Elysium
I.
There was nothing I wanted more than to love you.
This was what inevitably killed me. My dreams, my hopes, my life—everything I did was so that in fact, I could be closer to you. I was ready to willingly sacrifice everything I had to be with you. It didn't matter if you didn't love me, because you had never loved me in the first place. Do you know how many friends I betrayed because of you? Do you know how many people I disappointed? How many people I killed?
But how could you possibly understand all that?
How could you possibly understand?
A person will do anything for their beloved's happiness. They will laugh with you, help you, comfort you, fight with you, and cry honestly when you're hurt. But you—a sadistic, loveless soul—will never understand this. When I voraciously craved the small patch of pale skin just above the collar of your kimono, you didn't say anything. When I tentatively leaned towards your pasty, colorless lips, you didn't say anything. When I offered my body to you as a tool, you didn't even look at me.
But I don't blame you. I can't blame you. Even now I feebly conjure up a corporeal manifestation of you from my tired memories, touching your dead heart, swallowing my own bitter sadness and wishing for the unseen. If I told you I still wanted to be with you, you'd laugh—one of the few sprays of cruel amusement. But it's true. No matter what you say,
I love you, but that can only be possible if I love the truth more.
You, Sasuke, were an utter bastard.