Disclaimer: I no own. There. Nuff' said.
"What the hell do you do on a weekend honey, when your hearts on fire?"
Johann Faust the eighth sat at the table. It was his birthday, April 8th, and today he was six. Unlike all the other kids, he never had parties. Today was no exception. After all, no one would come to the 'devil boys' party. Faust sighed. By now he knew why, but it still didn't make the pain any less. Just because his ancestor was like that, didn't mean that he was, did it? He shook his head. No. It didn't. So why then? What had he done to deserve this? Faust sank even lower down into his chair. Even adults scorned him… His own father…absolutely hated him, and even himself! Why did this… this… curse have to be passed through the line? What he wouldn't give to be a normal boy, free from all the blood and evil. But he wasn't, so he might as well accept his fate. He would grow up, and everyone he met would hate him. About halfway through that pitiful excuse for a life, he would go insane, losing every shred of his inner self. He would then slowly die, passing the curse down to the next in line. Then the next Faust… Faust IX… Faust's face grew dark. No matter how many times during the past that the various people tried to stop it, the line would continue. It would continue until all the blood was paid, and the sins atoned for. Faust laughed grimly. There would probably even be a Faust XIII. He shook his head again, trying to clear his mind. Those morbid thoughts were like annoying bugs… They came out of nowhere, and followed him everywhere. They were almost impossible to ignore either. And they weren't easily killed… But there he went again…. He sighed heavily. Happy birthday indeed.
Faust buried his face in his sleeve, trying to hide his tears. He was strong, he couldn't cry… But it was a lost cause. All of the hurt and anger he felt had found it's release in his absolute dejection. How ironic. His sadness made him feel… Better almost… He stared blankly at the wall in front of him. At least it didn't care if he cried or not.
But he could just here his father now…
'Stop that crying now, boy! Are you trying to be weak? You don't have a reason to cry. You take things too much for granted!'
But still the tears came.
His only solace was the girl he loved. The girl who was going to die any day now. Faust cried harder. Oh, how he wished to have never caught her gaze that day. To have never known the happiness that her smile brought. A happiness which he would soon be deprived of. But he would try to find the cure… Even if it killed him.
So be it. He hated his life anyway…
He might as well let the demon, Mephistopheles, take his soul sooner.
After all, that's what started this mess wasn't it?
Faust smiled darkly. Perhaps that was it… One of the Faust's must condemn his own soul, and taking your own life was one of the ways to do just that… His fist hit the table sharply. But that was the coward's way out! And what would happen to Eliza? She would be heartbroken without him. Although her parents loved her, she had no friends besides him…
He vaguely noticed blood running from his palms when unclenched his fists. For some reason, he didn't care. He never cared, not even after the worst of the fights he was dragged into. If you could even call them that. They were more like group beatings… But Faust tried to block them from his mind. Really. He didn't care, right? So what did it matter? Nothing? Something?
He couldn't block his life from himself forever, now could he? Maybe this was a way of coming to terms with his own, pathetic life. Yes, that was it. Pathetic. That's all he was… All he'd ever be- or was it? Faust suddenly found that he lacked the energy to think anymore. It seemed the full weight of his emotions had settled on his shoulders, and so he slumped onto the table, screwing his eyes shut and Not Thinking. Or trying to at least.
He was so wrapped up in the thoughts running through his head that he didn't notice when soft, tentative steps approached him. He didn't notice as a small box, neatly wrapped, was set in front of him. He did notice, however, when a soft pressure was placed on his shoulder. He jerked up to see Eliza herself. And here she was, right when he needed her most. He vowed then, he'd marry her when they grew up. Faust smiled and rubbed his red and watery eyes, suddenly conscious of his tousled appearance.
"E-Eliza… Hi."
She didn't say a word, wrapping her arms around him, enveloping him in a warm, comforting closeness.
And now years later, he had his party surrounded by friends. They didn't understand why he cried that day, but Eliza did. A pale, ghostly finger gently brushed his joyful tears away and he laughed then, freely and without remorse.
END