∞༺✦ 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 ✦༻✧ (amanene)

𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..o○ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫 ○o..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The ballroom bustled with guests, family and friends, royals from near and far. Their voices were muffled, rooms away.

Amane and Yashiro stood on her balcony, overlooking the moon that reflected on the ponds below. A cool breeze passed them by, Yashiro's undone hair flowing gently. They rested their forearms on the balcony edge and stood in comfortable silence. The rose bushes that climbed up the wall was just by them, the red blooms and silver moon aptly romantic.

The music from the ballroom echoed in the otherwise silent atmosphere, par the whistle of the soft blowing wind. Yashiro sighed.

"You know, I never thought my wedding would end up the way it did." Yashiro whispered, her voice almost being carried away by the wind.

Amane looked to her, but she kept her gaze fixated in the moon. "What do you mean?"
"Well..." she hummed, "I always thought I'd fall in love with a handsome prince and have a painting perfect wedding. With my shimmery white dress and crystallised tiara... like a princess should."

Amane stayed quiet.

"But... when I saw you, I pretty much gave up hope of having the wedding I desired." She looked back and caught his eye.
"Oh, I see." Amane looked to the ponds, a little disheartened. "Brutally honest, I see."
"Honest, but not brutal."
"Yeah right."
"I'm telling the truth!" Yashiro looked at Amane with a feigned annoyed glare.
Amane laughed, "okay, okay. Whatever you say, princess."

Yashiro sighed and looked back at the moon, and continued with her story. "I was right. I didn't get my ideal wedding, with my shimmery white dress. I didn't get a handsome prince on the back of a white stallion coming to save me from my tragic life of princessery."

"But my ideal wedding was never perfect. Life isn't a story book, and I realise that now." She sighed. "And I'm glad. Story books aren't real. I'm never going to get the ideal romance. That's because there is no such thing."

Amane hesitated. "Come again?"

"The only thing that exists is true romance. Raw, real romance. And I'd much rather have that over the ideal romance books portray. I'd rather have a stupid prince who thinks throwing wine over himself is a good idea." Yashiro turned her body and traced a hand over the wine stain that was illuminated by the moonlight. "Don't you agree?"
"Really?" He spoke, hushed and almost silent.
"Mhm. As stupid as you are, Amane, you're better than any prince I ever could've wished for. Because you're real. And I love you for that. I don't love your stupidity, though." She giggled.

Even under the silver light of the moon, Yashiro's eyes still glowed their magenta tone, stars reflecting in her glazed orbs like flecks of glitter.

"You know what?" Amane whispered, "I must say the same."

Amane traced a hand down Yashiro's arm and pulled her into a softly initiated kiss, their only witness being the moon and stars, shining down upon them. The ballroom music seemed to flood to where they stood, their ears being filled with the soft melody of the muffled music.

Amane held her hand, bringing the other up to cup her jaw. It was just like the first time they'd kissed, albeit softer this time. They still felt that love pass through their lips, though now, they weren't afraid to vocalise it.

Amane pulled away gently, opening his eyes to meet the pink ones gazing back at him.

Simply him, her, and the moon. The wedding bands on their fingers reflected the stars above.

"Yashiro..." Amane whispered.
"Hm?"
"Would you... care to dance?"
Yashiro let out a soft chuckle. "You're so cheesy."
"That's your husband you're talking to."
"Oh, shut up."

But, she took Amane's hand in her own with her lips curled into a soft smile. Slowly, together, they started swaying to the quietened music from the ballroom, far away. Yashiro couldn't wipe that damn smile off her face, and it was proving to be quite contagious. Amane too began to smile, as they began to sway further to the music.

They were in their own little world. Just Amane and Yashiro, hand in hand, swaying to the music that played on in the background of their minds. Just Amane and Yashiro, together, gazing at each other with love written all over their faces.

A quiet giggle slipped from Yashiro's cherry lips.
"What's so funny?" Amane asked.
"Oh, nothing." Yashiro smiled, dropping her head to rest on Amane's collarbone.
"Go on." He coaxed, fostering a matching smile.

"It's just... isn't this weird? You know. This? Being together in this way... it's just weird. The first day we met we were practically at each other's throats, arguing all day every day. Even the first dance we had was a competitive one." She sighed. "And now, here we are. Dancing again, but this time, we're dancing together."

"Hmm, I see." Amane agreed. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Me neither."

It was true. They'd changed over time. From vicious shouting matches and sideways glares to stolen kisses and soft spoken 'I love you's. Both Amane and Yashiro had changed over time. They changed together. Hand in hand, hearts each devoted.

They swayed gently to the music. Yashiro looked back up at Amane, who had gently dusted cheeks, visibly pink under the moonlight. She too was in the same boat, her cheeks flushed and warm. Oh, how they loved each other.

Soon enough, their lips were once again connected. Yashiro brought her arms up to drape over Amane's shoulders as their kiss deepened, the taste of mild wine and cherries lacing their tongues. They tilted their heads and held each other in a warm embrace, the cold wind flying by them having no effect on the warmth of each other.

Yashiro pulled away this time, with a soft pop. She looked up at Amane with red lips, before dropping her head back to rest on his collarbone. They both smiled and continued to sway.

Yashiro smiled into the fabric of his shirt. She was happy, with her prince, at long last. Their whispered voices slipped from their lips, almost like wisps of smoke.

"I love you, Amane."
"I love you too, Nene."

And so, Amane and Yashiro's story finally comes to a close, as every fairytale does.

As that was simply all it was.

Their fairytale.

‧·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

The end.

‧·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊