(no subject)
Whee~ Another ficcie for the RP. o_O I'm certainly writing a lot. Oh well~ Mizumi ficcie this time, but she's not as fun as Keichi. ::sighs:: This means that I'll have to write about Ken next or else, he'll gnaw at my ankles no doubt. ::grumbles about jealous characters::
It was a perfectly normal autumn morning when she woke up. It was slightly chilly and there was the smell of freshly fallen rain when she opened the window.
She couldn’t remember why she had woken up, but it must have been a dream. She couldn’t even remember what the dream was about, only that she had awoke to tears on her pillow. That wasn’t abnormal either.
She had dressed and headed downstairs, the dream already forgotten. There was no use in wasting time on meaningless dreams. Her stepmother was walking down the hall and smiled politely at her when she noticed her presence.
“Good morning.” She said in reply to the smile. Her polite tone equaled the polite smile that her stepmother had given her. There was nothing that implied they were family. They never had been and there never would be.
“Your father wants to speak to you. I was just going to wake you up.” It was a casual statement, but it was certainly surprising. Her father wanted to talk.
“I’ll go see him then.” She replied softly with a nod and continued down the hall towards the kitchen. As she had expected, her father sat at the table with his newspaper folded neatly upon it.
“You wanted to talk to me.” There were no greetings between them and there was no resemblance of family here either. A long time ago, she would have smiled at him and told him good morning, but she wasn’t young anymore. He wasn’t the father she thought he was anymore.
“Yes. I haven’t received your grades for this quarter--“He had begun to say and fell silent when she slid some papers across the table. A slight frown marred his forehead when she only stood there silently. He scanned through the papers, his dark eyes reading quickly. Finally, he nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction.
“Well done, just as I expected from you.” He smiled at her and at some point in the past, she would have happily accepted that smile. She once thought it to be charming, but she knew it was meant to be. She merely nodded.
There was really nothing between them, just trade. She gave him the grades he wanted to see and in return, he provided her with shelter and money. That was all it was, a trade of goods.
“That will be all.” He said when she made no move to leave. He picked up his newspaper and his face disappeared behind the pages. She stared quietly for a moment and left the room.
Perhaps her behavior could be considered hatred, but it wasn’t. She didn’t hate him because, after all, he was her father. She supposed it really wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t loved her mother even if her mother had loved him.
She pulled on her coat and left the place called home. It wasn’t a home. It was just a house that she lived in. There was no love in that house and she didn’t long for it. If love meant having to watch the one you love, love someone else and cause you pain, she didn’t see a point in it.
She didn’t see a point in pretending to love someone either, which was what her father had done to her mother. He had pretended to love her then left her all alone while he went off to have his affairs. He had left them all alone.
She sighed and watched as her breath puffed into the air.
All alone.
She supposed that perhaps her mother hadn’t loved her father all that much if she had decided to get up one day and leave instead of confronting him. Her mother had never confronted him about his affairs. Always, she would just sit at the kitchen table, waiting for his return.
A return that often never came.
Then her mother had left and never returned. Her father hadn’t even been fazed about her departure. He hadn’t offered any comfort to her either.
It was on that day she had realized just how little her parents cared about her.
Perhaps that wasn’t fair to her mother, her mother had loved her. Just not as much as she loved her father and finally being unable to stand not being loved, she had left. Just like that.
Was love supposed to be so fragile and easily broken? She wondered and realized she didn’t know. She had no one to ask.
She decided that she didn’t want to fall in love. If falling in love meant getting hurt over and over again, what was the point of it? What could be so special about a person that one could stand getting hurt over and over for?
She sighed again and searched through her coat pockets until she found her latest reading material. A romance novel, she thought wryly. She didn’t want to fall in love, but she read these novels as if they would give her an idea of what it was like. She doubted it had any truth of the real thing.
It didn’t matter though. She wasn’t going to fall in love anytime soon so she’d go to her bench in the park, read this romance novel and then get a cone of ice cream. That was enough for her, she told herself. She didn’t need anything or anyone else.
Or that’s what she thought.
It was a perfectly normal autumn morning when she woke up. It was slightly chilly and there was the smell of freshly fallen rain when she opened the window.
She couldn’t remember why she had woken up, but it must have been a dream. She couldn’t even remember what the dream was about, only that she had awoke to tears on her pillow. That wasn’t abnormal either.
She had dressed and headed downstairs, the dream already forgotten. There was no use in wasting time on meaningless dreams. Her stepmother was walking down the hall and smiled politely at her when she noticed her presence.
“Good morning.” She said in reply to the smile. Her polite tone equaled the polite smile that her stepmother had given her. There was nothing that implied they were family. They never had been and there never would be.
“Your father wants to speak to you. I was just going to wake you up.” It was a casual statement, but it was certainly surprising. Her father wanted to talk.
“I’ll go see him then.” She replied softly with a nod and continued down the hall towards the kitchen. As she had expected, her father sat at the table with his newspaper folded neatly upon it.
“You wanted to talk to me.” There were no greetings between them and there was no resemblance of family here either. A long time ago, she would have smiled at him and told him good morning, but she wasn’t young anymore. He wasn’t the father she thought he was anymore.
“Yes. I haven’t received your grades for this quarter--“He had begun to say and fell silent when she slid some papers across the table. A slight frown marred his forehead when she only stood there silently. He scanned through the papers, his dark eyes reading quickly. Finally, he nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction.
“Well done, just as I expected from you.” He smiled at her and at some point in the past, she would have happily accepted that smile. She once thought it to be charming, but she knew it was meant to be. She merely nodded.
There was really nothing between them, just trade. She gave him the grades he wanted to see and in return, he provided her with shelter and money. That was all it was, a trade of goods.
“That will be all.” He said when she made no move to leave. He picked up his newspaper and his face disappeared behind the pages. She stared quietly for a moment and left the room.
Perhaps her behavior could be considered hatred, but it wasn’t. She didn’t hate him because, after all, he was her father. She supposed it really wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t loved her mother even if her mother had loved him.
She pulled on her coat and left the place called home. It wasn’t a home. It was just a house that she lived in. There was no love in that house and she didn’t long for it. If love meant having to watch the one you love, love someone else and cause you pain, she didn’t see a point in it.
She didn’t see a point in pretending to love someone either, which was what her father had done to her mother. He had pretended to love her then left her all alone while he went off to have his affairs. He had left them all alone.
She sighed and watched as her breath puffed into the air.
All alone.
She supposed that perhaps her mother hadn’t loved her father all that much if she had decided to get up one day and leave instead of confronting him. Her mother had never confronted him about his affairs. Always, she would just sit at the kitchen table, waiting for his return.
A return that often never came.
Then her mother had left and never returned. Her father hadn’t even been fazed about her departure. He hadn’t offered any comfort to her either.
It was on that day she had realized just how little her parents cared about her.
Perhaps that wasn’t fair to her mother, her mother had loved her. Just not as much as she loved her father and finally being unable to stand not being loved, she had left. Just like that.
Was love supposed to be so fragile and easily broken? She wondered and realized she didn’t know. She had no one to ask.
She decided that she didn’t want to fall in love. If falling in love meant getting hurt over and over again, what was the point of it? What could be so special about a person that one could stand getting hurt over and over for?
She sighed again and searched through her coat pockets until she found her latest reading material. A romance novel, she thought wryly. She didn’t want to fall in love, but she read these novels as if they would give her an idea of what it was like. She doubted it had any truth of the real thing.
It didn’t matter though. She wasn’t going to fall in love anytime soon so she’d go to her bench in the park, read this romance novel and then get a cone of ice cream. That was enough for her, she told herself. She didn’t need anything or anyone else.
Or that’s what she thought.