Stainglass [May 5th] [Himawari; Doumeki/Watanuki/Himawari] [xxxHOLiC]
Title :: Stainglass
Prompt :: May 5th, “there are cracks in the universe” [31_days]
Characters/Pairing :: Himawari; Doumeki/Watanuki/Himawari
Rating :: PG
Warnings :: Post-volume ten.
Wordcount :: 141
Summary :: She knows her skin is stretched just as treacherously thin, the blood beating a brittle staccato beneath; and she knows that it would take only the faintest of touches to release her from this fragile frame, to shatter and trigger such a fall.
In her dreams, the images are superimposed.
She knows her skin is stretched just as treacherously thin, the blood beating a brittle staccato beneath; and she knows that it would take only the faintest of touches to release her from this fragile frame, to shatter and trigger such a fall.
In her dreams, he falls not through a window but only through her own waiting arms, and yet the end result is always still the same.
(She tosses and turns and tries to forget, but there is no escape when your eyes are already oh-so-tightly closed.)
And when she wakes, she can feel the way her own cracks shift against her sheets, her clothes, (memories of bandages and blood-soaked glass); and she is reminded that even if they are piecemeal, they have been patched and welded into something resembling a whole.
Prompt :: May 5th, “there are cracks in the universe” [31_days]
Characters/Pairing :: Himawari; Doumeki/Watanuki/Himawari
Rating :: PG
Warnings :: Post-volume ten.
Wordcount :: 141
Summary :: She knows her skin is stretched just as treacherously thin, the blood beating a brittle staccato beneath; and she knows that it would take only the faintest of touches to release her from this fragile frame, to shatter and trigger such a fall.
In her dreams, the images are superimposed.
She knows her skin is stretched just as treacherously thin, the blood beating a brittle staccato beneath; and she knows that it would take only the faintest of touches to release her from this fragile frame, to shatter and trigger such a fall.
In her dreams, he falls not through a window but only through her own waiting arms, and yet the end result is always still the same.
(She tosses and turns and tries to forget, but there is no escape when your eyes are already oh-so-tightly closed.)
And when she wakes, she can feel the way her own cracks shift against her sheets, her clothes, (memories of bandages and blood-soaked glass); and she is reminded that even if they are piecemeal, they have been patched and welded into something resembling a whole.