Chasing Ghosts

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Dying felt weird.

All poetic writing aside, of course.

His limbs ached – a dull pain that touched on every single tendon, spreading slowly like a disease. Eyes strained to the heavens, wondering, reaching for something; something to ease the thrum in his ribcage and the burning pain (so much pain).

Thinking hurt, whereas before dreaming had been a commonplace occurrence. Like a child, he had hoped for the impossible-

-and like a child, he had hoped for his mother.

The pain was real, if nothing else. Thick, almost tangible, it seemed to hang in the air. Like roots, it anchored him to the earth – ground soil and wet concrete - and, childlike, he held on tight, for it was something to find sanctuary in (at least he could still feel).

Thoughts and faces waltzed through his mind in splashes of sound and colour (roots digging deeper and deeper). It occurred to him, in moments of fleeting fantasy, that colour was brighter in his head. Real life – his reality - was painted black and white and monochrome; a world falling apart. But not so in his mind.

Maybe because he was still a child. Maybe because he could still hope.

And he didn't have to search for her anymore. Death was liberation, if nothing else. Still, such thoughts only initiated a sudden desperation; a forest fire. Gloved fingers clawed at the air, flexing like spiders, eyes wide and smouldering, searching desperately for something that wasn't there.

Chasing ghosts.

(And he was so very broken.)

"Mother…"

.

.

.

.

A hush sound, no noise, nothing; nothing save for his barely-beating heart and short, sharp gasps – crisp air playing with his hair and stinging exposed flesh.

And yet…

"Kadaj."

A voice washed through his subconscious - sweet like a honey pot, drawing flies; and arms, warm and sturdy, seemed to fold around him, keeping him close. Blinking, soft pink material swam in and out of focus, hazy at the edges. Chocolate brown locks, apple green eyes and a delicate, porcelain smile, radiating light like stained glass; stained glass in that church with all the pretty flowers.

She smelt of flowers.

"M-Mother…" he whispered, burying his head into the fabric of her dress and – oh, he could have cried, he really could.

"Shhhh," was all she said, a commanding tone laced through the compassion; slowly, a finger found his lips, pressing against them softly. No more words. Just silence - her holding him and him collapsed against her, clinging pathetically; breathing laboured, black lashes pressed harsh against his pale skin.

Death felt nice, especially when his Mother had her arms around him, smelling faintly of lilies and eyes liked stained glass, singing fragmented lullabies…

…All poetic writing aside, of course.

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a.n: it took me about one and half hour to write this, but it was so worth it, because kadaj x aerith is such a beautiful pairing :D i tried to make it all soft and blurry and poetic, despite the fact it says all poetic writing aside (irony lolz xD). oh, & the song 'away' by hannah fury is fitting for this fic, methinks.