❝tsukishima kei❞

he's a lone firefly,
he can dust pinks on your cheeks
and splatter your blood on your lips,
he can be a butterfly tingling your neck,
his vines entangle remnants of your broken pieces.

when dancing silver lights gleam,
and he whispers into your ear,
you'll be nothing but an artful corpse
in his arctic sea.

—————

her lips feel cold in the summer solstice.

there's blood besides him, hand in hand they call themselves a tragedy. a rogue under the blue moon, it's almost quiet in the alleyways where smoke speaks in ciphers and dizzy heads spin like planets. stars don't come any closer to those abominations. 

one dared. it was her and she burst into a supernova at his touch. she never said anything of the nebulas or the galaxies, nor the asteroids in their way.

he feels a spring wind in the autumn skies.

his skin shivers under it's quiet embrace leading him home, a cake, melted candles and burned fingers to call yourself a child under red moons. a bloodied touch of the truth. streaks of blonde hair fall down like the dancing leaves and then, it stops.

it's gone. he's gone.

leaving behind nothing but trails of shed skin that he calls a house. not a home anymore, but a house. it was just a remnant of those strawberry times where he could taste the cream of the cake.

glasses frames fall on the ground like how life comes to an end, knives bend and are a sin to be called a father. a father of all bloodshed, knives are.

he could almost remember the feeling of towering over the ones fall, the ones who are human. the excitement brewing in his veins and bruises littering his chest and knees brought him a savior, the knife. the father of his sins.

he touches her cheek, drawing circles with her blood and his tears mixed in with that scarlet tragedy. dulcet elixirs were always scarlet, blood, wine, held bonds by veins. if he were to cross the sidewalk to the other side as cars rush past, would they still hit him? or would they stop?

he thinks they won't in those intoxicating winds.

but he's alive, and she lies lifeless and dead.

he wasn't supposed to kill her. she wasn't supposed to die. he wasn't supposed to kill again. blood wasn't supposed to spill on loved ground.

with loving and care, he lets her head lie on his lap, giving her a final breath. a final kiss for the sirens to arrive and shoot him away from his comet. the knife that lies in her chest is silver, gleaming in the light as he sees his reflection.

a monster.

the wailing lights almost reach him, and he softly sets her down on the cement. he'll probably be caught, but he'll abide his time under those skies he lived under and the roofs he enjoys. the slight warmth of akiteru's fires tried in the summer eves. he couldn't be saved, he lied too. he still let him go. akiteru whispered his goodbyes after and tsukishima kei remains the same. a tragedy. a changing perspective. a translucent cascade of enigmas and silver lined poison.

isamu is now a faded memory, a father of what he received. he's gone. and he wasn't worth as much as the stars.

this one won't be so easy.

because you were the first one i ever loved.

❝and i swear in that knife you gave me it told me to shatter you.❞

—————

shima here! probably turning this into oneshots.

why am i such a disappointment—

anyhow originally tsukki here was going to be some cool assassin but then i was like "nah" and here's the result.

in case if you are confused, isamu is his father. i came up with some random name, but isamu wasn't a good father (hint bruises hint).

listening to some dank pARAMORE WOOO