Flimsy, Breakable Things

"Hello Mister Piro-San. Just those, please." Her painted black fingers gestured to two books in front of her from a series she loved. At one point she would have avoided this store at all costs, considering his absolute ignorance of her affection for him, but, all had changed. Ruby red lips twisted upwards into a bazaar smile, the deep wine red that Miho had picked out for her, as Piro looked at the book.
"Yuki-san… I cannot sell this to you. You know that. It's not to be sold to minors…" Boss-san had been very strict about not selling 'Holy Water', he recalled, feeling morally obligated to with hold this rather un-important rule.
"Come now, mister Piro-San, you wouldn't want Erika finding out about your little school-girl fixation…" she paused for a second. "I wonder if fixation isn't the right word… normally it means to be fixated on an object. But you see us as objects anyway, don't you? It's the perfect word." The change purse opened with a 'click', and the purchase was paid for without any more questions.
"Would you like a bag?" He asked softly, his lips not able to form around the word 'bag', again thrown off by the young girl, although this time not out of being shy. She was intimidating, cold, and heartless.
"No. I'll carry it out. I'm not afraid of what I like…" It was obvious he did not like her being there. It was obvious he wanted her to go away. It was obvious that she didn't care. It was obvious she didn't care if he died. "Piro… at first I thought I loved you. Then I thought I needed to like myself first, before I could. You ignored me still. Then I thought I wasn't beautiful enough for you. Now I realize, I was just in love with a pathetic version of myself. You are my pathetic mirror image. Worthless, pathetic, a frail reflection of those around you. Nothing but dull black, it's no surprise Miho loved you, it's impossible to manipulate nothingness. I hope you have a good time, Piro, with your nothing life, I hope you have fun, Piro, dragging down your beloved, have fun. You'll never be anything but dead weight." With that, she picked up her books, and made her way out of the door. She wanted to take that pathetic man down, crush him, ruin him, become on top, and do it again. There was a small click-click from her heels, echoing on the ground beneath her, sounding like a ticking time bomb to a glorious explosion. The day couldn't be soon enough.

I haven't written in so long... I like the idea of the gothic Yuki, it grabbed me and shook me a bit. Still have the bruises

Code is poetry. Valid XHTML and CSS.

All content copyright their respective authors | Bug squashing by Skuld-sama | Graciously hosted by _Quinn ­ | cwdb codebase by Alan J Castonguay

Megatokyo Writer's Archive