Interlude of Sadness (AKA: A Scene I Don't Know Where To Fit In)

The room wasn't as big as most on the base, but it was enough. The walls were decorated with two things: a large window that was shedding sunlight into the eyes of the man standing in the room, and a rectangular painting featuring a glittering spire. The man remembered painting this for her, remembered the brushstrokes, but most of all her smile. He had given it to her on a day that had begun better than any other, but had turned out to be one of the worst of his life, but it had brought a fleeting smile to tear-stained face.

A bed decorated with a woven quilt and pillows stood against one wall, a bedside table standing resolutely next to it. On the table were three things that he knew she held dear.

One, a picture of her with her arms around the rest of her team, all of whom smiled into the camera, some more grimly than others. The other woman in the picture had a knowing, half-smile, while one of the men had rumpled dark hair and was smirking. The remaining two members of the photo looked both awkward and at home at the same time. One of them towered over all the rest, and the other was attempting to not smile as hard as he could. The man smiled when he saw this, and his eyes lingered on the woman in the front, with the bright violet eyes and the necklace that sparkled in the sun.

The second was a thick, leather book with a strange symbol on the front. He had never asked her about this, but knew that a picture of a dark skinned, laughing man was wedged somewhere within, along with a drawing of her family.

The third was another picture. He was in this one, and remembered when this was taken. Her eyes looked straight at him from the camera, piercing him as deeply as if she was standing beside him. He saw his own face there as well, but that was insignificant. He picked up the frame of this picture, and undid the clasps on the back. He popped out the back, laid it on the table, and reached in for the picture, and snaked it out. He turned it over, looked at it a minute, before folding it in half and putting it in his breast pocket.

The man laid the frame back on the table, and walked swiftly to the door. Looking back, he felt his eyes filling with tears. He could almost hear her say his name, and heard her laugh as clear as day. The image of her solemn eyes flashed in front of her face, and suddenly he turned and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

He was unaware that where he had folded the picture, a paper-cut bled, and that a solitary tear was streaming down his right cheek.

[Just so you don't freak out and start asking all sorts of questions like: who is this guy?, who are the people in the picture?, is this Akire's room?, if so, what is this random stalker doing in there?, why is he crying?, why did he take that picture?, what is up with the painting?, why did this guy give her the painting on one of the worst days of his life?, etc, etc, let me answer some:

-this guy: wait and see [hehe evil]

-people in the pic: her team

-yes, it is Akire's room. yes, she is MIA

-HE IS NOT A RANDOM STALKER!!!! HE IS VERY IMPORTANT!!!!!

-he is crying b/c he is sad. obvi!

-he took the pic because it has Akire in it!

-the painting is pretty. that's what's up with it

-he gave her the painting because he was painting it for her and she was sad because ***THIS INFO HAS BEEN REMOVED BECAUSE IT IS A SPOILER***

If you, still aren't satisfied, ALL WILL BE EXPLAINED EVENTUALLY! DONT FREAK OUT!

thanks XD)