The Promise (Chapter 4/??)
The Promise (This Chapter: PG-13)
Written by ZB24
Little did Yozora know that that was the last night of sleep she would get for quite some time. When she woke up, the sun was shining softly onto her body and the couch. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting into the light and groaning as she rubbed her eyes.
There is that brief moment that occurs in the mornings: When you don't remember what happened yesterday and you don't know your plans are for today; where everything is calm, serene and perfect for a few small moments.
But, as those moments quickly passed by, the events of yesterday began to rush back into her mind and the sadness landed upon her once more. She sighed, stood upon numb legs, and glided into the kitchen to make herself some toast...
---
She sat on the couch with the small plate and looked at it dismally. Somehow... food didn't seem appetizing today. She sat the plate harshly onto the table and picked up the remote instead. She began flipping through the channels aimlessly when...
Sad news today in the music industry as word has come through that the well admired and respected guitarist Miyavi has passed away. Details of his death are vague and PS Company is currently declining all interviews. Fan across the country, and the world, are spending today in mourning as they prepare for...
She cut the TV off and stared blankly at the wall in front of her. No food, no TV... She let herself be lost in her thoughts: an endless stream of ideas, questions, and keywords floating by...
I should eat something...
No, I'm not hungry.
I wonder why Miyavi didn't talk to me before he died...
I wish he would have told me he was hurting...
I wish I had someone to talk to right now...
Maybe I should call Hiroto?
No... what would I say, "I am sad and I need someone to whine to"?
That's so lame...
I wish Miyavi was here... I wish he hadn't died... I wish I'd been able to speak to him before he died.
More thoughts ran through her mind until her cellphone rang; a distant sound calling her back to the reality. She looked at the little display screen on the outside casing: Ogata Hiroto. She opened the phone slowly and placed it to her ear.
"Hello?" She was amazed at how cautious and quiet her voice was.
"Yozora." It was something like a statment.
"Why the call?" she asked. It wasn't that she didn't want to get a call from him, but she wanted to know what his motive was.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Her own voice sounded detached and cold; as if it was another person speaking.
"Well... I was thinking of dropping by. That is, if you don't mind?"
"No, no... I don't mind." She managed to speak honestly.
"Okay, see in a minute."
"Yeah..."
She closed her phone as Hiroto ended the call and jumped from the couch to wash her face. Maybe a little cold water and soap would wake her up.
---
She patted her face dry and reached into the drawer for her toothbrush. Next to the toothbrush laid the box cutter. The one she had used so many times before during bouts with persistent sadness... She laid the damp hand-towel on the counter and took the cutter into both her hands. She looked at it with distanced eyes; as if it was an old friend who had wronged her; a friend she had then crossed in the street years later.
She put it to the back of the drawer and shuddered as she slammed it shut. She squeezed some toothpaste onto the brush and began to draw the brush against her teeth briskly.
---
Yozora had started cutting in her teens; as the pressures of school and life began to overwhelm her. She would take the blade to her skin in times of disappointment with herself, in who she was.
But she was always practical about it, marring her smooth skin in areas where they could be easily tucked away from judgmental eyes. Bandaging them carefully, coating them in ointment... Under her shit, along her torso, you could find the them... running up and down in peculiar symmetry.
With Miyavi's gentle help, she was able to stop the cutting. She always left the blade in that drawer, though, as a reminder of what she had been and how she didn't want to return to it. But now... she felt like taking it up again, as much as she wanted to keep her word to Miyavi.
"Promise me you won't do it again. You've come so far, now. Promise me you won't hurt yourself again."
"I promise, Miyavi."
---
After spitting the white liquid into the sink, rising her mouth out, taking a brush to her hair, and straightening her clothes; after returning to the couch and letting herself be lost once more in her thoughts; Yozora flinched as the doorbell rang.
She stroked a little more hair out of her face and opened the door. Hiroto waited on the other side. He looked a little "slouchy" in his loose jacket and jeans.
"Hey." He mumbled out.
"H-Hi?" She managed to stutter.
She moved over so that he could come in and he took his shoes off by the door as she fastened the locks.
"Oh yeah, this..." She said, walking over to the coffee table, "I wanted to give this to you."
Hiroto took the small metal object in his hands and looked it over. "This is..?"
"The spare key to this apartment." She stated.
Hiroto looked at her in confusion, "Why would you-"
"Miyavi's instructions." An explanation understood by both of them.
"I see." Hiroto nodded.
As Hiroto slipped the metal slice onto his key-ring, a transfer of power occurred. Whether the involved parties realized it or not, a distant yet familiar entity was smiling upon them in approval.
A/N: I'm sorry for such a late update!! m(_ _)m How many weeks has it been?
In addition to being busy with my life, I had a lot of problems with this chapter. There are a lot of scenes that I wanted to write into this chapter which I had to postpone to future chapters. Factual information wasn't lining up and such... Well anyway, I hoped you enjoyed reading it. I tend to think it's a little awkward. Hopefully the succeeding chapters will be better.
Thanks for reading! Please, please comment if you liked it.
Written by ZB24
Little did Yozora know that that was the last night of sleep she would get for quite some time. When she woke up, the sun was shining softly onto her body and the couch. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting into the light and groaning as she rubbed her eyes.
There is that brief moment that occurs in the mornings: When you don't remember what happened yesterday and you don't know your plans are for today; where everything is calm, serene and perfect for a few small moments.
But, as those moments quickly passed by, the events of yesterday began to rush back into her mind and the sadness landed upon her once more. She sighed, stood upon numb legs, and glided into the kitchen to make herself some toast...
---
She sat on the couch with the small plate and looked at it dismally. Somehow... food didn't seem appetizing today. She sat the plate harshly onto the table and picked up the remote instead. She began flipping through the channels aimlessly when...
Sad news today in the music industry as word has come through that the well admired and respected guitarist Miyavi has passed away. Details of his death are vague and PS Company is currently declining all interviews. Fan across the country, and the world, are spending today in mourning as they prepare for...
She cut the TV off and stared blankly at the wall in front of her. No food, no TV... She let herself be lost in her thoughts: an endless stream of ideas, questions, and keywords floating by...
I should eat something...
No, I'm not hungry.
I wonder why Miyavi didn't talk to me before he died...
I wish he would have told me he was hurting...
I wish I had someone to talk to right now...
Maybe I should call Hiroto?
No... what would I say, "I am sad and I need someone to whine to"?
That's so lame...
I wish Miyavi was here... I wish he hadn't died... I wish I'd been able to speak to him before he died.
More thoughts ran through her mind until her cellphone rang; a distant sound calling her back to the reality. She looked at the little display screen on the outside casing: Ogata Hiroto. She opened the phone slowly and placed it to her ear.
"Hello?" She was amazed at how cautious and quiet her voice was.
"Yozora." It was something like a statment.
"Why the call?" she asked. It wasn't that she didn't want to get a call from him, but she wanted to know what his motive was.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Her own voice sounded detached and cold; as if it was another person speaking.
"Well... I was thinking of dropping by. That is, if you don't mind?"
"No, no... I don't mind." She managed to speak honestly.
"Okay, see in a minute."
"Yeah..."
She closed her phone as Hiroto ended the call and jumped from the couch to wash her face. Maybe a little cold water and soap would wake her up.
---
She patted her face dry and reached into the drawer for her toothbrush. Next to the toothbrush laid the box cutter. The one she had used so many times before during bouts with persistent sadness... She laid the damp hand-towel on the counter and took the cutter into both her hands. She looked at it with distanced eyes; as if it was an old friend who had wronged her; a friend she had then crossed in the street years later.
She put it to the back of the drawer and shuddered as she slammed it shut. She squeezed some toothpaste onto the brush and began to draw the brush against her teeth briskly.
---
Yozora had started cutting in her teens; as the pressures of school and life began to overwhelm her. She would take the blade to her skin in times of disappointment with herself, in who she was.
But she was always practical about it, marring her smooth skin in areas where they could be easily tucked away from judgmental eyes. Bandaging them carefully, coating them in ointment... Under her shit, along her torso, you could find the them... running up and down in peculiar symmetry.
With Miyavi's gentle help, she was able to stop the cutting. She always left the blade in that drawer, though, as a reminder of what she had been and how she didn't want to return to it. But now... she felt like taking it up again, as much as she wanted to keep her word to Miyavi.
"Promise me you won't do it again. You've come so far, now. Promise me you won't hurt yourself again."
"I promise, Miyavi."
---
After spitting the white liquid into the sink, rising her mouth out, taking a brush to her hair, and straightening her clothes; after returning to the couch and letting herself be lost once more in her thoughts; Yozora flinched as the doorbell rang.
She stroked a little more hair out of her face and opened the door. Hiroto waited on the other side. He looked a little "slouchy" in his loose jacket and jeans.
"Hey." He mumbled out.
"H-Hi?" She managed to stutter.
She moved over so that he could come in and he took his shoes off by the door as she fastened the locks.
"Oh yeah, this..." She said, walking over to the coffee table, "I wanted to give this to you."
Hiroto took the small metal object in his hands and looked it over. "This is..?"
"The spare key to this apartment." She stated.
Hiroto looked at her in confusion, "Why would you-"
"Miyavi's instructions." An explanation understood by both of them.
"I see." Hiroto nodded.
As Hiroto slipped the metal slice onto his key-ring, a transfer of power occurred. Whether the involved parties realized it or not, a distant yet familiar entity was smiling upon them in approval.
A/N: I'm sorry for such a late update!! m(_ _)m How many weeks has it been?
In addition to being busy with my life, I had a lot of problems with this chapter. There are a lot of scenes that I wanted to write into this chapter which I had to postpone to future chapters. Factual information wasn't lining up and such... Well anyway, I hoped you enjoyed reading it. I tend to think it's a little awkward. Hopefully the succeeding chapters will be better.
Thanks for reading! Please, please comment if you liked it.