Ask me if I prefer the event of a falling sky or a breaking Moon.
The Moon's light will shine no more if it broke.
But the sky would not be as blue and joyous if it fell.
I prefer the skyfall.
I will be forever blue with it.
[FRENEMIES TO LOVERS]
£
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"I don't know about you, but I need a drink."
☂
"I will always. Always, love you Y/N."
"NO!" She awoken.
That same stupid dream. At least a little part of it. It's funny. To suffer, then stop suffering. Even though you know you'll suffer again, anyways. "There is no beginning without an end." She would say. Y/N could still hear her voice.
The Moon shined brightly through the window, which was thankfully open. She could hear the sound of cars honking at one another as they drove down the dusty and damp streets. The beads of sweat on her forehead slowly faded away from the light breeze that flowed into her room.
It's been seventeen years. Seventeen years of never aging. Seventeen years of being alone, but not lonely. And seventeen years of never seeing her dear siblings. Maybe it's because of her absence that they don't come looking for her. Or maybe they hate her for leaving. Or maybe they thought she'd died, and her body was hid somewhere nobody would ever find. Yes. That's probably what they think.
In the dark morning, Y/N got up and took a cold shower. As soon as she got out, she looked at herself in the mirror. "Fuck." She murmured. You could say today was just not a good day.
She put on a gray long-sleeve shirt and black jeans. She grabbed her black leather jacket and smoothly slipped it on. She dried her (h/l - hair length) (h/c - hair color) hair, and put on her black beanie. She put on some black eyeshadow, so no one that knew her would recognize her. She put a thin band-aid on her cheek, so that her wound from fighting some drunk on the street would have some coverage.
'Fuck.'
***
"I can't say I don't miss him. All of his stuff is still in the house. I'm not sure how I'll be able to let go of it." The woman said. She stood next to her daughter as she sat on the green bench. Y/N stood across from them.
"I knew your husband, Cindy. He would want you to let go, and move on, and do what's best for you. And for Flora." She says. Cindy looked down to the five-year-old girl who continued drawing in her large notebook, that her father had given her when she was three. She drew the Moon breaking into pieces, and the Earth on fire, and five bodies on the ground. Y/N found this interesting. She found it familiar.
"You're right. I just hope you can forgive me if I fail moving on." She says. Y/N chuckled silently. Flora looked up at Y/N and noticed something in her hands. "What's that?" She asks. She bent down to her height. "This, is a rose. A carving of a rose, actually. You're Dad wanted me to give this to you before he died. He told me to tell you, 'If you ever feel lost, and need me in your grasp, just remember this wooden rose, which represents my memory, and you will never be alone.'" Y/N said. She gave her the figurine. "It's pretty." She says smiling. Her baby fat showing as she gave a small smile. Flora looked up at her. "My daddy's not coming back. Is he?" She asks. The unaged girl gave a sigh. "No. He's not." She says. She gave a sad smile, and stood back up.
