I dedicate this story to a very meaningful friend. I love you, sweetheart.

Stain:

There is no blood.

There are no pools of dark, opaque red liquid seeping from any area of your body. The only marks that can be observed are those thin, crimson lines that mar the creamy, pale, cold flesh on your neck.

I look at my hands and note that they are not dripping evidence of the murder I committed; of the crime against society and more importantly, myself, that I had agreed to partake in.

I breathe in deeply, letting the pure air seep into my body and cleanse me of my sins.

The clothing I wear is too restricting for this, and so I tear it off maliciously, feeling the dangerous threat of tears looming over me.

I won't let myself cry for you.

I wonder… would you have cried for me?

Now I'll never know, because you will never cry for anything again. You will never smile for anything, you will never fight for anything, you will never again witness the sun, moon or stars. You will never kiss anyone again, or feel the warmth of another human's body against yours. I'll never get the chance to see you laugh. I'll never have the chance to be the one to hold you.

I can see the bruises on your neck clearly now. They burn into my eyes, searing, and a wave of agony crashes upon me.

My face is wet, and I hate you for it.

It was easy for you to ask me to grant you this favor, wasn't it? Well? Was it easy for you to demand that I kill you? As though this was the most natural thing in the world?

You didn't struggle.

If you had, I would have been done for.

Why? Why did you want to die so badly?

Why couldn't you have tried to hold onto something - anything - to live for? I could have been the one. I could have been your light, and I could have guided you through all the darkness inside of you. I would have stayed by your side forever, gladly, and given up on everything else in my life.

I would have given you anything.

But that look in your eyes, when you asked me… I just… knew.

There was no possible way for my fantasy to come true. We would never see each other again, in the event that both of us were breathing. I feel this so strongly now that I even allow myself to stare at you.

Your beauty, even in death, is astonishing.

Even if there was to be no blood anywhere, on my clothing, or my skin; I knew that you would leave a stain upon me. It was as though, when we first met, you had somehow drawn a signature across my soul with invisible ink, and now that you were dead by my own hands, that ink was slowly darkening, and becoming visible to me.

I am laying by your side now.

I know that I cannot exist without you. I knew it from when I first laid eyes upon your stunningly beautiful face.

I press my lips to your already cool ones. A tear from my face drops onto yours and for one delirious moment, I believe that you are crying with me.

I pull out a black pistol, which catches the light from the little lamp in the corner of the room and reflects your face in its surface.

I lay down beside you.

I press the mouth of the gun to my temple, inviting it to kiss me there. I am about to pull the trigger, when a strange thought occurs to me.

I should shoot out the stain that you left on me, so that we can live in happiness together without the memory of what we have done. I lower the gun to the floor and let my dark hair loose from its usual plait. I take the instrument from the ground and bring it to my heart, where I imagine the stain would be.

'Heero.' I whisper to you. 'It's time for us to free ourselves...'

I lay down beside you and barely even hear the bang. I hold your hand, and you hold mine, and we are both so cold.

It was all just a useless sentiment. I knew...deep down...you would always leave a

Stain.