Dedication: For Black Maya's birthday. She's an amazing friend, and I really appreciate how much she supports me in writing. I really hope she had an amazing birthday. :)

Of Fabricated Dreams And Dying Stars

By Autumn Win-Dow

They were happy.

When Koko would arrive home from work, he would see that Sumire had cooked him dinner prior to his arrival. He would comment that it didn't look as ghastly as the day before, thus earning himself a smack to the head by an offended wife. However, he knew it was all a joke, and had no concern about how horrid her food tasted – although he had to admit wasn't the most pleasant part of their marriage, since he wasn't the type to say that everything she cooked was delicious, since she knew that he would be lying.

He was happy that they were able to quarrel like this, in the same home, with matching rings on their respective fingers. And secretly, she was too.

Koko felt like he was on cloud nine every second of his married life.

When they didn't quarrel, however, the house was silent.

Sumire's back would be hunched as she took caution in chopping a green capsicum, while Koko would, with his feet lying at the end of the couch, watch the weekly baseball game. However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer or sigh whenever a home run was scored.

Koko couldn't bring himself to when the atmosphere of the home was silent. So silent that it felt like someone had died in the same room.

"Ah, shit." Sumire muttered when the sharp edge of her knife sliced her finger, a drop of crimson blood emerging from the cut. As she immediately used her uncut left hand to rummage the drawers for a band-aid, she caught a glimpse of her husband lying on the couch.

He hadn't noticed a thing.

"Crap, sorry!" Koko pleaded, gradually taking steps back, away from his annoyed wife. "I didn't know you just mopped the floor!"

He nervously glanced down at the brown footprints he was making on the clean tiles, and as he continued stepping back, he belatedly realised that he was making even more.

"You're such a moron, Koko." Sumire sighed, a hint of a smile on her lips.

However, the smile disappeared as soon as it came, and she raised the head of her mop towards his face. "But seriously?"

Koko held his hands up in surrender, an amused grin on his face. "Okay, okay, I'll vacuum the house tonight. I promise, Sumire."

"You better-" Sumire scowled, but was immediately interrupted by Koko's hand patting her head, as well as a sudden kiss on her lips, before walking towards the living room.

She placed a finger on her lips. It had been a while since he had so suddenly kissed her on the lips – usually, she would expect it, but she was genuinely caught by surprise.

However, her bliss vanished as soon as she saw the state of the house.

"Koko, you forgot to take off your shoes, damn it! Come back here, you little-"

His laugh resounded through the house.

The house was large enough for the slightest sound to bounce off the walls, but there was, in fact, no sound.

Sumire was shuffling through criminal case documents at her desk, while Koko was using his highlighter to outline small articles in a newspaper.

Koko looked to his right, watching Sumire rub her temples soothingly as she, irritated, tossed her pencil on the stacks of paper in front of her. After evidently failing to calm down, she grabbed her hair in her fists and groaned.

He wanted to stand up from his seat and comfort her – he was her husband, after all. But the highlighter in his hand, as well as the newspaper which provided next to nothing, was what stopped him from doing so.

He knew that she was stressed enough, and he didn't want to pressure her with the fact that he was fired from his job that day.

For the first time in a long time, Sumire wasn't feeling stressed.

With her feet on the table in front of her, and a bowl of popcorn in her hands, she focused her attention on the romantic comedy flick on the television as Koko watched her from his peripherals, a saucepan in his right hand.

As he sautéed, fried, stirred, and chopped, he could hear her laughs and cries in the background.

And occasionally, her enraged swearing at the main leads for acting so stupidly, mixed with a rainbow of profanities and a muffled voice due to the popcorn stuffed in her cheeks.

He was surprised to hear that she was planning to eat dinner after two bags of popcorn. She was always a girl who liked to eat, but she was eating quite a substantial amount for the last few days.

As soon as he placed the completed dishes on the table, the movie Sumire was watching had reached the ending credits. Koko walked towards the couch, where she leaned back and sighed, satisfied with the ending.

He placed two hands on her shoulders and rubbed her arms comfortingly.

"Dinner's ready, love."

"Love? You never call me 'love'. What's wrong with you?" Sumire questioned her husband, amused and slightly touched by the sudden endearment.

"Can I not call my beautiful wife what I want?" He inquired back before a quick kiss, thus earning a sceptical look from his wife.

She considered her options, but the guilty side of her had overruled. "...fine. Call me whatever you want." She sighed as she stood up from the couch, crumbs of popcorn latching themselves on the carpet.

"Sumire… I just vacuumed. You're really cruel, you know that?" Koko groaned at the newly created mess before him, his shoulders hunched in dread.

"Bleh," was her only retort as she made her way towards the kitchen in glee.

"Thanks, food monster. By the way, your lips taste like butter.

Koko's only excuse was that she had allowed him to call her whatever he wanted.

Sumire Shouda and Kokoro Yome's residence was a dull house which lacked warmth.

The tables were messy, dust coated the tops of cupboards and lamps, dishes were unwashed.

Koko had never expected the house to be this gloomy and unkempt, especially when Sumire was in a very bad mood.

He had finally gathered the courage to tell her about his lack of job, to which she rolled her eyes and sighed, before telling him that she had already known about the ordeal. Sumire went on to explain that she had seen the newspapers, the numerous phone calls to unknown numbers, and the countless copies of his resume which he had hidden underneath the bed.

However, it was not the fact that he had lost his job which made her angry.

It was the fact that he hadn't decided to tell her about it, by lying to her.

Koko felt remorseful for doing it to his wife, but he had seen how much she was stressing over her own job. He hadn't wanted to make things worse for her. He explained this, but she – to his horror – retorted that her stress was a result of the loss of his job. Her long nights were because of her attempt to support them both for the time being.

After the argument, she had stormed upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.

However, Koko didn't hear a single sob from her.

"I must've done a good job if I managed to get you pregnant with twins."

"Oh, god. I seriously want to hit you for that terrible joke."

A laugh mixed with worry. "Sorry, Sumire."

They sat on the couch together – with Koko's arm around Sumire's shoulders, and her head on his outstretched arm – as they watched a comedy game show on the TV.

Koko couldn't help but resist looking down at her when he had the opportunity to. To him, she looked no different as a pregnant woman than she was before. He loved watching her laugh, and seeing her guffaw at the crazy slapstick being shown on the television was a delight for him.

It was why he suggested watching comedy whenever they were about to watch the television together.

He loved this marriage. He loved her, and already he loved the child whom was growing within his beautiful.

Koko was sure that nothing would go wrong.

Everything was perfect – they quarrelled, but still, it was perfect.

When Koko arrived home, Sumire was nowhere in sight – along with her clothes, her make-up, and all of her other possessions.

Desperate, he tossed his suitcase carelessly on the couch as he searched all of the rooms in the lifeless home.

Still, no sign.

After ten minutes of desperate scouring and hair grabbing, he noticed small details which he had found odd and out of place.

The box of band-aids was open, and left on the kitchen counter.

Job application print-outs within the messy piles of paper on her desk.

The wedding ring on the bedside table.

Seeing the abandoned ring was the final trigger, and Koko couldn't hold it in anymore. Weak-legged, he sat on the edge of the unmade bed and started to sob – one hand gripping his hair in vain, and the other forming a fist around the small ring, holding it near his chest.

After the tears started to cease, and he started to breathe at a slower pace, a piece of folded paper caught his eye. It had been placed underneath the ring, and he hadn't noticed it until then.

Koko was scared to open it, knowing that it would further break his heart. Yet, he knew he deserved it – he was the reason why their marriage was so lifeless. And loveless.

"Damn it, Koko." He muttered to himself before unfolding the paper and reading the message which, as predicted, hurt him even more.

Koko,

Since you're reading this note – and you've found the ring – you know that I've left the house for good. I don't have to explain why in full detail, because you're smart enough to be aware of it. Our marriage is dead. It's always been dead. It's like we've been forced into this marriage, and neither of us are enjoying it. I know you've always wished to live a happy life with me, and I did too. You wanted kids – twins, you always said – and you wanted us to do the chores together, and share a house together.

It's pretty obvious that it's not working out, Koko.

Our wish of having a happy family, where we would laugh as well as quarrel over little things, is not going to happen. We never talked. We never discussed our problems. This is telling me that we can't live in the same house anymore if we want to be happy. We'll just have to be happy separately. Because this wish is dead.

I'm sorry, Koko. This is the only way we can handle this. Ever since the honeymoon, I can't recall one happy moment that we've shared. We've never spent time together, and we've never bickered about anything. Bickering is better than having no communication at all.

I loved you, and you loved me. But I don't know when our love disappeared.

That's why I'm leaving. I don't know where, but I'm out of this house. Hopefully, we'll get our lives back on track and be happy. Just not together.

I'm sorry things turned out like this. If I could, I would run to the ends of the earth to catch the first shooting star I see in order to make things better. I really would.

Sumire

P.S. Sell the ring. Hopefully it will help.

Koko crumpled the paper in his fist. He was feeling distraught because Sumire was right.

There was no life in their relationship.

His wish for a happy family and a lively house hold was an empty dream. It was a dying star, like the one that Sumire said that she planned to catch for them.

Koko eventually started to accept that she was gone, and he hoped that someone other than him would be able to make her happy.

His biggest wish was for another man to fulfil her dreams of marriage, which he was never able to do himself.

He hoped that this whole story would become a complete reality - for Sumire only.

Because he had already caught his dying star, and was weeping for its loss.

A/N: ...did you guys understand it? 8D