SaiOuma Stories

Blueberry Yogurt

[I don't know what happened to Second to no other. The world said no and then it left, sorry about that. Anyway, back to this make-up-for-it story, ---I was eating blueberry yogurt, then- "Oh hai inspiration"]

When something is healthy, it tends to be bitter.

Wading through endless hours of thoughts, and painful echos of words he can't hear a second time; that sentence, in particular, stands out to him. Alone in his head, floats those simple words. Occupying space once filled with doubts and dreary thoughts that made his eyes water.

He sat alone, swinging subtly on a wooden porch swing. That was slightly damp with morning dew that coated the grass. The morning's sun just hardly shone through the trees that shadowed his little home. Making him shiver in the chilled air, but kept him content as the skin warming rays whittled their way through spring leaves.

His bare feet were grazing the floor beneath him, him being so short, only his toes touched to make the swing occasionally jerk back gently. Giving a little swing to feel the welcoming soft breeze pull by him once again.

Kokichi pulled his little blanket around him tighter. He yawned and sat back all the way, so his toes stopped touching the floor. Only the morning wind coasted by him, rocking him slightly. Truth being he didn't sleep last night, and the exhaustion pulled at his eyes and rotted his skin from the inside out.

Skin, that word provoked aching thoughts. Since it was something that proved to be his weak outer shell. Something he could feel, and puncture, and split. It was soft and rough, it was bruisable and kissable. It was warm and cold, welcoming and... He doesn't know where he was going with that thought.

Maybe it was strange since, well, he's seen things that stir feelings. As everyone knows, blood is trapped behind the skin. A vessel meant to keep his aching heart beating, a torn cell meant to run through each limb and pulse into his throbbing head. Reminding him that it was a power he shouldn't stop.

It's healthy, to keep a steady flow. But it's oh-so bitter.

He's tried to stop it. Especially the insistent rapid- or agonizingly slow- breaths that sometimes heave from his hurt lungs, past his colorless lips and into the air where in winter, he could see it's fog blow away. Much like he wishes his life too. He just wants it to escape his body, and dance away in the wind. Vanishing from thought.

He let his eyes glaze over the aged floorboards below him. Then up to where the clouds were puffy in the sky, that was ever so slowly turning from black- to brilliant oranges, and yellows. Pinks and purples, and soon enough, though it hadn't happened yet, it'll fade to blue.

He let a sigh slip through his lips, tired and full of useless effort.

He doesn't want to live anymore.

Though, that could be a lie. Kokichi swung his dangling legs back and forth. Imagining the sinful picture of his feet floating over a 3000-foot drop. Where he could experience the wind sting his face just a minute before the pavement did.

He blinked. Grimacing as he imagined unsteady sobs stain the air. He's selfish, he'll admit, because he knows so well people love him. People- as in one person.

He heard the door to the house slide open with its old rusty squeak. He didn't need to look to see who was stepping outside. He only lived with a single individual. Which, Kokichi thought as he listened to the careful footfall of his visitor, wasn't single.