Wish: A gift to Akane
Near was not one to wish. Wishing was useless. Energy and time put into a fictitious prayer that would never ever amount to anything. Or anyone. All the lies told by deceptive adults. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, all lies forged to stir hope in children. The naive are easily mislead.
Disgusting.
Near was not one to wish. When his idol collapsed of cardiac arrest when he was twelve, he would've liked the murderer dead. He would've loved it.
But he didn't wish. Wishing would not bring back the dead.
And he knew this. He knew this the moment he saw His black, charred corpse in that ash-fogged church. He knew this as the world gradually returned, the false god slain, the devil's syndicate martyred. He knew that those blue eyes, always blinded by rage, could never see.
He knew wishing was useless.
And yet... When the bitter taste of chocolate met his lips, why did it hurt so? Why did it always feel like a part of him was broken, irreversable, irreplacable?
Why did he wish so hard that he might fall cold and lifeless on the ground, to finally put his corpse of a body to rest? To never feel that ache in his chest again, ever?
Why did he wish?
He was without an answer.
He yearned to see those cerulean eyes, those eyes he longed for in his dreams. Maybe they would answer him, tell him why he wished.
But,
What kind of idiocy is that?
Near knew that wishes never came true.
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Art by Illy. Gift to Akane who should've had a wonderful birthday, or there will be lots of angry stomping. • 3•)
p.s. I told you I was writing. D: