Teardrops
The halls were dim. Hauntingly quiet, small gusts of air swirling throughout the air from the large opened square holes, only pillars and barrier like concrete blocks dividing the outside world from the halls. Sharp clicks of heels followed after a heavier set of ones, hurrying their pace to catch up.
"Eight, please-- please, wait." Beatrice pleaded, quick hands clasping around Eight's wrist. The two stopped in their tracks, the red headed girl yet to turn to Rice. Beatrice practically heaved for air, hunching over as she desperately clung onto her ex-lovers wrist, shaky fingers sheathed around her like a vice, afraid she'd up and leave as she'd done prior with no word. Rice couldn't help the uneasy feeling prying at her chest, wreaking at her. It pulled her down, prying and tugging at her strings, faint noises leaving her as she tried to compose her heavy heart. She couldn't bare to look up. How could she? It was like everything was her fault, and she hadn't known it yet.
" Eight.. " a feeble attempt at demands, only coming out as a small huff as her chest tightened, lips uncontrollably quivering as she felt her eyes stir and grow dry. Hitched breaths left her once she pursued her lips, staring at the marble floors of the building as she fought against the dry cries begging and pleading to leave her throat, scratching at her closed up throat insistently. She swallowed thickly, trying to retain her composure when the only thing she was met with was utter silence, an extra if you could count a cold back.
".. Can you not take the hint?"
The other suddenly spoke, making the ivory haired look up, eyes glazed over from the dryness. She blinked momentarily, taking in Eight's words as she finally turned to look at her. She gasped as her face was grabbed hold of, being suddenly and swiftly brought closer, making her heart jump and thrum against her ribs violently, her eyes jittering to look at Eight properly as her brain scrambled and throbbed for a response, yet no response to the situation came to mind, appearing as that of a mindless husk as she stared up, eyes widened. She was utterly speechless, slightly perplexed as Eight's lips curled up into a small smirk, pleased with her so called obedience.
"You can't keep seeking me out like this. You'll keep pouring wine into my cup, and I'll repeatedly stir until it overfills from your repetitive pouring. Don't you get it?"
She tilted her head, giving her a solemn expression as if to mock her, as if to make fun of her mourning her late love. Her, in question.
Her curled lips were slight, teasing, mocking. Bound to drive Rice over the edge, purposefully so. Her ribs felt tight, constricting. A searing pain bubbled in her throat, feeling as if a gurgle was about to escape her, her fists clenching by her sides. Retorts invaded her mind, prying at her vocal chords, yet. Nothing came out. Even if she had forced an utter, a weak noise, she'd only release the desperate cries and howls and inevitable pleading, begging. Shudders, sobbing, worshipping. Nothing less of an object, dumbed down to a small inconvenience with no sense of humanity for oneself. A pest
Hm.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that's exactly what Eight wanted, how she lacked sympathy, the comforting warmth she once held, the troubles itching at her own lips at one point, how she'd spill to Rice late at nights under silk sheets, how they'd always end up caressing one another, buried in eachothers scent and comfort. Perhaps Eight had always been particularly distant.
...
There was no way she had just made up her mind
Stopped loving her so suddenly
This wasn't her
Not at all
".. This isn't,-- you." She rasped, sucking air back in, her clogged throat finally opening. It was easier. She knew why Eight was like this. She could help. Eight was hurt, she wasn't herself. Of course she wasn't. Who was she kidding? Why was she blaming her for all this?-- It was all just a misunderstanding.
.....
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her gaze snapped up at a small huff. Was she-- annoyed? No. Something similar. Was she-- crying?
"Eight.. I can help you. Please, just let me in."
Titters.
Giggles.
And then?
Laughter.
..
"You? Help me?" Eight suppressed another laugh, almost pitying her for the assumption. She wasn't suffering. She wasn't a hurt little puppy in pain.
"I have duties to attend to. I don't have time for this little.. 'Get together'."
Rice tensed as Eight pulled away, feeling her slight relief fade as she slipped away. Her hands instinctively slithered to her face.
Wet.
She was crying.
Eight was gone
She had actually left. Up and left her vulnerable, desperate for contact and communication she hadn't received.