Reedited with a reply to a comment to WeiLai (at the end)

Just a fic that popped off the top of my head one day, inspired by a Mandarin musical I watched a while back. Tried to make it nice and neat, but you know me, I always tend to digress…

Anyway, moving on to…

Words to You

It's just after 5 in the evening but the gentle warmth of the sun is nowhere to be found. Instead of streaks and dabs of reds and oranges and golds, the sky is coloured in hues and dull greys and silvers flashes and dark heavy clouds. The wind howls noisily through the foliage, and the trunks of the taller, more vulnerable, trees are left swaying to the whim of Mother Nature's capriciousness. The rain is incessant, and water cascades through the thick foliage of leaves above my head and drips across the curves of my face.

By logic I know that the water is cold, and my skin must be clammy from the wind that blows. What I feel in my chest however, is only the bloom of comforting warmth, like sitting in front of a fireplace with you holding me close as we laugh and tell bedtime stories. The abnormal body heat you exude, in addition to the heat emanating from the flames flickering in the small brick alcove almost makes the room stuffy and uncomfortable. But you don't hear me complaining. You never hear me complaining. I know the question is always hanging on your lips, from previous bad experiences I suppose.

"Am I too warm for you? I could move away a little if you like."

It's odd that you've never asked me that question before, even though I know those exact words have tumbled from your lips for other females in the past. Is it the gentle curl to my lips that tell you I'm fine? Or is it the way I sometimes pull your arms tighter around myself instead of pushing you away that clue you in? It honestly doesn't matter; being in your arms, your heat pouring from across your skin and into my own flesh is just about the greatest joy you can give me. I don't think I've ever told you that before though. You know me, I can be rather shy at times. I always believed that you knew how I loved being held by you though, even if I never said it.

Your muscular arms around my slim frame, our arms wrapped around my legs folded in, and our hands clasping together, our fingers intertwined. The skin of your fingers would be calloused against my own, and sometimes you would refrain from holding my hands too tightly, as if afraid of hurting me.

Silly man. I am not so easily hurt.

Your chin would rest on my shoulder, with your head laying lightly against mine. Your hair, unruly and pink, would tickle the skin of my cheek and my nose, and your breath would tickle my ear as you playfully nibbled on the curve of the shell with the sharp teeth of yours. You'd laugh when I laughed, and then you'd lightly press your fingertips to my chin and cheek, turning my head so that you could seal off my voice with that gentle touch of your lips. You were always gentle with me. Haven't I told you so many times that I can take more? Whenever I urge you to go faster, harder, your entire body would go still, and you would clench your eyes and apply only just the tiniest bit more of pressure and speed.

I do not understand your reluctance to be a little bit more forceful sometimes, but I love you too much to tell you otherwise.

Even now, as your hands touch my face, your touch is gentle, and slightly trembling.

Are you cold? I can hear the wind gusting across the plains but I don't feel the chill because you are beside me, your body warming my skin. You smile as you hand me a white lily, and I kiss you for it, because it is my favorite flower and you always make the effort to buy me one even though you have to travel quite a while to the florist who sells it.

Still smiling at me, you sit down on a plastic sheet and weigh it down with stones, and you invite me to join you. I laugh a little at the ludicrous idea of us, sitting here on a thin picnic sheet, while the rain falls in torrents all around us. You are prepared though, as I knew you would be, and you confidently stick a retractable beach umbrella so firmly into the soil that I know it would not be swept away no matter how strong the winds. And we talk, we talk for hours. I laugh and you grin, your shiny canines gleaming even in the growing gloom.

The hour hand on your watch ticks 8 and you sigh. It is time to part for the day and even though I know that the day after tomorrow I will see you again, this moment always bring a dread to my heart. You always seem to be able to sense that dread, for the moment you have tidied up, you lean down towards me and give me a light kiss on the lips, and your hand caresses a lingering touch on my cheek. The words I hear fall from your lips are the ones I always look forward to.

"See you soon, Lisanna. Same place same time, ok? I love you."

And the words that fall from my lips echo yours. "I love you too."

And then you stopped coming.

I sit here in the grove, all by my lonesome as I wait for you to show. The hours tick by and each second is heavy on my mind.

Have you forgotten? Is that why you aren't here yet? I crane my neck to look over the gently curved hills, yet I fail to see your familiar pink hair swept messy in the wind as you stride over with long, confident steps.

This is the third time you have forgotten to meet me, and the unease in my heart grows day by day. The first time you came by my new home to visit me a year ago, you promised me that you would come by every other day, and you did so diligently, always with a white lily in your hand and an eager smile on your lips.

What has happened, Natsu, my love?

When you came by at 5 on Monday, you had forgotten my flower and your words were slightly incoherent, like your mind was elsewhere. You had displayed such signs increasingly for two weeks now but I always attributed it to work issues. Now, it bothered me that you kept glancing at your watch, like there was some place you'd rather be at, but I did not say a word. I did not want to ruin our precious date.

On Wednesday, as I sat on the grass, green and lush in spring, I was struck by an ache in my heart when you failed to show even after the sky had turned dark. One hour after 5, I told myself that perhaps you were busy with a project, and couldn't spare the time to come down and visit me. Two hours after 5, and I told myself that you were busy having dinner and discussing plans with your colleagues. Three hours after 5, and I told myself that you were so tired that you had fallen asleep on your desk. And by the fourth hour, I couldn't think anymore because my head was heavy with loneliness and my eyes were sore from crying.

I think I fell asleep by our meeting place, because I vaguely recall my mother crying out my name as she gently lifted me from the ground and wrapped a warm shawl around my shoulders. I don't remember returning to bed that night but she must have tucked me in, for the next morning I found myself lying beneath sheets with my sundress changed out for a nightgown.

I had breakfast as usual, pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and a perfect cherry plucked and laid nicely by the side. The day passed at an agonizingly slow pace and every second was filled with worry and thoughts of why yesterday you had not shown up for our date. For a whole year now, you had always taken out the time to drive out to my place. Sometimes I could see papers spilling out of your briefcase and I would be touched that you had come out to meet me even though you were so busy at work. I decided that yesterday was a fluke and the next day I went out again, walking along the beaten trail to the spot under the great oak tree. I sat on the rickety old swing hanging from a branch and there I waited for you.

Again you didn't show up, and again I found myself waking up in a warm bed the next morning, changed into a clean set of nightclothes with no memory of having returning home.

The third day again, you failed to show and while I had reasoned off your disappearance for the past two times, it was a Sunday that day. You had no reason to leave me waiting even as the sun hung low in the sky. And as the final vestiges of light vanished from the sky, I felt a new emotion boil up in my chest, one I had not experienced for you for a long time now.

Fury.

Against the better judgment of my parents, I put together a small travelling case that very night and hopped on the next train to the city. I reached in the early Monday morning and despite the tiredness weighing down my brain from having not slept properly in a week, I headed straight to your workplace. If your colleagues recognized me as I stalked through the corridors, they did not indicate that they did. Instead, each and every one of them brushed by me without paying me a single heed. I didn't care, I wasn't after them.

I turned the next corridor to the office where I knew you would be found and would you believe it? The man sitting inside it was not you. He was a strange man whom I did not recognize around this place.

I did not understand. Why was there a strange man sitting at your desk, my love?

An idea occurred to me. Had you been promoted? Was it the Managerial position you talked so much about? Was that why you were no longer at the same office? A sudden hope filled my chest. Perhaps the reason why you had not visited me in the past few days was because your new post also came with many new responsibilities. A new desire swelled my chest. I wanted to find you and congratulate you. Would you be happy when you saw me? If you knew how I had taken the effort to come all the way down to the city to congratulate you, would you be as happy as I was feeling now?

I scoured the company floor for you, my love, but you were nowhere to be found. I found your new office through. A spanking new room twice the size of your old one with a gleaming desk of pristine white and a large LCD sitting in the corner. The Mont Blanc fountain pen I had given you for our most recent couple anniversary was sitting on the desk next to a sleek black notepad, and I couldn't help but smile at the worn look of the pen's body.

And then I saw it.

A silver metal rose photo standee sitting on the table and instantly, a cloud of darkness drew itself across my mind.

My love, who is the blonde woman in the biggest photograph with you? The two of you stand against the backdrop of my favourite water fountain in the Magnolia Park, smiling brightly for the camera. You have your arm around her shoulders, and she has hers around your waist.

In the second rose frame, she is smiling at the camera with her hand pressed against the brim of the large sun hat on her head. The back drop of the shot is the azure sea of Hargeon City. You always promised to bring me there, but you have yet to do so.

The third, smaller photograph depicted…

I fling my arm out and the photo standee crashes to the floor, its glass windows shattering against the edge of your table. Instantly, a few of your colleagues burst through the door, worry across their faces as they survey the glimmering mess of broken shards in horror and confusion. Not wanting to explain myself to anyone, I immediately grabbed my small carry-on and fled out the door, not caring if I hit anyone on the way out. My mind is too clouded too care about anything else now, except for the image of you embracing another woman, your hands intertwined with hers as you rest your head on her shoulder.

I let out a scream as I ride the escalator down and despite my better self, my eyes are swimming. There is a sharp, stabbing pain in my heart as I the elevator space, occasionally hammering my fists against the button for the main lobby in a futile attempt to accelerate my descent. Three floors away from my destination, the lift slows to a halt and I snap my head towards the door, which were now slowly opening to allow for the entry of others. I grit my teeth and fury dashes through me again.

The doors open and close again slowly, and by the time I reach the lobby, I am mad with impatience. I have a new destination in mind.

My love, I am coming for you.

It is fortunate for me that you do not change your home address as frequently as you change offices, and apparently, lovers. And I am fortunate again that your habit of leaving the main door unlocked whenever you are home still stands. Your complacency of home security arising from the presence of a guard post outside your block of suites is not unfounded, but in its most base sense, is still idiocy.

I glide into your house easily and without a sound, and thoughts of throttling you cloud my mind. First however, I have another goal in sight. I sought to find the mysterious blonde. It isn't a hard task to fulfill; as I stalk through your entrance hallway, dropping my carry-on onto your precious marble floor, I can already hear a feminine giggle emanating from your bedroom.

Although my goal is in plain sight, my feet suddenly would not cooperate, and I find myself rooted to the ground. My bare feet are cold on the marble floor, and so is the rest of my body. My hands feel clammy as I wiggle my fingers slightly. I am aware of the deadness in my movements as I urge myself forward, step by step, towards your bedroom.

The door is ajar, and light spills out from the bedroom and into the narrow dark hallway. As I move closer towards the room of betrayal, I am conjuring up ways on how to broach the topic of your apparent infidelity. The image of your blonde partner in betrayal pops up in my mind's eye again and I am once again struck by her physical beauty. While I cannot condone it, I can see why you have been lured in by her wicked charms.

She has large, beautiful amber eyes that are expressive in her smile. Her body and skin are perfect, the epitome of feminine perfection and her hair, even through that tiny palm sized photograph, I can tell is gleaming and silky to the touch. Looks wise, I am inferior but that does not justify your betrayal. For all I know, she could be scheming after your money. While it isn't a lot, it is certainly substantial enough to set a girl in comfort for decades.

I wonder if your blonde knows about me.

I am closer to the bedroom door now, and with a soft push of my hand, the door to your bedroom inches open. Thankfully, you are conscientious enough to not allow any doors to creak in your house. My breath is locked within my throat now, and so is my heart. I peek my head in a little now but all I can see is the corner of your clothes cupboard and the edge of the bed. I did not want to, believe me, I did not want to, but I edged into the room, one foot sliding in through the door gap after the other.

It is as I feared, and inadvertently, a loud gasp escapes my throat and my hands flies up to cover my mouth a second too late. Thankfully or no, you have not heard me and you continue reading aloud in the lounge chair beside your bed. My vision is starting to blur now, as I watched you shift in your seat to cross your legs.

My love, as I watch you sit in that chair, clad in nothing but a pair of fiery red boxers as you read from a children's comic book, I feel like I am dying inside.

Your blonde companion is draped across your sheets, her flawless figure on display in a camisole set of red silk as she listens to you intently, occasionally laughing out loud during particularly humourous sections. She does not bother to smother her laughs the way I do and as you watch her, I can tell from the gleam in your eyes that you are attracted to this trait of hers. Whether or not the jokes are actually good I do not know, for my mind has stopped working. It is as though someone has flicked the switch on my brain and I now stand here, motionless and feeling dead inside, like a wind-up toy which has lost its wind-up key and has been forgotten with time.

The thought of confronting the pair of you seems to have fled from my mind and the fury that had been bubbling in my chest and mind has dissipated. Instead of bursting into the room like I planned, I now retreat.

As I walk the streets of Magnolia, I realize belatedly that I have left my carry-on in your home and I wonder if you will notice it. If you do notice it, would you recognize it as being mine? Would you realize the pain that you have caused me and regret your mistake? I wonder if I stand here long enough, at the junction just across your apartment block, would I see you dashing out, your arms outstretched as you once again take me in your arms and cry out your apologies.

The idea of seeing that gives me a tiny flicker of hope and I still my feet. The crowd surges around me, moving and changing constantly but I pay them no heed. Instead, I keep my eyes trained on the lobby entrance of your apartment block, waiting to catch a sight of your pink hair.

I don't have to wait long.

After about an hour, you emerge from behind the rotating doors but you are neither dashing towards me nor are you carrying my small suitcase. Instead, you have your arm wrapped around the shoulder of your blonde companion and the two of you turn down the next corner without so much as a glance in my direction.

The flickering flame of hope in my chest has just died.

Without a thought as to what I am doing, I stride across the street in your direction, making sure to keep a safe distance from you and your new lady friend. I hear you call her name a few times, Lucy, sometimes Luce, and every time you do, your grin grows a little wider and my heart grows a little colder.

I watch as the two of you walk up to a fancy little bistro a few blocks down, and settle in a small alfresco table along a row of colourful hydrangea shrubs. The both of you are laughing gaily as you pick up the menus. A young man suited up smartly in white carrying a small basket of breadsticks approaches your table and he smiles warmly as he takes your orders. As you sip from what I know is mocha latte, you reach across the table and your hand clasps over your companion's. Even from across the street, I can see the blush that dusts her cheeks and I bite my lip till it hurts. The cheeky grin on your lips falters and you tense in your seat when I see, through the hydrangea foliage, her slender leg sliding up your own jean leg.

Instantly, the only thing that I can think of is how to break that leg of hers and I only manage to refrain from doing so by clenching my fists so tightly, I can feel wetness in my palms.

Strangely enough, there is no wetness in my eyes as I watch the pair of you. Perhaps it has something to do with this odd out-of-body experience I am having now; like I am detached and living through another person's eyes. Even the wetness in my palms feels surreal and there is no pain. Only numbness.

I follow the two of you for the rest of the day and all the while I am contemplating why you have chosen to hook up with this blonde. Is our relationship insufficient for you? While I am not as vivacious as your blonde beauty, I am aware that I am an attractive woman who is not lacking in any way. I know that you know that.

I have seen the inside of her purse; she has cards and therefore no need to depend on someone like you. As the two of you stroll down the street hand-in-hand, I have seen more than a few men dressed more expensively and sharply than you eyeing her for longer than is necessary. Why is she with you then? Has she truly fallen for you? Have you even told her about my existence? Me, your girlfriend of three years.

Natsu, my love. Have you had a change of heart? Is that why you stopped coming to visit me?

As I walk behind the two of you, I start to feel a little more concrete, a little more back inside myself if you will. My thoughts and emotions are running wild now and my breathing is starting to get erratic.

As the two of you came to a stop at the traffic junction, a thought occurred to me. A thought fueled by betrayal and confusion. Granted, those two feelings didn't exactly put me in the best state of mind to make any sort of rational decision but the sight of you and she, together side by side, was driving something fierce through my emotions and I didn't think anymore. I couldn't think anymore.

The signal light for pedestrians walking flashed to red and out of the corner of me eye, I could see a black Lamborghini speeding my way. Again, I didn't think, I just acted and so I just gave a little push.

It was like everything suddenly went into slow motion, and from my safe spot on the curb, I caught every single change in detail. And as I did, an odd feeling of nostalgia entered my mind but at that very second I could not place where I had gleaned it from.

I saw your blonde stumble forward, her sandy wedge slipped off the curb and her ankle followed, twisting sideways painfully. Immediately, her eyes clenched shut and she gritted her teeth as a sharp pain sizzled up along her leg. The momentum brought her slender form leaning and toppling backwards. Instinctively, her arms shot out in an attempt to grab for support, her fingers flailing and grabbing air.

The loud honk of the vehicle drew her attention towards the approaching car and her pretty blonde head turned sideways just in time to see the sleek vehicle streak towards her at a neck breaking speed. The sound of tires screeching and rubber burning asphalt filled the air as the driver in the car jammed on his brakes, swerving the car sideways at a perilous angle to avoid hitting your woman.

I heard you call out her name just once, your beautiful onyx eyes wide with fear as your brows shot down in desperation. Your own tanned arm shot out, your fingers clasping onto her wrist within a second.

I could see the physical exertion in your face. A droplet of sweat flew from your brow and tiny drizzles of saliva jetted from your mouth as you yelled out an expletive. I was standing a meter away from where you were, but even at that distance, I could hear the loud pumping of your adrenaline to every cell in your body. Every muscle and nerve in your body must have been tense as you clenched your eyes shut and leaped after her flying body. Onlookers gasped and shrieked and yelled as they watch you wrap your own body tightly around the blonde's, making yourself a human shield.

As for myself, I have now fallen to the ground. My knees had failed me the second I saw you leap after her. I watched in gaped-mouth horror as the balled up couple before me hit the hood of the car, the male grunting as his back took the brunt of the impact, and in that very second, I was transported.

It was as if my soul had gone on mental time travel and in my mind's eye, I found myself before a street, a different street, but with a very similar scene playing out before me.

Floating high above the commotion, I saw you leap forward, yelling out my name, as you stretched out an arm towards me, your fingers flailing to grab onto my own. Your eyes were pinpoints, and wide with fear as a single teardrop flew from the corner of one eye, leaving a streak of liquid glimmering in the air behind your head. I saw myself open my mouth to call out your name, my own arm stretched out towards you, wanting to grab onto your hand, the hand that I knew would carry me to safety. Barely five meters away, a huge lorry careened widely towards the me I saw below, the driver grunting from the exertion of trying to rein in the monster of a vehicle.

I watched wide-eyed as my falling figure made one last ditch attempt to reach for your hand, my five fingers straining and scratching at the air for some form of skin contact.

But I missed, and I saw you stumble forward, struggling to regain your balance as your feet caught on the same curb ledge I had slipped off from when the eroded concrete had crumbled without warning beneath my slipper.

The impact of the lorry was the last thing I felt as my limp body flew many feet into the air before I crumpled down into a broken heap meters away. The last thing I saw was you screaming, tears streaming down your eyes as you shook me, though I felt nothing then. You must have been screaming my name, for your lips were moving in that particular pattern that delighted me whenever they did. It was odd though, I couldn't hear you anymore. With that particular hard knock my head made against the asphalt, there was a loud cracking sound, like the sound of someone breaking an egg with a fork multiplied by a hundred, and then I just couldn't hear anymore. I remember wishing that I could still do though, since I would have liked to hear you call my name again.

I had wiggled my fingers, wanting to reach out to touch your face and clean away your tears. It wasn't manly to cry, remember? But my hand merely slid along the wet ground without lifting up. Why was it wet though? It hadn't been raining, had it?

Darkness was creeping slowly around my field of vision then and I saw you lift your head away from me to shout something I didn't recognize. I remember wondering again why you weren't calling my name anymore, though that thought gradually faded into oblivion when my heart had finally stopped beating.

I am standing in front the hospital bed now, my dead eyes sore with tears I can no longer shed as I watch you struggle to sit upright in the bed. For an athlete such as yourself, getting upright in a bed should come as easy as blinking but now you struggle and grunt with the effort. As soon as she hears your voice, the blonde flies to your side, her arms instantly wrapped around your torso as she eases your difficulty.

If I could, I would kill myself for having subjected you to such turmoil but I can't die again and so my love, I am left standing at the foot of your bed, watching you strain just to lean forward. I had almost fainted from relief when I had heard the operating surgeon announce that your spine hadn't been injured too badly, though you would no longer be able to take part in physically demanding sports.

I had let out a loud cry of relief then but no one had paid me any heed. I guess that was one good thing of being dead; no one could see how embarrassing I looked with my eyes sore from non-existent tears and my hair a disheveled, tousled mess from wind I could no longer feel.

As I stood by your side, watching your blond beauty feed you small mouths of porridge from a bowl and laughing softly when you made a face from the hospital food, I felt the starting of a smile curve the corner of my lip. The tap on my shoulder took me by surprise but the face of which I looked into when I turned around did not.

My mother was standing there, a shawl wrapped over the nook of her arm as she smiled gently at me. The smile reflected disappointment, motherly sympathy and compassionate support all at once and I instantly flung myself into her arms, wailing about how wrong and stupid I had been. As she was wont to do, my mother clucked her tongue and wrapped the shawl around my shoulders. Supporting my weight with one arm around my waist, she slowly led me from the room.

Turning back around, I thought I saw you smiling at me as I walked out of sight.

Finished. Woah. The ending was abrupt… Ok, uhm… Really not sure what to say now… Hmmm… I kinda like it though. Hope you did too. Drop me a review if you have any comments/suggestions on improvement?

Faie. Out.

Weilai

Thanx for the awesome review. Laughs~

No she wasn't hallucinating. Basically, this was a deja vu situation. Lisanna had died in a car accident prior to the events in this story and the entire thing is told from her perspective as a ghost. The visits she had from Natsu were basically him visiting her grave. She only recalled that she had died when the Lucy - car incident jolted her back to reality. Also, Natsu was not a cheating bastard here, I just made him sound like one ^.^

Though maybe he was in my other ongoing fic A Second Chance? Hint hint. Just joking... or am I? O.o

The musical was a local Singapore production. I can't remember the name but basically it's the story of a man whose girlfriend had died and he left for America to start anew. He started to fall for another Chinese immigrant in NYC but was always holding back because of his love for his gf. The dead girl's role was narrator of the story and at some points in the story she sort of "interacted" with him.