The Painter, a vocaloid fanfic

I had this idea for a long time. It has a sort of MEANING /trying to stay serious, Black/ to me because blah blah blah. You guys don't care. My idiot friend said that this was a Yume Sakura / Soundless Voice song-over. I don't even know. Lol. So anyways, I get more into character with first person point of view even though I heard everyone hates it. WELL SCR-/shot

Vocaloids do not belong to me.

The Painter.

I trudged ever so dramatically through the thick leaves that had seemed to bundle up together under my black shoes. Fall was such a lovely season aside from this! Sighing deeply to myself, I looked at the beautiful scenery around me.

Yes, I hadn't yet viewed the beautiful park in years. I was glad to have come in the Fall rather than the Winter, but I would have favored Spring much more than any other season. Oh that's right, I hadn't properly introduced myself to you.

My name is Rin Kagamine.

I do not really have a good description of myself, so we'll have to settle with just that formality for now. I came to visit my grandmother in a faraway town in the countryside, FAR FAR away from where I lived in the city.

I hadn't visited since I was about seven, so now that I am thirteen, everything seems to have changed.

I'm glad though, it would be quite a disappointment if everything stayed the same.

I inhaled the sweet crisp air and gave a great big grin. There was something about the countryside that I loved. The air was crisp, clean, and pure, unlike the dirty and polluted air in the city.

The leaves gave loud crunches under my shoes, causing me to cringe with every careful step I took. I shook my head and continued to walk through the park, listening to the sounds of autumn.

Birds chirping as they prepared to travel South, children laughing and playing, adults muttering nothings, the sound of leaves falling, the horrible crunching of the leaves, the water rippling, the wind blowing.

It was all music to my ears.

I decided to stroll a bit further than I had planned, a bit deeper into the tree covered groves that were edging closer to the calm lake that sat beyond them.

I remembered when I was younger that my father used to take me somewhere over there. It was a quiet and peaceful area, not a single person in sight.

I wondered if it was still like that, surely it could have changed just like everything else, right?

Holding the skirt of my dress upwards a little as to not let it touch the dirt, I carefully made my way through the grove.

The sounds of birds chirping, the children laughing, the adults muttering nothings, the sounds of leaves falling, the crunching, the wind blowing, and the water rippling began to sound distant as my surroundings became silenced.

The air here was colder. I was guessing that the heavy shades that the trees provided made this possible. But it seemed sort of heavenly. Light peeked out from the end of the grove, where the lake would be.

Smiling triumphantly to myself, I began to quicken my pace until I was running towards the opening. Once I had reached it, I gave a great big sigh of relief.

Nothing had changed. It stayed exactly the same.

I stared at the clear lake sparkling in the afternoon sun. I closed my eyes and let go of my skirt, letting it fall on the lush overgrown grass and began to walk towards it.

I opened my eyes and stared at the lake once more, spying fishes peeking up at me as I did so. Kneeling, I reached out my hand and poked the surface of the water, and pulled back quickly after doing so. It was freezing cold.

I stood back up and turned to explore more of this peaceful land. As I turned, I froze in place as I noticed that someone else was here. Blinking, I examined the person who at least twenty-five paces away from me. It was a tall and rather skinny boy with a dirty blonde color for hair that was tied up in a messy ponytail. If I squinted, I could tell that he had dull blue eyes and a sort of girlish complexion. He looked about my age..

There were several bags full of artistic materials and in front of him stood a large easel and canvas.

He was painting.

Not thinking quite clearly, I began to approach him curiously. He seemed to pay no attention to me as I speculated the painting that he was carefully working on. My eyes widened in surprise at the beautiful painting on the canvas.

One would have thought that the painting was a photograph of the scenery if they didn't look so closely like I did. Every detail was there, and for some reason, the painting looked more real than the scenery itself!

I stood there in awe, completely forgetting how rude I was being to the boy. I shook my head as to get out of my heavy daze and laced my fingers together.

"Hello there, what a beautiful painting that is." I greeted, smiling at the boy.

However, he continued to paint and ignored me.

Perhaps he did not hear me?

"My name is Rin Kagamine." I said, introducing myself.

"What is your name?" I asked.

Perhaps I skipped to that much too quickly. I hoped that he would reply back to me.

I continued to stare at the boy, awaiting any sort of reply I might get. He hesitantly turned his head towards me, then looked back at his painting.

Frowning to myself, I sighed. Perhaps he was an unfriendly fellow, but I didn't mind him. He seemed to not care if I watched him paint, so I sat down on the grass and began to speculate. For some reason, the sound of the fine brush tip swiping across the canvas had a relaxing feel.

Completely enraptured by his painting, and possibly him, himself, I hadn't realized that the hours began to flash past me in what seemed like seconds.

By the time I knew it, the sun was beginning to set, and the boy was beginning to pack up his materials.

As he was about to leave, he glanced quickly at me and walked slowly away. When I thought he was long gone, I stood up and frantically ran towards the grove.

Oh no, oh no! Grandmother must be worried. I had promised to be back home long before. Something about that boy's painting was so very hypnotizing! And I was still bothered by the fact that he didn't even try to communicate with me!

When I had finally arrived back home to my Grandmother, I was gasping for breath. I hadn't known that I ventured that far!

"You're home awfully late." Grandmother told me, as she stirred the contents inside of the large stew pot she had resting on top of the stove.

"I'm very sorry, grandmother!" I apologized, bowing to her (although it wasn't too necessary).

"It's alright, I'm sure you had a lot of fun." Grandmother gave me a smile, as she adjusted the lopsided bow that was resting on top of my head.

"If only I had brought a camera to take a photograph of what I had seen! But they're too expensive." I sighed, as I brushed the dirt off of my dress.

"Only the rich can afford such things. Anyhow, what did you do today?" She asked me, resting her hands on her hips.

"I went to visit the old park. But while I was there, I got sort of distracted by a painter. You should have seen it, grandmother! It was the most amazing painting I had ever seen in my life!" I exclaimed, thinking about the wonderful painting.

"Oh really now? I'm glad you had fun." She proceeded to pat my back and went back to her cooking.

I skipped over to the narrow winding staircase and climbed up and began to think about the boy.

Realizing what I was doing, my cheeks had flushed a deep red and I shook my head.

Why should I think about him? He wasn't even friendly enough to at least greet me back or thank me for complimenting him.

I pouted and opened the door to the guest room that I was staying in.

He was rather pretty…for a boy.

Wait! What was I thinking? I shook my head once more and sighed.

Then, I wondered if he would be there again tomorrow.

The next day I found myself watching him paint again. He was painting a new painting, but it had looked almost exactly like yesterday's, however with a few changes. It was still as beautiful as ever, though.

I decided to try to talk to him once more.

"Why do you paint the same thing? Aren't there other things you want to paint?" I asked curiously looking at him.

He turned his head slightly, then picked up a sketchbook and a thin pencil and began to jot down words. When he was finished he handed the sketchbook to me. I took it in my hands and glanced at it, reading his very clean and neat handwriting.

"It is different everyday."

I creased my brow and handed the sketchbook back to him.

"Why don't you talk?" I asked. He froze as to think for a moment then began to write again.

"I can't."

"You can't? Why is that?" I asked once more, not quite thinking.

"I do not have a voice."

I stared blankly at the sketchbook. He doesn't have a voice? Could that possibly mean that he was mute?

Oh of course it meant that! I looked back at him, and he turned back to continue painting. I sort of felt bad now. Not knowing why, I just did.

A long silence passed by.

The boy grabbed his sketchbook again and began to write, then handed it to me once more.

I blinked as I looked at it.

"My name is Len."

I looked up at him and he looked away nervously. I smiled and grabbed his hand to shake it.

"It's nice to meet you Len." I giggled, letting go.

I noticed that he was slightly blushing and turned back to his painting.

For some odd reason, I felt very happy.

Very truly happy.

For the following days, I would spend my afternoons watching Len paint.

Each day he drew the same thing over and over again, but each day, the painting looked even more beautiful than the last.

It was almost the end of October and Winter was slowly creeping in.

I had then wondered if I would be able to see Len in the Winter.

Would he still paint in the snow? I doubted it.

And I had to return home in mid-Winter anyways.

I felt very said as I thought that. Over the few days we had been together, I somehow developed foreign feelings for Len.

I'm not sure how, and I'm not sure exactly what I feel, but it must be close to love.

Every day we would become closer, although he had no voice, we still talked to each other through his sketchbook.

I sometimes wished that I could hear his voice if he ever had one. I'm sure it would be as beautiful as his paintings and himself.

"I have to go back home to the city at the end of December." I told him, as I pulled my coat closer.

The air was already beginning to get quite cold.

He stopped his gentle brush strokes and set the brush down, reaching for his sketchbook.

He turned around and sat down on the grass beside me.

"Is that so?"

I looked down sadly and sighed.

"Yes. My autumn holiday would be over by then." I said, staring at his dull eyes.

He remained expressionless as he continued to write.

"I don't have enough time."

I stared at the sketchbook, very confused.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I hadn't quite got what he meant by not having enough time.

Len shook his head.

"It's nothing." He wrote.

I frowned and brushed some stray leaves that had fallen on my dress off.

"Will you still be painting when the snow begins to fall?" I asked, looking up at the cloudy sky.

Len looked up at the sky as well and thought to himself.

"If I can."

I'm sure his mother wouldn't allow him to spend his days in the freezing cold just painting. And the liquid snow would most likely ruin everything on the canvas! But now that I think about it, I don't even know much about Len. Does he even have a mother? Where does he go after he paints?

I had never thought to ask, and it would be odd to ask now, right?

A lot of the questions I ask him regarding things in the future, his reply would always be quite peculiar.

I stared at the ground and continued to ponder, when suddenly I felt something icy and cold on my face.

Surprised, I looked up at the sky to see millions and millions of little snowflakes falling from the sky.

"Wow! It's already snowing!" I exclaimed, dazzled by the sight of the white little specks that scattered themselves everywhere.

I stood up and smiled from ear to ear. I turned to Len who was still sitting on the ground. Expecting his reaction to be exactly like mine, it sort of disappointed me to see that he looked indifferent. Aside from clutching his knees, he looked like the snow was a bad sign to him.

I leaned over and stared at his dull eyes for a second.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, quite concerned for my friend.

Len shook his head and stood up as well, but then proceeded to pack up his materials.

It was only half past one.

Something was terribly wrong.

"Len, are you going already?" I asked (I then realized that I ask too many questions), as I helped him pick up scattered papers and pastel colors.

He shook his head again and took the papers from my hands, and if I hadn't been so distracted by the snow, I would have noticed that he was trembling.

After that day, it snowed for four days straight. I had gone to the lakeside each day, to visit Len, but unfortunately, he was not there any of those days.

Something is wrong, something is wrong.

Those were the only things that I could think about. Grandmother suggested that I find other things to do on days that Len wouldn't show. But how could I go and do 'other things' when I was so worried?

Did I do something?

I shook my head and sat glumly in the living room, staring at the flames that licked every inch of the stone fireplace.

Could it possibly be my fault?

I tried to think of anything I could have done to upset Len, but I couldn't quite think of anything. I dug my face into the pillow that was once resting on the reading chair.

Before I knew it, tears were pouring down onto my cheeks.

I had never cried for someone else like this before.

It continued to snow for three more days, which made a total of seven days (A week) since I had last seen Len. I was starting to believe that he was long gone.

It sort of angered me to think that he didn't even say goodbye, surely I would have said it!

It was now nearing the middle of November. My parents would soon be arriving for their winter holidays in just two weeks.

I had completely forgotten about anyone else except for Len these seven days. It feels quite odd to think that.

As I trudged through the heavy barrier of snow in the mid-November air, I looked up to the sky.

It was incredibly sunny today, and the weather was fair. I didn't think it would snow for at least two days. I made my way towards the lakeside, rubbing my sore eyes. Crying and lack of sleep had gotten the best of me, and it was quite evident in my eyes. They were puffed out and purplish pink, which highly complimented my dirty blonde hair. I'm sure I looked like quite the lady right now, but I didn't care how I looked.

I wanted to see him, I wanted to see his paintings again.

I stepped into the open light and stared at the half frozen lake. Fishes were still poking their heads up into the open atmosphere and bobbing back between the clear water and the surface above. I clutched my right sleeve tightly as I turned…

My eyes widened.

"Len!" I yelled as I ran towards the boy.

He looked up from his canvas and stared at me blankly.

Without thinking, I embraced him tightly, causing him to drop his paintbrush and palette. He was quite shocked at this, and when I had finally come to and realized what I was doing, I let go of him.

My face turned a light scarlet.

"L-Len! I was so worried about you. Where have you been this past week?" I asked, trying to keep from crying tears of sweet sweet joy.

Len blinked and grabbed his sketchbook.

"I wasn't feeling too well." He replied on the lined page.

I gave a sigh of relief.

"I'm so glad! I thought you were mad at me or something!" I dropped to my knees and gave another relieving sigh.

"Why would I be mad at you?" He asked me.

I shrugged and looked down, a bit embarrassed. He set his sketchbook in my lap.

"Have you been crying?" He asked.

I looked up, surprised, my cheeks deepening into an even darker color.

"O-of course not!" I lied, rubbing my sore eyes. I wasn't that great of a liar, and I had known too well that it wasn't a believable lie.

I felt Len's hand on my forehead, as he pushed up my loose bangs and he leaned in, gently pecking me on the forehead.

My heart pounded underneath my chest as my eyes slowly widened.

"You don't have to worry about me that much."

I tried my best not to blink as to let the tears fall. But I could not contain myself any longer. Tears streamed down my eyes. I rubbed my eyes again.

"Idiot." I breathed, under sobs.

"How can I not worry about you? You're my friend." I cried and cried. Len stared at me, this time, a different expression.

At that time I couldn't quite figure out his expression…but now that I realize it…I had hurt Len a lot by saying that.

The next day, I sat happily on the cold and wet ground. But I didn't mind if my dress got dirty. I was happy now that I was with Len once more.

But something was still wrong.

As Len silently stroked the canvas with the tip of his brush, his hands were trembling uncontrollably. Because of this, his brush strokes became unsteady and uneven, slightly unbalancing the picture.

I didn't think it was quite a big deal, the painting was still as beautiful as ever. But Len thought differently.

He would take the canvas down and have a fresh start with a new one. Again, his hands would shake, and he unhappily took a new canvas.

"Len, it's okay! It still looks okay." I told him, trying my best to convince him that his painting was still beautiful.

He clutched the brush tightly and shook his head angrily. His brow creased and he tried to paint again, but as the tip was about to meet the canvas, he stopped as if something was stopping him from doing so.

I stared at him, then back at his hand.

He began to tremble even more until he had dropped the brush onto the ground. I kneeled down to pick it up, but as I was about to hand it back to him, I froze and felt like my heart would stop.

I will never forget the painful expression on his face.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he stared at the blank canvas.

"Len? Len! What's wrong?" I asked, grabbing his shoulders.

He dropped to his knees and stared at the empty canvas, unable to stop crying.

"Len!" I yelled, shaking his shoulders gently.

He grabbed his sketchbook and pencil and began to unsteadily write.

I couldn't quite read the squiggly unstable lines on the paper, but if I looked hard enough, I would have known that he had said;

"I can't paint anymore."

But of course, at that time, I was too worried to try to decipher the message. I dropped the sketchbook and grabbed Len's hand, pulling him closer to me.

I tightly embraced him, and tried not to cry as well. We just sat there for hours on end, his silent cries slowly fading into nothing.

Soon, he had broken our embrace and gathered his materials, stumbling through the wet leaves and grass and disappeared into the shadows.

I remained where I was for several more hours, staring at the rippling water on the lake.

Confused.

I was terribly confused.

The following days (sixteen to be exact), Len hadn't shown up. Worry began to eat me alive.

My parents had finally come from my home, and they tried as best as they could manage to cheer me up. They didn't understand, however.

My parents tried to question my grandmother, but not even she could understand what I was feeling.

If I had known what was wrong with Len that time, I would have never let him go.

November passed by in a flash and it was almost Mid-December.

I hadn't seen Len in a month.

I tried my best to cheer up so I wouldn't trouble my parents. I had to pretend that I was happy.

My heart was being eaten away slowly each day.

December seventeenth.

This is the day I will never forget for the rest of my life.

I walked along the lakeside alone, staring at the frozen lake. Everything was frozen in place, and it was snowing heavily.

I stumbled through the large piles of snow, shivering as I felt it seep into my boots and onto my skin.

I hadn't visited this place in a few days, and now that I have possibly recovered, I decided to pay a visit. Hoping with all my heart that Len was there, painting again.

I froze, and my heart dropped.

Paint was poured all over the white snow, creating a terrible mess. Ripped and crumpled paper was also scattered along with broken canvases and brushes.

And in the middle of it all, was Len, motionless on the ground.

Forgetting about the snow seeping into my boots, forgetting about ANYTHING, I ran towards him, tears already forming up in my eyes, blurring my vision.

"Len!" I cried over and over again.

I dropped to the ground next to him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Len!"

The long eyelashes fluttered slowly open, and those once blue (now gray) dull eyes stared back at me, tears beginning to form as well.

Len forced an uneasy smile at me, causing me to cry even harder.

"What happened Len?" I yelled, grabbing his icy cold hands.

Len opened his mouth to speak, but remembering that he couldn't, he closed it once more.

He closed his eyes and clutched my hands.

"Len! Please tell me!" I cried. I rummaged through the large mess and managed to find our sketchbook and a not yet broken pencil.

I pried his fingers open and forced the pencil onto his palm.

"Please…please…" I pleaded, but he dropped the pencil. I closed my eyes and pressed his hand to my face.

"I don't have enough time."

My eyes flashed open and I turned to an unfamiliar voice.

"D-did…you…Len?" I stuttered, too surprised.

"I have to say goodbye forever, Rin." The sweet, pure, and soft voice whispered in the cold winter air.

I clutched his hand tighter.

"No! No! Why are you leaving now?" I cried.

"I tried to paint a perfect world….for us…but I can't paint anymore." He croaked, looking at me in the eyes.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"You don't have to paint it for me! You already made a perfect world!" I yelled, my voice desperate.

He hesitated for a second.

"I love you Rin."

My heart stopped.

"I love you too, Len." I managed to utter between sobs and gasps.

Len was silent for a long time. The empty lakeside was filled with my loud cries and pleads.

"Thank you for everything."

The unsteady breathing stopped, and so did the pulse, the heart beat, everything.

My eyes widened and I embraced Len's now frail body.

"Please…no…" I pleaded.

But it was too late.

He was gone forever.

December Seventeenth.

I trudged ever so dramatically through the thick leaves and brush that had seemed to bundle up together under my black shoes. Autumn was such a lovely season aside from this! Sighing deeply to myself, I looked at the beautiful scenery around me.

Yes, I hadn't yet viewed the beautiful park in many many many years. I was glad to have come in the Autumn, there was no other perfect season for me. Oh that's right, I hadn't properly introduced myself to you.

My name is Rin.

I am an aspiring painter that has just moved to this little town in the countryside. I came for various reasons, and it was very very far away from the city that I used to lived in. I hadn't visited since I was about thirteen, and now that I am seventeen, everything seemed to have stayed the same. But I'm glad though, it would be quite a disappointment if everything changed before my very eyes.

I inhaled the sweet crisp air and gave a great big grin. There was something about the countryside that I loved. The air was crisp, clean, and pure, unlike the dirty and polluted air in the city.

The leaves gave loud crunches under my shoes, causing me to cringe with every careful step I took. I shook my head and continued to walk through the park, listening to the sounds of autumn.

It was all music to my ears.

I decided to stroll a bit further than I had planned, a bit deeper into the tree covered groves that were edging closer to the calm lake that sat beyond them.

I remembered when I was younger that my father used to take me somewhere over there. And I used to venture there as well when I was thirteen. It was a quiet and peaceful area, and there was a peaceful and beautiful painter there. I wondered if that painter would still be there.

But that was quite the foolish thought.

Holding the skirt of my dress upwards a little as to not let it touch the dirt, I carefully made my way through the grove.

Smiling triumphantly to myself, I began to quicken my pace until I was running towards the opening. Once I had finally reached it, I remained silent.

Nothing had changed. It stayed exactly the same.

I stared at the lake silently, spying fishes poking their heads up to the open atmosphere, and bobbing back down to their familiar home in the water. I let go of my skirt and inhaled again.

Turning slightly, I was disappointed to see that I was the only one here.

I walked in the clear spacious area of land and dropped to my knees.

"Hello there, what a beautiful day it is." I greeted the air.

No one can hear me.

"My name is Rin." I said, introducing myself.

I reached into the small bag that I carried over my shoulders and took out a small sketchbook and pencil.

I set it down on the leaf covered overgrown lush grass and stared at nothing.

If I listened close enough, I could have sworn that I heard the sounds of a pencil scribbling across paper, and a soft voice reply to me.

"It's very nice to see you again, Len." I whispered, trying not to cry.

Let's create a perfect world together.

A/N: If you don't understand what's happening, Len is suffering from a disease/syndrome that slowly makes him lose his abilities to do anything. Just thought I'd point it out. :\