front note: I don't know why I always end up writing sad stories ^-^; but anyhow, comments and things are greatly appreciated, please! All copyrights are applied, so I don't own anyone, blah blah blah. (I know you all have heard this all before…) Okay, on with the story! PS. Again, this is unedited, so ignore all mistakes and blame it on someone else, X.x;
pds. I know I shift tenses every once in a while (bad habit, sorry!) and that there are odd paragraph breaks in the middle of a, well paragraph (again, sorry!). I wanted the paragraph breaks to be there cause of the title of the story...I know. I'm weird.
Started: 8:15 pm. September, 5'th; 2001
Ended: 11:30 pm. September, 5'th; 2001
*****
Author: Liz
Email: Lariya1223@aol.com
Title: I Remember
Type: One-Shot
Teaser: ^_^
Rating: PG (I guess, probably less)
Spoilers: None really
Warnings: Love, mush, sloppy stuff ^__^ do not read if you don't like pathetic people
*****
I watch him from the shadows. He is waiting; waiting for something, or someone. Waiting for someone special, for he has a bouquet of flowers in hand, and is dressed in 'Sunday' clothes. Why isn't that someone me? I look sadly at the man whom I love as he stands there, still waiting. I don't understand what had happened, and why I had given him up. I had given up the most precious thing I had in my life, the most precious thing I had ever had.
*****
I remembered the days when it used to be me waiting for him. I would be the one standing there with flowers in my hand, hiding against the shadows of the building. I still remembered how annoyed I would be when he was late. He was always late. I scoffed at the thought. Yes, he was always late. But I guess that was another reason for me to love him - another reason why I wanted him back.
As I stood there, I found myself staring at him. I stared at the way he stood, the expressions that crossed his face, and the way he fidgeted with his tie as he nervously glanced at his watch ever five minutes. I wondered if I was ever like that.
I felt myself wanting to go to him, wanting to go comfort him for some reason. Maybe it was me who needed comforting. But, it didn't matter who needed comforting, for he wasn't mine to comfort anymore. He had pushed me away. But, that was a lie. It had been me, ~me~ who had pushed him away. I had been the one to shove him away; I had been the reason why our relationship had ended. Even if he had come to me for something as little as someone to talk to, I had always never been there one hundred percent, maybe only fifty percent at the most.
I always thought that he would be mine; I always thought that he would tolerate it forever. I always thought he would love me forever. Then ~he~ had stolen him from me. Stolen him right from under my nose. Right from under my own buried heart. Yet, how can I be mad, when I was the one who ended it all.
I remembered the last day he had confessed his love to me. He was giving me one more chance.
I had been in the shop, cleaning up. He wanted to take me somewhere. I was slightly agitated, yet curious and so I agreed. Both of us had slowly closed shop before we left. It seemed as if neither one of us wanted to go, yet knew that we had to. I had been left to finish up the tabs on the accounts, while he had sloppily brushed away the excess dirt into a messy pile. After securing the shop, we had gone to the beach.
I remembered smirking slightly at the thought - us going to the beach? Yeah right. Yet we went and stood there, on the beach. We were both silent.
I remembered the wind had curled around us, whipping our clothes about in an uncontrolled frenzy. Then there they were. Those three short words, the words that changed everything in my life…in me.
//"I love you"// His voice had been so quiet, and so unsure of itself. It was almost lost in the wind's blowing, but I had caught it.
I remembered the frightened look on as face as I turned to look at him. Actually, all I saw was the side of his face. Was he actually scared of my answer?
I remembered standing there, our feet sinking into the damp sand with shoes in hand. The water was starting to creep around our ankles before I finally spoke.
//"Love isn't something to play around with."// I swear that I saw a tear peek out from his eyes, but then again; it could have been my imagination. Imagination does tend to play around with your feelings at impertinent times. I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I knew that I cared for him, but was I ready for love. Love is a big step in anyone's life, young or old. I knew that my life could end any day. His life could be taken away. Both of us lived dangerous lives ourselves, running around in the shadows murdering whomever and whenever we were wanted. We were puppets.
Were his feelings also attached to strings like puppets were? Did he just want someone to be near, or someone to share his fears with? I panicked at that thought, fearing that maybe that was what I really wanted, that that was what I was scared of. Maybe that was why I ran away from relationships and those who cared me. What would happen if I accepted his innocent offer, what would happen to us.
I remembered sitting on the beach, contemplating my thoughts while digging myself even deeper into the hole that I used to call a brain. As I sat there thinking, he straightened up, blocking the setting sun from my view. He had cast a sad and morbid shadow on me. It was mysterious and lonely looking. It was just like me. I looked over towards him and saw he was gazing right back at me. All the light from the sun was sucked towards him and absorbed by his innocent figure.
I remembered his miserable appearance. He looked like he had been rejected; he looked as if he had offered everything to someone, which was then shoved roughly back in his face. It was like a love letter, with 'return to sender' scrawled lazily on the front.
I remembered opening my mouth as if to ask, 'what's wrong?' Then it hit me. It was me. It was ~me~ who was all wrong. He had been the one to confess his love to ~me~, and ~I~ so happily handed it back, basically saying, 'Nope. Sorry, try again next time.' For some sadistic reason, I had the sudden urge to laugh. I wanted to laugh at him, at the scene, at myself. I wanted to laugh it all away.
And so I did.
I remembered his hurt expression. Hurt expression? What was I thinking? He already had had a hurt expression on his face. So, he had an even deeper expression displayed on his open features. It was one of love, hate, disgust, and fear. Was I loved, hated, disgusted, and feared? That thought scared me. Did I want to be loved, hated, disgusted and feared? Again, I didn't know. I found myself not knowing many things lately.
I remembered how he had turned around, not one word, not even one glance back; and he had walked away. Walked out of my life, for the last time.
*****
"Ken." He looks up and I see the happy expression on his face as he greets his new lover. I sigh as I watch the tall-red head walk gracefully towards him. He turns all bashful as he hands over the flowers. The flowers are looked at them for a short moment before taken. They are held close to his side and with a tight grip. The are accepted. He was accepted. He is accepted. It hurts. The truth always hurts. So, I turn away.
Somehow, deep down inside, I knew that that was my last chance. I think that I always knew it was my last chance. The only other chance that I had before I would lose him forever, yet I refused to believe it. I was foolish. And so here I stand, alone in the shadows with nothing except my aching memories and a burnt out cigarette to comfort me.
Yet, when I look back to watch the two of them again, they are gone. One of them is forever lost from my life, and the other has received the one and only thing that I actually wanted. And so, I shall keep everything, all my memories, all my pains of us tied up and safe in the bottom of my heart. They will be kept as a reminder. They will be my own, personal memoir.
*****
end notes: I know that this story might seem kind of confusing, I'm confused too! I didn't know who was going to end up with who until about three paragraphs from the end. ^_^; sad isn't it. The writer doens't even know where to go with the story. Anyway, if anyone is still confused on the outcome, Yoji is the one that lost it all (I know! I'm sorry to all you Yoji fan's out there), and Ken is the one that was lost. Aya got Ken! Anyway, i'll stop blabbing, and like always. I love comments, and flames for that matter, so anything is pretty much accepted. So please! Be nice x.x; email me!
pds. I know I shift tenses every once in a while (bad habit, sorry!) and that there are odd paragraph breaks in the middle of a, well paragraph (again, sorry!). I wanted the paragraph breaks to be there cause of the title of the story...I know. I'm weird.
Started: 8:15 pm. September, 5'th; 2001
Ended: 11:30 pm. September, 5'th; 2001
*****
Author: Liz
Email: Lariya1223@aol.com
Title: I Remember
Type: One-Shot
Teaser: ^_^
Rating: PG (I guess, probably less)
Spoilers: None really
Warnings: Love, mush, sloppy stuff ^__^ do not read if you don't like pathetic people
*****
I watch him from the shadows. He is waiting; waiting for something, or someone. Waiting for someone special, for he has a bouquet of flowers in hand, and is dressed in 'Sunday' clothes. Why isn't that someone me? I look sadly at the man whom I love as he stands there, still waiting. I don't understand what had happened, and why I had given him up. I had given up the most precious thing I had in my life, the most precious thing I had ever had.
*****
I remembered the days when it used to be me waiting for him. I would be the one standing there with flowers in my hand, hiding against the shadows of the building. I still remembered how annoyed I would be when he was late. He was always late. I scoffed at the thought. Yes, he was always late. But I guess that was another reason for me to love him - another reason why I wanted him back.
As I stood there, I found myself staring at him. I stared at the way he stood, the expressions that crossed his face, and the way he fidgeted with his tie as he nervously glanced at his watch ever five minutes. I wondered if I was ever like that.
I felt myself wanting to go to him, wanting to go comfort him for some reason. Maybe it was me who needed comforting. But, it didn't matter who needed comforting, for he wasn't mine to comfort anymore. He had pushed me away. But, that was a lie. It had been me, ~me~ who had pushed him away. I had been the one to shove him away; I had been the reason why our relationship had ended. Even if he had come to me for something as little as someone to talk to, I had always never been there one hundred percent, maybe only fifty percent at the most.
I always thought that he would be mine; I always thought that he would tolerate it forever. I always thought he would love me forever. Then ~he~ had stolen him from me. Stolen him right from under my nose. Right from under my own buried heart. Yet, how can I be mad, when I was the one who ended it all.
I remembered the last day he had confessed his love to me. He was giving me one more chance.
I had been in the shop, cleaning up. He wanted to take me somewhere. I was slightly agitated, yet curious and so I agreed. Both of us had slowly closed shop before we left. It seemed as if neither one of us wanted to go, yet knew that we had to. I had been left to finish up the tabs on the accounts, while he had sloppily brushed away the excess dirt into a messy pile. After securing the shop, we had gone to the beach.
I remembered smirking slightly at the thought - us going to the beach? Yeah right. Yet we went and stood there, on the beach. We were both silent.
I remembered the wind had curled around us, whipping our clothes about in an uncontrolled frenzy. Then there they were. Those three short words, the words that changed everything in my life…in me.
//"I love you"// His voice had been so quiet, and so unsure of itself. It was almost lost in the wind's blowing, but I had caught it.
I remembered the frightened look on as face as I turned to look at him. Actually, all I saw was the side of his face. Was he actually scared of my answer?
I remembered standing there, our feet sinking into the damp sand with shoes in hand. The water was starting to creep around our ankles before I finally spoke.
//"Love isn't something to play around with."// I swear that I saw a tear peek out from his eyes, but then again; it could have been my imagination. Imagination does tend to play around with your feelings at impertinent times. I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I knew that I cared for him, but was I ready for love. Love is a big step in anyone's life, young or old. I knew that my life could end any day. His life could be taken away. Both of us lived dangerous lives ourselves, running around in the shadows murdering whomever and whenever we were wanted. We were puppets.
Were his feelings also attached to strings like puppets were? Did he just want someone to be near, or someone to share his fears with? I panicked at that thought, fearing that maybe that was what I really wanted, that that was what I was scared of. Maybe that was why I ran away from relationships and those who cared me. What would happen if I accepted his innocent offer, what would happen to us.
I remembered sitting on the beach, contemplating my thoughts while digging myself even deeper into the hole that I used to call a brain. As I sat there thinking, he straightened up, blocking the setting sun from my view. He had cast a sad and morbid shadow on me. It was mysterious and lonely looking. It was just like me. I looked over towards him and saw he was gazing right back at me. All the light from the sun was sucked towards him and absorbed by his innocent figure.
I remembered his miserable appearance. He looked like he had been rejected; he looked as if he had offered everything to someone, which was then shoved roughly back in his face. It was like a love letter, with 'return to sender' scrawled lazily on the front.
I remembered opening my mouth as if to ask, 'what's wrong?' Then it hit me. It was me. It was ~me~ who was all wrong. He had been the one to confess his love to ~me~, and ~I~ so happily handed it back, basically saying, 'Nope. Sorry, try again next time.' For some sadistic reason, I had the sudden urge to laugh. I wanted to laugh at him, at the scene, at myself. I wanted to laugh it all away.
And so I did.
I remembered his hurt expression. Hurt expression? What was I thinking? He already had had a hurt expression on his face. So, he had an even deeper expression displayed on his open features. It was one of love, hate, disgust, and fear. Was I loved, hated, disgusted, and feared? That thought scared me. Did I want to be loved, hated, disgusted and feared? Again, I didn't know. I found myself not knowing many things lately.
I remembered how he had turned around, not one word, not even one glance back; and he had walked away. Walked out of my life, for the last time.
*****
"Ken." He looks up and I see the happy expression on his face as he greets his new lover. I sigh as I watch the tall-red head walk gracefully towards him. He turns all bashful as he hands over the flowers. The flowers are looked at them for a short moment before taken. They are held close to his side and with a tight grip. The are accepted. He was accepted. He is accepted. It hurts. The truth always hurts. So, I turn away.
Somehow, deep down inside, I knew that that was my last chance. I think that I always knew it was my last chance. The only other chance that I had before I would lose him forever, yet I refused to believe it. I was foolish. And so here I stand, alone in the shadows with nothing except my aching memories and a burnt out cigarette to comfort me.
Yet, when I look back to watch the two of them again, they are gone. One of them is forever lost from my life, and the other has received the one and only thing that I actually wanted. And so, I shall keep everything, all my memories, all my pains of us tied up and safe in the bottom of my heart. They will be kept as a reminder. They will be my own, personal memoir.
*****
end notes: I know that this story might seem kind of confusing, I'm confused too! I didn't know who was going to end up with who until about three paragraphs from the end. ^_^; sad isn't it. The writer doens't even know where to go with the story. Anyway, if anyone is still confused on the outcome, Yoji is the one that lost it all (I know! I'm sorry to all you Yoji fan's out there), and Ken is the one that was lost. Aya got Ken! Anyway, i'll stop blabbing, and like always. I love comments, and flames for that matter, so anything is pretty much accepted. So please! Be nice x.x; email me!