sing a song.

[moonlitmirror]

In the span of breath there was a girl whose hair rivaled dust and eyes that spoke of the core of soft sunsets. Neither, in the end, would suit. She was a thing of quiet nights and empty alleys; leaking pipes and storefront apartments. But still, it remained.

Yin remained.

Even after that night.

So, in the breath taken inward, she sits on the bench in the park, feet trailing dirt and eyes trickling after. It is dusk, gloom and shadow, and still she is out, without orders and without motive--

A choice made. A choice of her own.

Comments

[messier]

It is new, this request. It is a question he only offers to the rarest exceptions, to watch the night sky with its false stars.

And the reason still remains within himself.

Hei watches as Yin stands. He wonders about the cogs in her mind and then offers her his hand. A choice.

[moonlitmirror]

There is stillness and silence, and there is nothing expected. In the end, it is the simplest of motions that changes that, the most natural of gestures from one made opposite.

Yin goes to walk past Hei, her hand brushing against his as she passes.

[messier]

Yin gives a gesture as good as any, and if Hei is any other, he might chance a smile. Instead, he reaches to grasp her hand as it brushes past and perhaps with more intent than is necessary, the man tugs her toward the path to his apartment.

The reasoning should come as obvious. A formal watch requires a telescope, and Hei is currently empty-handed.

[moonlitmirror]

Yin is pulled along and does nothing to the opposite. She follows, is lead, without a thought otherwise.

This is the first time, she thinks. The first time Hei will show her where he stays. She has known since they were set in this town, but here is when he will choose.

Nakama, she said. Nakama, he had said as well. And he is showing that, in bits and pieces, the further time goes on.

[messier]

This is the first time, he thinks. The first time Yin will be invited into his space as a guest. There is no prior arrangements to consider, no cleaning to attend to. The apartment they arrive at is as empty as the grave.

And it shows, when he opens the front door. Hei peers into the darkness for a beat, before flipping the light switch.

"Wait there," he nods to the single open room.

[moonlitmirror]

If this had been weeks prior, months, or perhaps days, Yin would have done exactly as requested. Moved past the doorway for the door to shut, and stand there, perfectly still.

--Instead she moves inward, quietly shifts to the area used as a kitchen, and touches a well-worn cutting board. The lines are deep, jagged and frayed, and yet all it shows in its remains are a habit, long since perfected. One who cooked for the need and necessity, and would cook from the pleasure of it, given the choice. Her other hand touches the metal of the sink, and it's cool; solid and smooth.

[messier]

The words are less a command as much as a courtesy. Yin could intrude as much as she likes, and Hei would voice no objections. The apartment, as stated, is empty. The items contained within are little more than functional fillers.

Except one. This one he procures from the bedroom fluidly, before slinging the bag over a shoulder. When the man slips back out to the entry way, he finds Yin by the sink, hand touching metal.

"Have you eaten?" is his query, one he forms without conscious thought.

[moonlitmirror]

Her head tilts at the question, without moving her gaze from the metal. She consumes enough to sustain--this has been a function since she was given over to her current purpose. His question is faulty. His question is telling.

She enjoys his question, and it comes as something new. Let it be another in a line of irregularities.

She does not answer in a way clear. "Have you eaten? Hei."