Softly Through August

Some kind of sad drabble.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Amnesia.

A softly catching melody.

Enchanting and sweet, like the tinkling of bells. It gently thrusts him into madness, tearing through these loose seams of hope as he plunges into another undreamt nightmare.
Another cold place where she exists, but he is not the one she loves.

He wakes up with a pounding headache and the usual feeling of vertigo. The beams of sunlight pouring down on him through the branches of a tree assault his vision as he slowly opens his eyes; it doesn't take long for him to remember how he got here.

That last death was probably the worst he had experienced so far.

Squinting his eyes, Ukyo brings a hand to his head, and when he finds it bare, he turns on his side and retrieves the black hat waiting for him there in the grass. He holds it tightly against his chest like a lover and calmly lays there for a long moment. As the cool air that never seems to match the season gently comes over him, he curls up and thinks that maybe—just maybe—if he pretends that he's dead this time, then this world will believe it's so.

...However, he knows that he is only fooling himself.

The soft green strands of his hair fall over his shoulders as Ukyo pulls the hat over his head and begins to walk.

He's familiar with this particular area because it's one of his many favorite haunts. The wide sky is streaked like a splash of tea, warm peach and rose as the world transitions into evening. It all seems so innocent and normal, he almost wants to believe in it.

It's pointless though, he notes as he wanders near the train tracks. A murder of crows are huddled on the wire of a nearby telephone line. Ukyo places a hand against his forehead to shield his eyes as he watches them caw in unison and sail into the city behind him. He can hear the faint hiss and clack of wheels further down the railway, but he knows it's closer than it seems.

His brows draw together in worry as he hears her footsteps, but he looks to the approaching shadow with a sad smile turning the corners of his mouth.

It's pointless to hope, he has to remind himself again as his hand reaches out to snatch her to safety just before the train abruptly rushes between them. Her face is pale and her eyes are wide as her foot catches on the metal track and she trips unexpectedly. They shine briefly with panic as she pitches across the rails and stumbles before regaining her balance. For just a second, their eyes meet. She stares at him and he feels so incredibly warm and whole with just her attention fixed on him, even if for a moment; it makes something twist inside of him, but he can't quite describe it.

She's so close.

He wants to hold her and feel all her soft curves press against him as they do timelessly in his memory, but he can't. It's an overwhelming need—his fingers flex their grasp. He's entranced by her lips and the abashed, pretty glow to her skin when she gasps softly as he shyly releases his hand.

It's a slow moment for them both, but it's so painfully short for him.

Much too short.

She's safe somehow, she seems to realize, but then it's like she notices something else. Vexation shadows her verdant eyes as she continues to stare at him and Ukyo recognizes it for what it is. He's almost certain, so maybe it's just the twisted, fucked up part of himself wanting to hear her voice when he asks.

"Did he...?" He beings hesitantly, gently, but the lost look on her face is like a dull punch to the stomach. He shakes his head after a moment and looks toward the darkening sky as a gentle wind stirs their hair and the air between them, worrying his lower lip to keep the frustrated tears at bay.

Ukyo warns her to be more careful with an air of calmness he doesn't feel. It's clear that she's still afraid—whether of him or because of the incident, he doesn't know, though it's probably both. Relief swells in his chest when she manages a nod and then hurries away.

He watches her until she turns a corner and then searches for a place within the neighborhood where he can rest. An old abandoned house greets him as he ambles up the driveway in slow strides. He sits on the steps of a white porch and calmly views the sunset to the first break of darkness. He's seen this same sunset a number of times he can't count to—he's never been good at mental math, but he supposes that's beside the point. It's a bad idea for him to be here, he knows, but after seeing her this time he doesn't think he can trust himself outside.

Ukyo digs around in an old tool box to find and place several complicated locks on the door for self-assurance. When he is satisfied, he climbs the stairs to a forgotten bedroom which he breaks the lock off of. Inside, the room is covered in dust and cobwebs. It clearly hasn't seen use in years, but it will suit his needs. He is a cleaning fanatic, so if he should come out then he will be too preoccupied with restoring the place to think.

To think about...

Ukyo walks over to the bed, pulling the blanket he found inside the closet over his head after shaking the dust out of it.

Put it out of your mind he tells himself as he crawls into bed and curls up there. His gaze is fixed on the window next to the desk beside the bed, watching specks of dust as they float from the air vent to disappear through a thin ray of moonlight. The scene is sedating for some reason, and soon he starts to close his eyes.

Tomorrow, he will repeat the cycle that brought him to this moment.

Will he be the gentle smile that greets her as they pass each other on the street? A doleful pair of eyes to only watch her softly through the redundant month of August.

Or will he be the hands that carry her to her death, like all the times before?

Perhaps the circumstances will be different and the people involved will give him even more reasons to hate. None of that matters and all of it means everything; his hate and this mania and his despair ...he must remind himself what it's all for.

It's all for her; all of this is about her and it will always be about her and no one else.

He's afraid to admit it, but even telling himself this has become a lot more difficult as of late.

He wants to see her. He wants to see her again so badly, before things go wrong.

Gripping the fabric of the pillow beneath his head, Ukyo releases a sigh and a wistful sort of moan that is muted by the sheets up to his nose. The dust of the unkempt room stirs and he watches it for a time.

After a while he is unable to think anymore and his lids begin to grow heavy.

He doesn't want sleep; he doesn't trust him.

He doesn't trust himself, but...sleep finds him, as it always does somehow.

As it is the only semblance of comfort he will be allowed for a while, he closes his eyes and simply accepts it.

A softly catching melody.

Enchanting and sweet, like the sound of her laughter.

Inside the unconscious realm of his mind, he dreams of sparkling green eyes and lips that smile only for him.

He fantasizes the warm touch of petite fingers slipping through his own and the small bump of a shoulder that barely reaches his own.

They are two shadows surrounded by absolute light, stretching across the pavement as they walk past the gates of a place that, to Ukyo, only seems like a wretched nightmare from too long ago to remember.