::Tell Me On A Sunday::
~Based on "Tell Me On A Sunday" from musical "Song and Dance". Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Don Black~
Don't write a letter
When you want to leave
Don't call me at 3 am
From a friend's apartment
I'd like to choose
How I hear the news
Take me to the park that's covered with trees
Tell me on a Sunday, please
There are times when I feel that my skin is too tight, like I'm suffocating to death just by standing there. I take deep breaths, and it goes away, but the feeling always lurks at the back of my mind. The feeling that the good things in my life don't last. They never do.
And oh, God, he's a good thing. The best thing, really. There are days when I wake up in the morning and my first thought is "I can't believe Hidaka Ken loves me". Hell, who am I kidding? That's my first thought every morning.
I've never thought it could be like this. Oh, sure I dreamed, I fantasized. But that's not the same as thinking it can actually happened, of having any hope in the world that it will come true.
Dreams don't prepare you for the real things at all. They can't tell you what his skin will really feel like, or how sweet his hair smell, or how just his smile can brighten your day, or how the light gleams in his eyes when he looks up to you making you feel like you are the only person in the world that he wants to see. Fantasies can't help you deal with the look of speculative surprise from everyone else, or soft murmurs and looks of disapproval.
None of which matters a damn anymore for me now, which probably make me a horrible person or something. Because I should care, I guess. I should care that as I'm being loved by him, I'm being hated. But I don't. As long as he's with me, as long as he loves me, the rest of the world can pretty much fuck themselves.
Except for that frightening feeling, like I'm in freefall, and the only thing that's going to stop me is the sickening crash when I come back to earth. That's when I think that it's only the matter of time, and then I'm going to get exactly what I must deserve. People like me aren't suppose to reach out for what they want. In the end, we always have to pay for it.
That sounds awfully fatalistic, I guess. Like I'm picturing myself in some Greek tragedy, and I think the Gods themselves will strike me down because I dare to fly too close to the sun. But it's not like that at all. It's like…it's like I know that the hours are numbered and I need to hold on every one of them as grasp it as tightly as I can.
Because it isn't going to last. I know that going in. I just never thought that it would be this hard to let go.
Let me down easy
No big song and dance
No long faces, no long looks
No deep conversation
I know the way
We should spend that day
Take me to the zoo that's got chimpanzees
Tell me on a Sunday, please
The joke's on me, you know. There was times when Youji told me that he knew my growing attraction towards Ken and told me to make a move for it. But I coldly shoved him away, telling him that I had no love left for anyone, that the little love that was left in my heart was all for my imouto. And really, I had so little love and so much anger and coldness.
I used to sometimes mock Ken for being too soft, for being too kind. I told him harshly that someday, we would fail some missions simply because he sometimes didn't have the heart to kill his enemies. I saw the hurt in his liquid brown eyes. I knew he was offended, but I couldn't help myself. And I couldn't take back what I had said.
But really, I actually adore and respect him. He is so…human, unlike the rest of us, even Omi. The three of us, especially me and Youji, are so bitter about life. Youji covered his bitterness by flirting with all the girls that walk pass him. Omi covered it with the shyness and some innocence he still has. But I don't have anything to cover my bitterness. I can't flirt like Youji and I don't have any innocence or cute ness or shyness or whatever Omi has.
And Ken…he is the life of the Weiß. He is our sun that shines the warm beam gently on us; like a breeze that blow softly, lulling us. He is the hand that will always reach for us whenever we fall. I don't know whether Youji and Omi think so too, but he is all of that for me, if not more. He is so tender and kind, so selfless and caring. He still has that pure innocence, that gleaming eyes, that bright smile. It is as if the harsness, the cruelty of reality has never touched him in any way.
Oh, God, how I love him.
And he's going to end up leaving me. You may think that I'm suffered from some kind of paranoia, but really, I know that. He is too good for a person like me.
I want so badly to hate someone. I want so badly to hate someone, and blame it to that someone that he is going to leave me. But of course, I can't. It's not that someone's fault that some time, the best thing that's ever happened to me will be destroyed.
Sometimes, I think we are all victims of some psychological experiment gone awry. That we are the guinea pigs of some experiments that want to know how much longer we would hang on in this kind of crazy situation. Hate, revenge, killing, blaming, hallucinating. Desperation, stress, pressure….And, love.
Or maybe, without anyone knowing, I'm the most delusional. Because I convinced myself that this, that my relationship with the brunette, could work. That we'd be happy. And truthfully, we *are* happy, that's the pity of it. Maybe we've been doomed, maybe we are drowned in this brutal, merciless world, and the fate is toying us cruelly, and yet, when we are together, none of that matters.
And as far as I'm concerned, none of that will ever matter. Right up until the day when he looks at me in the eye, and tells me that it's over. The day that I know is going to come all too soon.
Don't want to know who's to blame
It won't help knowing
Don't want to fight
Day and night
Bad enough you're going
Don't leave in silence
With no word at all
Don't get drunk and slam the door
I know how I want you to say goodbye
Don't run off in the pouring rain
Don't call me as they call your plane
Take the hurt out of all the pain
Take me to the park that's covered with trees
Tell me on a Sunday, please
Maybe it's stupid to dwell on the inevitable ending, to find trouble in the future instead of taking the joy in the present. And there's so much joy, there really is. I believe him when he says he loves me, even when I know it's not really true. I believe him, because I know when he says it, he believes it too. It's not his fault.
It's not anyone's fault, that's the hardest part of it. I don't deal well with ephemeral. I want to have a real, live, flesh and blood opponent that I can yell at, and curse, and hit. I want to be able to pin this on a person, and I can't. How do you blame fate, or destiny, or whatever you want to call this thing that's driving us, *me*, into all of this?
So I live with it. I live with the ending I know is coming just as I pretend that it's not really there. When he's with me, it's easy to pretend. When I'm alone, it gets harder.
I don't tell him of my fears, of my uncertainties about our relationship. What would be the point? He would rush to assure me that I'm wrong, that what he feels is real, that my sense of doom is melodrama at its worst. He would tell me the truth as he knows it at this time. My telling him my reasons would only cause him pain, and that's something I don't want to do.
And there is this introvert side of myself. I want to deal with the problem all by myself, keep it all deep inside. I'm right about this, though. A burden shared isn't always halved. Do I really want to take the short time we have and throw this shadow over both of us?
It's a long shadow, though, and it's getting longer. Everyday I wonder if this is it, if this will be the day that he realizes that he's been playing out a charade. If this will be the day that he just can't live the lie any longer.
He's not like me, you see. Once he realizes what I've always known, he'll have to make it right. There's too much honesty in him for him to do otherwise. That's when I'll lose him. That's when it'll become clear that I never really have him to begin with.
I hope it's quick and clean. He's not the kind of person to fabricate a reason, or pick a fight, just to make it easy. No, he'll look at me in the eyes and be honest, and as much as my heart will be breaking, it will also be a relief. I won't have this weight on my shoulders anymore. I'll be able to breathe again.
For now, though, I'll remain breathless. Every day together is a gift, every kiss a blessing. He's the most precious thing I have ever known. No matter how long it lasts, or how it ends, that's the truth I'll carry away from this. That no matter what, it's all worth it.
~owari^^~