And the car is going faster and faster and faster, but he still can't get away. A soft voice at the back of his head tells him to slow down and be careful, to drive safely, but the voice isn't his and it isn't Nana's. He pushes the voice outside the doors of his mind, locks it out and stares ahead at the white, white powder before him. He can hardly see the road for the snow.
It's funny that he's heading towards the voice all this time. Something in him says to listen, just listen and everything will be alright. Don't write songs anymore for any girl but me. The voices clash in his head, and he realizes, like every single moment of every day, that he just can't win. Whether he sleeps or works or plays his guitar, he can't escape the voices, and he's dying.
They're catching up, and he can't stop looking back. The road ahead is slippery, but he can't stop looking back. He wants to look forwards, but every time he does, all he sees is white powder and he just can't take it, so he looks back, because what he's left behind is all he can really see, at this point. But he can't leave them behind, and he just can't escape them—not his past or present his band, not his drugs or his loves.
All he ever had was music, but now he can't hear anything but the voices in his head and he can't see anything but the people behind and the powder ahead. The white, blinding powder. He used to love the snow, but now it only serves to remind him of who he was and who he is and he hates it. All he can see are the people behind him, and he doesn't know what to do. They look ahead at him, look him in the eyes and he stares right back, behind the safety of his shades. Pretending to be the man he can't and never will be, the kind of man who'd have children named after flowers, the kind of man who isn't afraid, who knows what's the right thing to do all the time. A man like Yasu. But he can't be, so he pushes the gas pedal as far as he can grips the wheel tightly, ignoring the trembling in his fingers.
He can't decide, so he'll go full speed ahead, just as he is now. That's all he can do, after all. And when he crashes, he's almost relieved. He can hear her voice, soft and high and purer than the snow, and he smiles, knowing he doesn't have to choose.
Disclaimer: Nana and its characters do not belong to me. I write for my own entertainment, not for commercial gain. I hope someone enjoys this, though. Please review, if you've read this far!
Author's Note: I kind of wrote this all in one go; it was fairly quick, so I'm not sure about the quality (I decided to post it and try to get some feedback, since I can't really edit objectively right after writing... I may repost an edited version of this in a few days). I just read about Ren's crash, so this was more of a response to it than anything, I suppose.
