Azzure sat on the rooftop ledge of the Kaito household. She looked down at the open fields at her feet, the green grass that dimmed in under the starlit night. The wind brushed against her, but this time she let it. Long has passed the biting cold of December nights. Yet still she sat on the ledge of a house she couldn't call home, a pen in hand, a letter in the other.
Except this time, she could only look down at her shaking hands. Quiet, unmoving, numb.
What was she here for again?
Oh right, she had to write a letter back to Violence. Right, Violence.
Azzure willed her hands to still, her grip on the pen tightening as she finally put word on paper:
"To My, dear Violence
I'm sorry. I should have never met you. You should have run when you got the chance. Love is something I can not give you. its in my blood. I can't love you. You should have hit me in that Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, you should have pushed me away while you still had the chance. Even if you pine for me ad nauseam, I will only hurt you. You will bleed because of me, I will hurt you. I will hurt you. I will-"
Azzure pushed the pen down, ink spraying on the paper.
No. This was too personal. She can't give this to her. No.
A hot burning feeling welled up in Azzure, something tugged at her chest. An uncomfortable ache. One she had felt only once before, that night, the spring soiree, when she thought Vi was about to be taken away from her. That night, it was her fault too, wasn't it?
Droplets fell from the sky, staining the paper, bleeding the ink.
It was raining.
No... Rain was chaotic, no one knows where the next droplet would fall. No, rain didn't hurt her chest, didn't rasp her voice, didn't cause her breath to falter. Rain didn't elicit sweet memories of a time she couldn't go back to anymore. Rain is a cradle sent by nature, this... this wasn't rain, it was harsh, and it stained her cheeks, and it stuffed her nose. it continued to fall mercilessly until sobs escaped her tightened throat, and her eyes began to burn.
Azzure didn't stop it, didn't make an effort to even try. Her pale hands, now scarred red and white, trembled under the moonlight. Azzure crossed out the words, pressing had against the paper until every fucking sentence was unintelligible. Until what was left was a hollow string of letters– toxic, vile, a warning... although Azzure didn't know if it was a warning for her, or for Violence.
Now illuminated by the pale moonlight, the letter only read:
