Seventh Heaven chapter 8
Disclaimer: Nope, don’t own anything but I’m itching to put my hands in the DVD from Kalafina’s live at JCB Hall (that got out last week). One of these days... *sighs*
Chapter Eight - Kizuato (Scar)
It was a calm night.
Outside, only a small breeze cut the silence, but sometimes the calm was broken by the natural sounds of the night like a cat passing by or a dog howling in the distance.
All in all, these sounds weren’t enough to break the heavy silence that enveloped Gray’s house. No light was on, there was no movement. He was just locked inside, deep inside, in his room.
Gray was sitting on the windowsill, looking through the window. To tell the truth he wasn’t seeing anything, immersed in his thoughts. His hands were wringing absentmindedly but he kept looking at the deserted street.
The moon lit the world with its silvery light and that contributed to give a mystic ambiance to the world.
Gray’s eyes caught the shimmer of the river in the far end of the street.
The breeze picked up strength and dragged an echo, words from daytime, words from their last mission. Prophetic words that rang on Gray’s ears.
‘semi selamita ii karia saria salamita
konsta morti adita’
Gray shifted in his seat and looked around.
Nothing.
His hands closed on the bandage that circled his lower torso. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t the right touch. Not the touch he wanted.
Hands balling on his sides, Gray turned his back at the window. His hands were now gripping tightly the stone ledge.
He raked a hand through his hair as he sighed, stopping mid-movement as he felt it. The scar on his forehead.
Hidden from the world and only with the empty bedroom to witness, a single tear slid down Gray’s cheek and dropped to the floor with a noise that, in the silence, seemed like a thunder.
A distant ache had Gray passing his hand through the bandage again. When he noticed the crimson color in his fingers (under the moonlight) Gray got himself together again, the back of the stained hand brushing off the wet path. He should get up and redress the bandage, after all, the wound seemed to have reopened.
Shaking his head slightly, Gray resumed his prior position, staring at the outside once again. A small flower was bathed by moonlight and appeared to be shinning on the windowsill of one of the opposite houses and that caught his attention for moments. Gray rubbed his hands on his pants, trying to make the clammy feeling go away. It didn’t go.
Then he had to lean forward as the wall made his skin feel cold in an unpleasant way. Putting his head in his hands, he wondered how it had come to this. Where was his happiness? Had it all been a dream? As fickle as the stardust from a shooting star?
With a disbelieving shake of his head to his inexistent audience Gray let himself ask the question.
Where was Natsu?
Where was he? How was he?
It was not like him to take so long without giving some sort of sign. But no, no village had been destroyed by him in the last three weeks or any of the usual things that showed that had been there had appeared. It was as if Natsu had disappeared from this plane of existence.
He shouldn’t be gone. Natsu should be here, with Gray, where he could touch him and lock him in a tender embrace, protecting him.
More eerie words bounced in the room, making Gray flinch.
‘arta vista’
The mirror from their last mission had been right, after all. It had been from that moment on that their paths had started to go in different directions. But it wasn’t fair!
Why now, when he had finally felt and welcomed the warmth into his life? Why did it go away?
Was Gray that unworthy of feeling happiness in the depths of his being?
He had felt it once and now he had to resign himself with living with the memories and the longing?
Was he going to spend the nights like this, in uncertainty, sadness, missing what he once had?
Deep inside the words resonated, answering his unasked questions.
‘mistia kanta
konsta morti adita’
Gray closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No, it couldn’t be like that. His hand came up to rest where his necklace usually was. A small smile came to his lips. At least he had something from Gray with him… The whole conversation for that exchange had been silly but in the end Natsu had taken the necklace with him in his mission, well hidden under the scarf as his own scar was. They didn’t like to talk about the scars, they held far too unpleasant memories to let them go (even if Gray’s own had had a happy ending and offered closure, all the pain from before was still there and that didn’t mean that it hurt less…). The scars were a symbol to remember and forever regret. And they were also a sign that locked everything from that darkness.
Unexpected noise startled Gray from his thoughts, looking back he watched rain fall, rain in a summer night. That brought memories… Memories that spoke of trust, belief and the forging of an almost unbreakable bond.
And these thoughts were bringing more unwanted moisture to his eyes…
What was wrong with him? Since when did Gray Fullbuster become a crybaby?
This was not him.
But the memories kept playing in his mind. Everything that had happened was engraved deeply inside, at the moment it didn’t matter if they were happy moments or sad ones. All of them were there to remind him of the moment in which he had been happy, and that was almost to the point of making him feel that Natsu was there with him.
Illusions, they were all illusions…
Did that mean that all of this was an illusion? Smaller than the moment in which the stardust disappeared and another light took its place?
Gray needed a cigarette.
He got up and started to pace, restlessly. Some curses were half-muttered to the still air of the room.
It was in times like these that he really cursed giving up smoking. There were many reasons for him to have stopped - and logical ones - that was for sure. But right now he needed a smoke. He needed something, anything. But that something wasn’t anything. He needed Natsu. The dumbass, childish, annoying Dragonslayer. He needed him there to look at him, at his eyes and see the truth. To feel and taste the kisses, to be sure.
He needed a proof that he had been loved, cherished and only Natsu could give that to him.
But he wasn’t there.
Gray brought his knees up and let his head rest in them. His broken plea pierced the room.
“Please.”
Unfortunately, the stillness that answered him only made him let go of a choked sob.
“Please.” He repeated.
This couldn’t be it. Was this the kind of life that he was going to have from now on?
He stormed out of the room with a sudden burst of rage at the situation. This meant that life was going to be like a perpetual night, the daybreak so far that it felt like he never had seen one.
He wanted to do something, to break things but something made him return to the room, sit again by the window. He looked at the, once again, starry sky, hoping to see a shooting star, hoping for his wish to be true, to become reality.
That was the only thing that helped him, the sliver of hope at his return was the only thing that made him have the strength to pass the nights.
He leaned his forehead on the cold glass of the window and murmured, “So be it,” eyes closed.
On his ear the voice whispered once again.
‘mistia kanta’
He could only hope.
A/N: Here we have it, a new chapter. I was quite excited writing this one because this song has started to have a different meaning to me. In fact, this whole exercise is making me have a different look and appreciate the songs even more… The chapter should be angstier but unfortunately it didn’t come out that way. Meh, was a clean and easy chapter. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.
Chapter Eight - Kizuato (Scar)
It was a calm night.
Outside, only a small breeze cut the silence, but sometimes the calm was broken by the natural sounds of the night like a cat passing by or a dog howling in the distance.
All in all, these sounds weren’t enough to break the heavy silence that enveloped Gray’s house. No light was on, there was no movement. He was just locked inside, deep inside, in his room.
Gray was sitting on the windowsill, looking through the window. To tell the truth he wasn’t seeing anything, immersed in his thoughts. His hands were wringing absentmindedly but he kept looking at the deserted street.
The moon lit the world with its silvery light and that contributed to give a mystic ambiance to the world.
Gray’s eyes caught the shimmer of the river in the far end of the street.
The breeze picked up strength and dragged an echo, words from daytime, words from their last mission. Prophetic words that rang on Gray’s ears.
‘semi selamita ii karia saria salamita
konsta morti adita’
Gray shifted in his seat and looked around.
Nothing.
His hands closed on the bandage that circled his lower torso. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t the right touch. Not the touch he wanted.
Hands balling on his sides, Gray turned his back at the window. His hands were now gripping tightly the stone ledge.
He raked a hand through his hair as he sighed, stopping mid-movement as he felt it. The scar on his forehead.
Hidden from the world and only with the empty bedroom to witness, a single tear slid down Gray’s cheek and dropped to the floor with a noise that, in the silence, seemed like a thunder.
A distant ache had Gray passing his hand through the bandage again. When he noticed the crimson color in his fingers (under the moonlight) Gray got himself together again, the back of the stained hand brushing off the wet path. He should get up and redress the bandage, after all, the wound seemed to have reopened.
Shaking his head slightly, Gray resumed his prior position, staring at the outside once again. A small flower was bathed by moonlight and appeared to be shinning on the windowsill of one of the opposite houses and that caught his attention for moments. Gray rubbed his hands on his pants, trying to make the clammy feeling go away. It didn’t go.
Then he had to lean forward as the wall made his skin feel cold in an unpleasant way. Putting his head in his hands, he wondered how it had come to this. Where was his happiness? Had it all been a dream? As fickle as the stardust from a shooting star?
With a disbelieving shake of his head to his inexistent audience Gray let himself ask the question.
Where was Natsu?
Where was he? How was he?
It was not like him to take so long without giving some sort of sign. But no, no village had been destroyed by him in the last three weeks or any of the usual things that showed that had been there had appeared. It was as if Natsu had disappeared from this plane of existence.
He shouldn’t be gone. Natsu should be here, with Gray, where he could touch him and lock him in a tender embrace, protecting him.
More eerie words bounced in the room, making Gray flinch.
‘arta vista’
The mirror from their last mission had been right, after all. It had been from that moment on that their paths had started to go in different directions. But it wasn’t fair!
Why now, when he had finally felt and welcomed the warmth into his life? Why did it go away?
Was Gray that unworthy of feeling happiness in the depths of his being?
He had felt it once and now he had to resign himself with living with the memories and the longing?
Was he going to spend the nights like this, in uncertainty, sadness, missing what he once had?
Deep inside the words resonated, answering his unasked questions.
‘mistia kanta
konsta morti adita’
Gray closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No, it couldn’t be like that. His hand came up to rest where his necklace usually was. A small smile came to his lips. At least he had something from Gray with him… The whole conversation for that exchange had been silly but in the end Natsu had taken the necklace with him in his mission, well hidden under the scarf as his own scar was. They didn’t like to talk about the scars, they held far too unpleasant memories to let them go (even if Gray’s own had had a happy ending and offered closure, all the pain from before was still there and that didn’t mean that it hurt less…). The scars were a symbol to remember and forever regret. And they were also a sign that locked everything from that darkness.
Unexpected noise startled Gray from his thoughts, looking back he watched rain fall, rain in a summer night. That brought memories… Memories that spoke of trust, belief and the forging of an almost unbreakable bond.
And these thoughts were bringing more unwanted moisture to his eyes…
What was wrong with him? Since when did Gray Fullbuster become a crybaby?
This was not him.
But the memories kept playing in his mind. Everything that had happened was engraved deeply inside, at the moment it didn’t matter if they were happy moments or sad ones. All of them were there to remind him of the moment in which he had been happy, and that was almost to the point of making him feel that Natsu was there with him.
Illusions, they were all illusions…
Did that mean that all of this was an illusion? Smaller than the moment in which the stardust disappeared and another light took its place?
Gray needed a cigarette.
He got up and started to pace, restlessly. Some curses were half-muttered to the still air of the room.
It was in times like these that he really cursed giving up smoking. There were many reasons for him to have stopped - and logical ones - that was for sure. But right now he needed a smoke. He needed something, anything. But that something wasn’t anything. He needed Natsu. The dumbass, childish, annoying Dragonslayer. He needed him there to look at him, at his eyes and see the truth. To feel and taste the kisses, to be sure.
He needed a proof that he had been loved, cherished and only Natsu could give that to him.
But he wasn’t there.
Gray brought his knees up and let his head rest in them. His broken plea pierced the room.
“Please.”
Unfortunately, the stillness that answered him only made him let go of a choked sob.
“Please.” He repeated.
This couldn’t be it. Was this the kind of life that he was going to have from now on?
He stormed out of the room with a sudden burst of rage at the situation. This meant that life was going to be like a perpetual night, the daybreak so far that it felt like he never had seen one.
He wanted to do something, to break things but something made him return to the room, sit again by the window. He looked at the, once again, starry sky, hoping to see a shooting star, hoping for his wish to be true, to become reality.
That was the only thing that helped him, the sliver of hope at his return was the only thing that made him have the strength to pass the nights.
He leaned his forehead on the cold glass of the window and murmured, “So be it,” eyes closed.
On his ear the voice whispered once again.
‘mistia kanta’
He could only hope.
A/N: Here we have it, a new chapter. I was quite excited writing this one because this song has started to have a different meaning to me. In fact, this whole exercise is making me have a different look and appreciate the songs even more… The chapter should be angstier but unfortunately it didn’t come out that way. Meh, was a clean and easy chapter. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.