Standing among flowers, that is what Sai was doing on the early morning of the weekend. It was calm in the Village, and some were still sleeping in their beds.
Not Sai—
He was up sketching the sun’s rise to take the place of the moon, he had always loved to watch it with Shin and lean into his lap. It brought back memories, many of which he would have kept hidden, but they flowed like drawn ink off of stiff yet molded bristles and onto the paper known as a heart, squeezing it.
The picture he had been coloring, it fell into the bed as his hands shook, dropping their items. It was often a quite regular occurence for this to happen, as he was often reminded of things in his past, and they wouldn’t go away. His feet twitched, as he stared at the rising ball in the sky, the light hues of early morning lighting his face with many soft colors.
Shades of light that were made upon his paper, soft pink, and yellow, a hint of orange as it steadily rose. Beautiful shades that made tears find his eyes and prick almost welcoming. He tried to will them away, yet they forced, drawing their own paths and wet markings down his skin.
He didn’t— No, he didn’t want to cry.
It wasn’t right, and still tears, they were coming, and why didn’t they stop? Sai just wanted to enjoy the morning, not break down. His body shook as his legs soon gave to have him crash among the flowers and his art, still staring at the lovely sky, his heartstrings being tugged on more.
As emotionless and uncaring as he would seem toward others, or how happy, and interactive he’d seem, even people like Sai had moments. Times where memories brought pain, and for Sai, it was still the most confusing thing. And so he fell over, and began sniffing as more tears flooded his senses and he gripped the ground, crushing a few blossoms.
There Sai was, crying in the light of the morning.
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