For Dhampir72
Much love from your enthusiastic Fan(less)
What would you say if I told you...
I'm sitting here watching the water fly by beneath me and wondering where you are right now.
…that I'm just as broken as you are?
Even though there's a lot of people on the ship, it's still lonely, especially with Lenalee here. Watching her cry for you gives me a sensation like a cold fog floating inside my chest, and I'm increasingly troubled by the thought that it might be for the wrong reason.
I really hate myself for snapping and screaming at her. Partly because I don't really like getting angry at people, but mostly because I showed my weakness then and let everyone else see all the emotions inside my—all the emotions I'd rather keep hidden. I don't want anyone to know how much this hurts me.
We're both missing what makes us who we want to be.
It's beginning to rain again and everyone else is going inside. On her way past, probably to take a warm shower, Lenalee brushes her hand against my shoulder and raises her eyes to mine.
"Aren't you coming?"
Don't look at me with those eyes. "Not yet."
"But you'll catch cold."
Your eyes are reflecting my own too brightly.
"I'll come in soon." I think I'm trying to smile, but I can't be sure. It must be working at least a little, because she turns, dropping her hand from my shoulder.
"Well, all right, but don't stay out too long. I don't—" her voice cracks slightly— "want anything to happen to you."
"Who, me? Don't worry about me. I'm pretty hardy, I can take a little rain."
My voice is steady enough that she is reassured and leaves me, heading for the comforting glow of the cabin. Under other circumstances it would probably be the other way around, but I can't explain what happened this time.
Tonight I don't want any comforting. The only comfort that could possibly warm me isn't here. For a moment I remember a foolish and fairly salacious daydream that Panda probably would've cracked my knuckles one for, but it doesn't do much to heat me up. It just hurts more to think of how diminished the chance of it becoming a reality has become, and I try to dismiss it from my mind, but shreds of the dream hang around in my mind like brain-cobwebs.
Running my hands through shining white hair, letting the strands slip through my fingers,
I shouldn't be thinking about this now.
we whisper to each other. My insignificant name sounds like music from those soft lips.
It'll just depress me more.
Those precious lips that I'm now bringing closer to my own. They meet and brush lightly, repeatedly against one another as the rest of our bodies follow suit, almost shyly enlaced. And they taste sweeter than any male's should taste, so sweet that I know it must be forbidden to be here in the dark with nothing but him and the silence of linen sheets.
I really should think about something else.
We're down against the sheets now, embraced so tenderly that neither of us want to do the right thing and break away. The act that we shouldn't even be thinking about seems inevitable and so dreadfully welcome as the tension builds…
Stop. Now, before it's too late.
There's nothing more that I want to do but keep on touching him forever—
Stop.
feeling his silken skin beneath my fingertips and his slender hips under mine and his reassuring heart beating against--
Why can't I stop?
"Please.. don't stop.."
Shut up.
"I love you."
I don't want these memories…
"Allen…"
…that aren't even real.
"Shut up!"
I kick the barrel sitting next to me. "Shut up. Stupid Lavi. Just stop already."
Abruptly the rain—which has, unnoticed, been steadily increasing in ferocity— trails off. Our ship must have reached a break in the clouds, although it's so dark I can't tell just from looking.
Hopefully, it'll come back. Then I can delude myself into pretending I can't tell where the sky's weeping ends and my own begins.
Sure, what's a little rain going to hurt? After all, my shield's already been shattered.
It ended up being so fragile. Maybe Gramps was right; maybe I don't need it, or even want it. After all, what good is it if it breaks so quickly when it's not even there?
The heart that I don't have—I can't rightfully give it away, but someone's already disappeared with it.
Or was the one I loved—the fact that I loved—enough after all?
It doesn't matter now. He's too far away.
The heart that I don't have.
And right now, there's nothing I want more.
BGM: "Hitomi no Kakera" ("Shards of my Eyes"—yes, I listened to one song the entire time I worked on this.)
--
To the person I originally wrote this little story for, the wonderful and talented Dhampir72: Sorry it took so long. I tried to sneak a little innuendo in, but it's too serious for much. (Sorry. :D) I hope you aren't disappointed by my efforts, because parts of this were really hard to phrase right, and I'm still not entirely satisfied… Sometimes it's difficult to put words to feelings. And someday I'll publish the other stories I almost gave you… maybe.
To all the other readers: Don't forget, your opinion matters as much as anyone else's! Did you enjoy reading it-- or at least, was it worth reading, even if it wasn't exactly happy? Leave a review or three and tell me exactly what you liked. And don't nag me about misusing the word "hopefully"—this humble author just couldn't think of anything that sounded better
Thank you, one and all, for reading my proud creation!
(Here in the rain…)
