|Dance for Life
Author: Wicked Enough PM
/AU/OneShot/003009/ What is the meaning of your life if everything, absolutely everything, is taken from you? What is the point of living on? There isn't any... Is there?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Romance - Words: 828 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 1 - Published: 01-01-04 - Status: Complete - id: 1667286
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own Cyborg 009. Sorry!
Dance for Life
One-Shot: Rooftop Angel
Yes, this is a one-shot. Again, it might be a cliffhanger, but this one is much more straightforward. If you wish to continue it, feel free to ask me. People who don't will be reported. No second warnings!
Enjoy the story...
He was tired of life, the pain and death, the disasters that had befallen him.
Mother not old enough to have a child, left him on the steps of a grand old cathedral. So young he didn't remember anything.
Raised by a kindly old priest, until the cathedral burned down.
Was accused, but had the alibi that he was somewhere else, witnesses watching him.
No place to live; stayed on the streets.
Grades dropped like rocks, distracted and lost.
No friends, no one who cared.
Hungry all the time; no money to buy food.
Saw people die, saw them get hurt, lose hope. Didn't know if he was one of them. Stared at the ground below him.
All he had to do was climb those stairs, and boom! He wouldn't have to deal with it anymore.
No more begging on the streets, so degrading, but he didn't care about his reputation that much.
That was all part of his old life, when he had been cared for by his foster father.
Those were the sweet days of his happy childhood.
Maybe when he died, he would go to Heaven, like the Father had said that good people would go to.
He was a good person right?
And maybe he would meet up with his mother, the Father, who knows?
He started climbing those stairs, feet just barely trudging.
He felt as if he was on a high, as if he was floating in the world.
Once bright eyes were now dulled to a metallic finish, like unpolished rubies. Brows just barely furrowed, in concentration, perhaps?
He reached the door to the roof. Taking final breaths, he prepared to turn the knob.
Was he truly ready? Did he feel so old as for the need to kill himself?
Yes, yes. He was tired of it.
He turned the knob and stared out onto the roof. Cold winds blew his hair, freezing his face, but he was beyond this. He didn't need earthly things such as warmth anymore.
He was glancing around, staring at what would be the cause of his death.
That was when he saw her.
She, with her golden hair and sparkling tropic-sea eyes. She, with the movements of an angel.
How –why– did she get here?
How would she have known?
What was she doing?
Dancing like a rose blowing in the breeze, dancing like a flame on a windy night, but always graceful, always mystical...
Her eyes were closed, her pink lips curved in a slight smile, as if she knew a secret that he didn't, a bit amused.
His eyes followed her movements as if she were magnetic.
She seemed not to know he was there, this angel, still dancing with ease.
Finally she stopped with a final twirl, softly as if on a cloud.
He started clapping, unable to restrain himself. "That was wonderful," he choked out.
"Thank you." She graced him with a smile that could make the sun look dim. "I didn't realize you were watching."
"I hope you didn't mind..."
"Oh no! I don't mind at all... What do you think?"
"That it was beautiful."
Blushing lightly, she looked at him, eyes flashing with warmth. "You're very kind, Joe."
He almost jumped. She still remembered him from high school? Someone actually cared?
"Thank you, Miss Arnoul..."
She grinned at him, clearing his mind of anything but her.
"Would you like some coffee? My treat!"
She was his dancing angel.
She would capture his heart, his soul.
She would do everything that would change his very being.
Only a few words buzzed in his head, the moral of our story…
Never give up. You may want to, but you don't ever want to disappoint your dancing angel. Life is worth every second of the pain it gives you.
For without it, happiness would not be possible...
I hope you enjoyed that, and I'm sorry for the strange format; I typed it a long time ago on my laptop, and only recently transferred it to my computer, where I can access the internet easier, without having to connect any wires. Please tell me what you think!