#psst there's a (not so) hidden message reblog and tag what it is

[lawlietscaramels]

Married ╾ L

I made the mistake of Thinking.

There are some parts that don't seem very L-ish to me, perhaps because of the perspective I wrote from.

Angst.

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

It was only a little thing.

Lost between the aisle and vows, the rows of empty seats that weren't really rows or seats because does a tree really fall if nobody needs it for timber?, it was only a little thing.

L cut the cake and he gave the first slice to you. It tasted like frosting and unevenly cooked chocolate batter. It was delicious.

L took you home. You failed to consummate. Can you fail, if you don't try? It was only a little thing, of no matter. You were tired. You cuddled instead. Both start with C. Interchangeable. You had a husband. You only had to hold him close.

One year later – just under – and it was winter on the other side of the globe. Summer where you sat, winter where L crouched. It was cold in a big bed alone, but what's to be expected married to a workaholic and you only needed a little thing, that voice call every other week.

Very soon, he returned.

Everything was perfect. It WAS perfect, what a little thing, that capitalisation, but how it changes the meaning. L returned, and because he did, everything was naturally perfect. Meant to be perfect, because you were meant to be. L held you close for a minute. Your husband. You only had to hold him.

Yellow. That was the colour of the cushions you bought together. Yellow. L's favourite colour wasn't yellow. Considering the shade and pattern, it wasn't yours either. But they brightened up the place. Brightened up the mood.

Only at night did the colour sap out with the warmth, dark blue through the house. Dark blue between the two bodies on the bed. Space.

Until death do us part. It's only a little thing. A promise, we will part.

Four more months and four more days. Kisses on the cheek when cooking dinner. Trying to be closer. He scooped you up in his arms one day and took you dancing around the kitchen, held your hand.

Only for a night.

Random, wasn't it? How we met? you asked. Random, wasn't it? How we fell in love?

Everything that seems random, seems chaotic, has pattern and reason when viewed in a big enough frame, he answered, and went back to his ramen. No magic. Only a little thing, that bit of wonder in life. L, do you see the magic? is what you ask, hand left hovering above the paper towels. But L, do you understand me? Do you sympathise? is what you mean.

Verfremdungseffekt, he tells you with a grin, and just laughs when you don't understand.

Even the prosperous inevitably decay said your grandma, sic transit gloria mundi if you had asked L, all that's fair must fade said the writer. Same phrase different words. Same words different phrase?

Regardless, the autumn leaves always begin colourful, dancing in the dusty wedding photos on the mantle, but they fade by the end of the season. Outside the brown leaves crunch, die, are ready for white snow to hide away the misery. A little thing, a leaf. How little in the breeze. It falls off the tree to die. It's only a little thing.

Awake all night. Usually that was L's job but tonight it was yours. Look at his face. His body, curled up in defence. His face, the tightness in his expression even in sleep. Look. How closed off he was. You reached out and brushed his hair. He turned his head away.

No matter. You turned your head away and stared out the window. No magic. No yellow cushions to brighten it up. A cold chill, L's skin, the thin blankets and the air. Winter. Winter where you sat. L was as far away as the summertime. Spring was fair. Autumn was bitter. Winter was dead. Summer had hope. Perhaps you ought have been married in summer. But it was still autumn, the last day, so very close.

Dull. But you had a husband, and you held him close for a night. He gave you the cake. A little thing. Danced with you. But there was dark blue space. A little thing again. Verfremdungseffekt. L, you say and he doesn't stir, L, do you hear me?

Air void of an answer. It was cold. L's skin was cold. There were warm clothes in the cupboard. There were warm cafés in the nighttime. What music was out there tonight?

December. Winter.

A little thing.

You left.

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

tags → @maevearcher @rinneroraito