Disclaimer: I don't own PoT. End of story.
A/N1: This is for suna90, who has been a huge supporter! (And yes, I wrote and posted it the day I replied to your review ^^) She wanted to read an angsty jealous!Ryoma fic, so here you go! WARNING: very, very angsty. Perhaps more so than suna90 wanted… sorry! …Also, this is in first person, and present tense… which may gain me many flames. Ah well.
Amethyst Edges
Your amethyst eyes have always mesmerized me. Ever since the first day. They sparkle with a beautiful light, more bright than the sun, more captivating than any diamond. Your eyes… they often make me wonder if you could possibly be an angel. If you are an angel, I then have to wonder if it's a sin to love one. And if it's a sin to hate the person that an angel loves.
Because recently, that amethyst glimmer has disappeared from my life, that amethyst glimmer that used to be so constant. We used to spend so much time together, you know. So much time. There were the practices, the lunches, the afterschool runs to some fast food place, where we would compete to see who could eat more. And now…
You never pick me up in the mornings anymore, yelling "We're going to be late!" You never look at me during practice, and even when you do, you have a distracted look on your face, as though you'd rather be elsewhere. And I know exactly where you want to be. Somehow, that just makes it worse.
You don't eat lunch with me anymore, because you're spending time with her. You don't see her during school, since she goes to a different one, so instead you see her during all your free time. That led to the loss of afterschool runs to fast food places, as well.
Heck, she takes up all your time now. All of it. I talked to Eiji the other day, and even he says that he doesn't see you much anymore. So I guess it's not just me that you're avoiding. But does that make it better, that you don't hate me in particular? Or does it make it worse, because it's just another testimony to how much you love her? I really don't know.
I really loved you, you know. I really did. I still do. But I don't know how much more of this I can take. You love her. And I know that. I see it every time I mistakenly glance over at you and her, talking together. I see it every time you talk about her. I see it every time you think about her. Which is all the time now. Because you're always thinking about her.
And every time I see you with that look on your face, some part of me dies. It doesn't quite shrivel and dry up and die. It gets stabbed, bleeding from a thousand wounds caused by the sharp amethysts that your eyes have become.
To be fair, your eyes haven't become sharper. Really, it's not your fault. No, it's just that I've become weaker. Your loving look is the blade, stabbing my heart every time I see it. And the pain is killing me. Not knowing how to express this pain is killing me. Because nobody knows how much I love you, and I can't tell them, for fear they would tell you. And that would just ruin your relationship, make you unhappy. And that's what I would hate, most of all.
But I can't live with it. I just can't. The pain will drive me mad. I don't want that either. I want to find some way to express my pain.
So here I am, staring at this knife in front of me. If I stare at it in just the right way, it takes on a purple sheen- just like your eyes. I was meant to be chopping vegetables. I guess Dad will be mad if I don't cut them all up. But it seems like such a waste to use something so similar to your eyes just to chop vegetables. Your eyes should only be for me.
On a whim, I grab the knife. I run it over my skin, shivering at the feel of the slightly damp blade. Your eyes, on my skin. I close my eyes as I run the knife over my face. Your eyes, on my lips. Gently, I kiss the flat of the knife, tasting just a hint of the metal. My lips, kissing your eyes.
I bring it lower, back down to my wrist. I run it over my hand. My hand, touching your eyes. I suddenly realize that I am aroused. How many times have I imagined you with me, instead of her?
I shiver involuntarily. Belatedly, I realize that I've cut my wrist with the blade, thanks to my careless move. But although my wrist is stinging, the pain in my heart is a little less. The pain in my wrist reminds me of the pain that's in my heart. Perhaps, if I feel the pain on my body, then the pain in my soul will go away.
Experimentally, I cut again, a little deeper. Yes, the pain in my heart is less. If the amethyst eyes are stabbing my skin, they cannot be stabbing my heart.
Elated that I've finally found a way to stop my heart from hurting, I start stabbing deeper, again and again. I move from my wrists to my forearms, then to my shoulder. I stab many times, all over myself, loving the feeling of the amethyst edge digging into my skin, loving the lack of pain in my heart. I stab again, this time in the chest, deeper than ever before.
The pain disappears.
*** Owari ***
A/N2: OMG, this is so incredibly angsty! I had an idea where it was going, but I never expected it to turn out this dark! He seems a bit crazy near the end… and he probably is. *cries* Ahhh, it's so dark! I'm writing quite a bit of dark stuff recently… I don't like it! If this is terrible, please say so! And oh god, so very angsty! ARRGH! *sniff* Well, whether you love it or hate it, please review anyways! … pretty please?