Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Droplets ❯ Droplets ( One-Shot )

Title: Droplets

 

Author: tenshineechan (tenshineechan@yahoo.com)

 

Rating: R

 

Pairing/s: Haru x Kyo

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket. All names, characters and likenesses belong to Natsuki Takaya.

 

Warning: Suicidal themes. Graphic descriptions. May be disturbing.

 

Author's Notes: The pairing is only briefly mentioned and is not the main focus of the story. My intention in the offset was to capture the randomness of thought. This was a strange piece to write considering that I was unnaturally cheerful when I wrote this. Then got all depressed when I reread it.

 

 

**

 

For some strange reason it would always rain on a bad day. It was neither the gentle patter of a light shower nor the quick unbridled fury of a thunderstorm. On bad days it would rain heavily, a constant pounding against the roof. What made it worse was that it could go on for days.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

Each raindrop that fell against the windowpane could be heard in his ears as clearly as the beat of his heart.

 

The heart. The organ that pumped blood throughout his body.

 

His heart. The one that pumped life through his very soul.

 

A face smiling at him from a nest of black and white hair.

 

The one was his anchor, his link to reality. For they shared their fate with darkness as well as each other.

 

They were bound in friendship.

 

Hands clasped one another.

 

Shared the bond of sorrow.

 

Eyes watched as their hearts broke when the `other' embraced `her'.

 

Engaged in lust.

 

A glance full of want and need.

 

And explored their mutual passions.

 

Harsh breathing filled the air as their lips touched. A guttural cry filled the air as skin rubbed enticingly against skin.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

The drops of water broke his reverie as they fell with a splat onto the steel bottom of the sink. He pulled himself up from his seat by the window and moved towards the tap. His limbs felt heavy, so he leaned against the bench to help him along. He could see the faucet bead with water as it began to fall. He watched as it plummeted through the open air, smashing itself apart upon landing then putting some parts of itself back together before traversing down the drain.

 

He giggled. His voice was harsh from lack of use and was utterly devoid of mirth. He focused his eyes on the next drop, the thoughts of his bemused mind beginning to wander.

 

How odd that the water drops could resemble his life. Seemingly untouchable until it cracked under the pressure. Then attempting to put itself back together only to fail and fall into a void of despair.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

His knees gave out beneath him and he slid to the floor, his back flush against the cupboard door. His hands felt damp. Looking down at the frail appendages, he was startled to note that there was water being absorbed into his hands. He tilted his head in confusion. He hadn't touched the water from the tap. He looked around, not knowing the origin of the clear liquid that clung to his hands so.

 

Clammy hands were lifted to his cheeks as he felt something trickle down, his vision blurring his surroundings into a swirl of grey. It was coming from his eyes. Tears. He remembered that it was something that had begun to occur more frequently.

 

But that couldn't be true. He was happy with his life. There shouldn't be any tears to shed. It was a habit that he had cured himself of when he was a child. That was in the past. Done.

 

Abruptly, he moved to stand up. Struggling wildly as he tried to regain his balance. His hands tried to grab hold of something as he fell, bringing down drawers with a resounding crash.

 

Drip.

Drip.

 

Drip.

 

He'd once heard that water can cleanse and fire can purify. His master had said that tears could help purge a person's grief. He had done that too many times to count. Now, he could feel the fire burn him as he felt the sharp sting of steel pass through leaving a scorching crimson trail.

 

His limbs were numb and steadily growing colder, a sharp contrast to the burn he could just barely feel. The dark liquid trickled to puddle around him. He could literally feel his lifeblood flow out of him. If he still had the strength, he would have laughed. A deep roar of a laugh or maybe he would have giggled. Laugh at how he would soon be as hollow in body like he was in spirit.

 

He closed his eyes. He could almost hear the locks click and the door creak open. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

 

Drip.