter as shock spreads through each of your nerves. Your chest throbs. Your heart aches and pounds. Through the darkness you see your hands shake with their hold on the phone.
You swallow. Get a grip of yourself once more, and firmly settle on the notion that it must be some random prankster trying to get ahold of one of Yuji's family members. It can't be him. It could never be him. You had to see him die. Had to watch him bleed out while you held him in your arms and cleaned the dirt from his face. Had to struggle against Megumi as he tried to pull you away from Yuji's lifeless body. Had to dream of the hole in his chest and the way he would never hold you again for days and weeks on end.
