I haven’t written anything in a long while. I hope that you like this one. I figured that Saionji owed Wakaba.
She wanted so badly to sleep right now. He was there, gently sitting by her bed and she didn’t want to look at him. If she did she feared that the midnight black with burnt, sooty edges would rush back into her heart, choking everything else but rage. And she feared what she might do to him, anything to make him stay, to make him hers.
Her memories of the day were mostly cloudy and half formed, butterflies and leaves delicately framed in the darkness and stinging, precision point pain in her heart. Stairways and rooms, screams and swords. She had remembered his scream quite clearly and wondered if her felt the same black pain in his heart as she lied him down on her floor. When she looked at him laying there, forest dark lashes almost reaching his cheeks, breath soft and slight, she realized that she has to make him hers more than ever. Saionji could be stolen from her, stolen by that witch/bitch girl who wore the leaf gift with such calmness as she passed Wakaba by, as if it belonged to her by nature. Wakaba would kill her.
Wakaba had wanted Saionji. An unattainable, impossible sliver of light secreted away in her room. Her secret. His hair almost as dark green as black, his skin as marble pale as moonlight, he brightened that little corner where he waited for her. His mood heavier than midnight, his presence breathed into Wakaba’s heart a piece of his specialness. For a while Saionji had needed her.
To show his appreciation he had made her a gift. His little carved piece of wood was richer for her than any promised star or flawless jewel and she wept when his moonlight pale hand pressed it to her temple. He had touched her. Saionji has appreciated her.
But then not many hours later he had asked about the witch/bitch. That girl was dangerous, she was already stealing Wakaba’s girl prince and still held her spell over her sliver of brightness. She would steal him and Saionji would go to her. Go to her and forget all about Wakaba.
Wakaba hazily thought that she had fought to keep him, she could have sworn that she had almost killed the witch/bitch, so very close to ridding herself of that blood red clad thief cowering behind the protection of the girl prince….just an easy slash of his sword and……
But Wakaba had lost. She remembered nothing else.
He was still waiting for her, hiding when she was placed on her bed to “recuperate from the fainting spell” and sitting patiently, watching her sleep. He had never told her if he remembered his own scream.
When Wakaba had opened her eyes she had noticed two things, that it was now night time and Saionji had worn his old uniform. He was finally leaving and there was nothing that she could do to stop it, to keep her little room from going totally dark, his brightness taken away. She closed her eyes and voiced her screams of pain inside. Did she honestly think that he would stay forever? Wakaba wouldn’t look at him, he was going away, her mind was full of wooden leaves, a million of them burning and sparkling as they turned into ashes in the blood red dress flames…….
“I…..something happened to your gift.”
“I don’t have it anymore.”
“Please let me sleep, Saionji.” (I can’t bear to look at you, you’re going and you’ll take everything that you gave me with you, do you even know what you gave me……)
“I can give you something else if you like.”
“What is it, Saionji?” (I wanted for you so much to be mine.)
“Wakaba, please look at me.”
She turned to look, her throat frozen and pained. Her mouth opened just barely when she saw him.
Saionji’s skin was almost luminescent in the dark, a light all its own, his cheeks flush a slight rose. The uniform was gone.
“You can have my gift if you want it, Wakaba.”