disclaimer: Pokémon not mine.
for: Rawkstar Vienna. Hope you like it.
pairing: N/Bel, Touya (Black)/Bel, and Cheren/Bel.
notes: lisztomania refers to public response of some musician or something— at least that's what they say on Wikipedia. But I just like the song.


think less, but see it grow

"See what grow," the silly girl asked.

"Love, he answered."


Once upon a time, there was a musician and a little dancer girl.

She danced as he played his magic.

But did they dance forever?

No one knows.


She's chocking on music.

Because he keeps playing such dark lullabies and she keeps dancing to the beat. Bel is seven when she first hears his talent, and she thinks he and his music absolutely beautiful— years later, she still does. Touko, just smirks as she listens because his music is beautiful; sensual and because Bel is just drawn to the simplicity of it— Bel is drawn to the love that he feels to the music.

Touko looks at Bel, before walking out of the crowded theatre, now stunned. But Bel remembers earlier, when she dragged Touko into this mess, Touko told her that she hated that man. And Bel can only wonder why, because his music is dangerous in its beauty; now Touko is gone, somewhere with people much darker than Bel knows. Touko is beautiful, able to attract the purest and darkest creatures with just her voice.

The musician didn't react; he didn't even stop playing except for the single chuckle.


Later, after the concert she approached the green haired musician with painted cheeks, "I'm sorry about my friend," she began— but he held her hand in a command to stop, his eyes gentle as he spoke, "Touko is Touko. Just let her be."

That was the first time Bel felt some hatred for Touko, because the way he held her in his eyes, in his voice— that was where she was supposed to be.

She realizes that Touko is something akin to an identity thief.

Well, at least to her.


Once there were two friends— but one decided to travel, far, far away.

The other held on to what remained.

The meet— and things change.

But still he tries to runaway.


You stare at her, again. She hasn't changed; she's still the naïve, too innocent for this world; sheltered Bel that you always knew. She shocks you, asking for things that pretty girls like her shouldn't ask for. She asked for love, and all you can do is shake your head and walk away.

"But Touya-kun!" her voices an octave higher and you cringe at the desperation held in her voice. She's beautiful, you realize, you know. But she's so beautiful, and just too fragile for you to break. She's the porcelain to Touko's glass. Not a blemish on her face, not the hazy, drunken eyes of lust. Just pure desperation of wanting to become something darker— and you can't let that happen.

Because she's beautiful in just existing.

I'm in love with someone else, you say as you brush her off and run farther away. (And you are in love with someone else; you are in love with adventure. You can't stay here, and be with her. And no matter how harsh that sounded, you don't care. Because you are a boy in love with adventure.)

She tries to follow you, but she's a lady and ladies don't run.

They wait for their love to return home.


Once upon a time, in a faraway land, in a tiny kingdom two meet.

Not for the first time, not for the last time— but it seems like the beginning or the ending.

He was a jaded man, with books in his hands and an adventure in his heart.

And she is just a girl, whose heart has been broken far too many times to count.

So they meet again.


Cheren is his name, you think.

Cheren with the pretty blue eyes, Cheren who falls read under the apple tree and slept on the branches. Cheren, you think, Cheren might understand how it feels to want something unattainable. Cheren might understand love. Or, Cheren might even be able to give you love.

Since no one else could.


"Still in love with the petty, artist, Bel," He asked and you shake your head furiously in order to get rid of the image of that boy, all delicate and prince-like. All corrupt and pure with the music that just made you crave sins.

"No," He cocked his head to the side, and brushed a strand of your hair. (Thump. Thump. Thump, Went your heart when he touched you. ) "I think you still are, Bel."

And you can't help but notice how beautiful his voice sounded. He's beautiful, you think. He's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful you think. And then you kiss him— and he's surprised because you aren't this bold, young woman blossoming— that's Touko, not you. But you are beautiful in your own right, in your innocence which is being wrapped around the ivy vines of sensual lives and sins. And you know he's thinking you have grown.

And you pull away, and he smiles, "Maybe you've grown out of your lisztomania and into something better, Bel."

"I've grown into what," you— the silly girl asked.

"Love," he answered.

And that's something worth smiling for.


the end