The Forever Complex
Summary: I basically thought up this title and wanted to see if I could write something around it.
Yes, I am trying to write something. Just not part of CTL. Sorry people.
Standard disclaimer applies.
He was supposed to live forever. Or as close to forever as a biochemically constructed being can.
He'd been around for…so little a time. It was ages, on a relative scale. But the only other things on the scale were humans and animals, and compared to their pathetic, quasi-life spans, anything was forever.
When he died, it was as if the world stopped. I like to believe that I'm not privy to those trivial human reactions—'the world stopped, my life was over'—but it just seemed like everything came to a screeching halt accompanied by cats yowling and cosmic drivers screaming at each other when they told me. He wasn't supposed to die. Just…what the hell? If he died, what else could happen? There just seemed to be something intrinsically wrong with someone who'd weathered through as much as he had dying. He had a goddamned dragon on his arm, didn't that count for anything?
Oh, I could imagine the look on his face the moment he died. Or maybe I couldn't. For all the time we'd been together, he still managed to surprise me. But when I think about him dying, I imagine he would have gone out with that perpetual glare on his brows along with a snarl, and much sword-swinging. Always swinging his sword, that one was.
Maybe, though, he'd accepted his end. It doesn't seem so illogical that he would have gone out with his eyes open, but resigned to his fate. Although, he was always more likely to tell fate to go screw itself. At least we both know that he went out with colossal bloodshed in his wake and a whole entourage of his victims accompanying him to Hell. I just know that he was going to Hell; he wouldn't have it any other way.
Looking back on it—which wasn't really that long ago, just a decade—I have to laugh. I remember going home after they told me the news. I was in my own apartment further outside city limits now, managing my own company from home. My mother had since died, and my non-human acquaintances had since lost contact with me, since they couldn't know I would never age.
I remember sitting on my couch with a pint of ice cream. And then I chucked it across the room so it shattered one of my pots and sent the chrysanthemum blooms toppling off the table. I screamed at him to go screw himself because that goddamned bastard had left me here with all these humans! What the hell? Now who the hell was I supposed to talk to on those insomnia riddled nights where there was nothing to do? Yomi? Hell no.
After that, I'd pretty much collapsed. I was above crying, or maybe I was afraid because I knew that the little bastard would probably come back as an aphid and chew my plants if I let myself cry over him. But I did indulge in a week off form work spent entirely in the confines of my—used to be our—room, looking through all the photos I'd ever managed to get of him and myself together, even the one's he'd thought he'd ripped up to well for me to tape back to whole milliseconds captured on film.
Life might as well have returned to normal after that. I went back to work, aka my office downstairs, and saw my old friends who were still going to live forever when they asked me to meet them on odd dates. I did develop a rather unhealthy fondness for ice cream after that, but I had a demon's metabolism, the FDA and their food pyramids could go to Hell.
I still stay up at night, especially on rainy nights. I hold one-sided conversations with myself, savoring those hours when I remembered he was most talkative. I started smoking when these times rolled around; not like it was going to kill me anyways. But just having that small, orange glow and wisps of accompanying smoke surrounding my person was like having him back here with me, and I guess it was my own way of having him live out forever with me. Because really, he was supposed to.
This is completely unedited and written all at once. I may one day go back and revamp it and make it better, but until then, I just feel like writing something. I'm sorry if the ending sucks, and I'm notoriously picky about those myself, so if you have a suggestion for an alternate one, feel free to tell me so.