Posted in Headcanon


Life is filled with twisted cruel jokes, and his could probably qualified as nastiest joke of all.

It’s unfair, really. He never asked for his life to change, he never wants the vibrancy of various colors that will only come when he had found his soul mate – the one person that he’s destined to be with. No, he never wanted such things. He was content with his monochrome vision.

Yet his life was thrown off balance when fate – oh how he say that word with such contempt – drop a certain angelic figure on his life, along with those colours that he resent so much. He struggled for something to hold when the life that he know is slipping off his hands, and only with such difficulties he managed to float in the stormy sea of change that the angel – his angel – brought to his life.

And he was happy. Finally, he was happy and he’s stepping on dry land again, breathing normally with his angel on his arms, safely cocooned in his embrace. And oh they were the happiest that they can be, their life is finally complete and they have each other to lean on, to face whatever shit the world throw at them, together.

Then just like that, life, the greedy bitch that fate is, wrecked havoc again.

He was walking towards his studio, juggling the two cup of coffees in his hand – a black coffee for him and a sweet caramel macchiato for his angel – when everything went grey.

He froze in utter horror as colors was drained out of his visions and those that were left are various shadings of grey. And then he’s hyperventilating, running through the street with little to no care until he sees the crowd in front of his studio and, oh, there he is, his beloved angel, frozen in the ground with a dark pool of liquid around him.

He fell to his knees then, all of his strength seeping out of him as his life shattered into pieces, tears streaming down his face and his voice is gone as he reaches for his angel’s limp hand, feeling the coldness and the absence of any pulse. He can only cry, people’s offer of condolences fell on his deaf ears because what does it means when his angel is no longer to be?

What a cruel joke. He used to be content with his monochrome vision, but now he loathes them, for they are nothing but a sign that he had lost his angel.

That now he’s alone in the black and white confinement of his, as he withers and life cease to have any meaning of all.





À la mort,

prompt by the adorable Mong



An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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