Well, this is my first songfic. It's the only one I've ever written that's not total crap, which means I'm proud enough to publish it. The song is "Heart of Rome" by Elvis Presley. Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or the song "Heart of Rome".
The Heart of Rome
I watch in a daze as you fold what must be your millionth shirt and stuff it mercilessly into your suitcase. I've come to the eerily empty apartment to try to convince you to stay, but it seems you've already made up your mind. I pleaded and screamed and begged your forgiveness, but you wouldn't hear it. You just went back to shoving shirt after shirt into that suitcase, which I've decided to hate, with white, rigid hands.
I'm tired of all the shouting and fighting, so I resigned myself to observing your packing, tucked safely into the bay window seat. If it weren't for the feeling my heart beating restlessly against my knees, I would think I had died and gone to Hell. I definitely feel lifeless enough as you walk back and forth from your dresser to your suitcase, every once in a while sending me an angry or accusatory glare.
Memories dance before my mind's eye of us on this seat, counting the few stars visible during the night, wrapped in each other's arms, so confident that what we have would never be broken. A tear slides down my cheek and I hear you breath out a bitter laugh at the sight.
We both know I'm not perfect, but I guess this time I messed up too much.
-
In a little while you're leavin'
Starting on the journey home
-
But I didn't want to mess up, Queen. I couldn't help it. I've always been weaker than you – you know that. I'm just not as wonderful as you and I don't deserve you, but hell if that means I don't love you.
If you really go through with this thing and leave, I don't know how I could live with myself, knowing that this is all my fault. It's all my fault, Queen! Can you hear me? Did you even listen when I tried to tell you? Did you hear and not believe? Queen, it's true! I love you and this is entirely my fault! You didn't do anything wrong; you were never not enough!
"Queen-"
"Save it, Enrique."
The look you give me kills me a little more inside. Whoever said "if looks could kill" never saw the one person he might actually love glaring at him with more ice in her eyes than an arctic glacier. If doesn't even apply.
"I – Queen, I love you."
"I don't want to hear it, Enrique."
"I know, but-"
"Just don't say it if you don't mean it, okay?"
"But, I do."
"No, you don't!" You slam a pile of clothes into your suitcase and swivel to face me with your hands on your hips. "Tell me, were you thinking "Oh, I just love Queen!" when you were wrapped up in Bianca's arms last night?"
"I-"
"You can stop right there, because I know the answer." You laugh again – a pained and bitter sound. "You know, when I first started seeing you, Enrique, people told me lots of things about you. For the sake of the relationship I pushed them aside and ignored them, because you had promised me that you'd be loyal because you'd never felt so connected to a girl before in your life. I believed you, Enrique. But now I know they were all right and I can't help but think that you could've been lying to me all this time, just stringing me along. I can't trust you anymore."
Your voice wavers near the end and my heart breaks. I didn't want to hurt you – I didn't try to.
"Queen, that…thing…with Bianca… It didn't mean anything, honest."
"Oh, you mean that spit-swapping tonsil hockey session? That meant nothing all right," you reply sarcastically, hot tears of anger slipping out of the corners of your eyes. "And don't even bother to use the word 'honest', because any honesty you had wasted away a long time ago."
I open my mouth to retort, but I can't form any words. This whole thing is one big mess and I can't believe I let myself relapse back into how I was before I met you, even if it was for only one night. I feel like slamming my head off the wall repeatedly and screaming at myself about how stupid I was.
"Queen-"
"Sorry, Enrique-poo," you snarl, zipping your suitcase shut. "No matter how much I'd love to stay and chat, I have a plane to catch. Anything that's left in this dump you can pawn or sell online – I won't be needing any of it."
You march out of the apartment and call over your shoulder something about how the final rent check's on the kitchen table and that the least I can do is deliver it to your landlord. I don't really pay much attention and sit crying pitifully to myself.
-
Soon I'll be alone, the one who loves you
La la la la la, somewhere in the heart of Rome
-
Why did this have to happen? Why did I have to be so weak?
My whole body quakes with sobs – I've never been this broken up over a break-up before. Girls have cussed me out, dumped me for other guys, dumped me for other girls, slapped me, gotten their older brothers to beat me up, and walked out with my wallet before, so I thought I'd seen the worst. Apparently, I was wrong. This hurts much worse than any of that.
I'm starting to believe that you did more than take a hammer to my heart when you left – you ripped it right out of my chest and took it along with you. And it's all my fault. I practically did it to myself. I tore my heart out of my own chest, handed it to you, and sent you on your way when I gave in to Bianca last night.
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?! Why?! Why?! Why?! Why?! WHY?!
Because I'm a tried and true jerk.
A spring of fresh tears gush down my cheeks, and to any of my old girlfriends I'd be completely unappealing right now. But if you were here, and I was crying like this, you'd stick by me. You were always there for me when I needed you to be, in your own weird way, and now I chased you away.
You're gone.
And I want you back.
-
I'll make a wish in every fountain
Say a prayer that you'll return
-
I need you back.
But who would take back a loser like me? I mean, I don't deserve you. Not now, and I doubt I ever did. You deserve someone who will be there for you; someone faithful, strong, and unwavering. That's not me, Queen. But that's who I want to be. That's who I want to be for you.
But I don't know if I can. I thought I was trying as hard as I could, but I still fell for Bianca and her tricks.
I'll just have to try harder. I don't care if it kills me, I'll be the man you deserve.
Queen, I don't love her like I love you – she's nothing to me.
"Nothing," I whisper to myself, etching it into my brain. Bianca, and any other girl for that matter, means nothing to me. It's you who I really want and need. I promise I won't let myself be swept up in all their lies ever again. You keep my feet on solid ground and I was a fool to give that up for a single night's whim.
She's nothing compared to you, Queen.
I need you back, and I'm going to get you back, if you'll have me. And if you won't, you'd better get ready to fight, because I'm not letting you slip away this easily.
-
Minutes I'll be counting
May the fire of love still burn
-
In a frenzy I scramble off of the window seat and race out of your apartment, locking the door behind myself. I take the stairs instead of the elevator – I have too much energy and love-induced adrenaline to stand still for more than half a second. I burst past the doorman and out into the sunny city of Rome. I race down the street to the place I parked my car and slide haphazardly into the driver's seat. I probably shouldn't be driving in the state I'm in, but that's the last thing on my mind as I turn the key in the ignition and force my brain to slow down for a moment and remember the way to the airport.
I drive like a madman, weaving in and out of traffic and receiving a fair few honks from testy drivers. As I pass a well-known police care hide-out, I turn on my flashers, hoping that any officers lurking there will assume there's some emergency and not pull me over.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and blood pumps through my brain extra quickly, watered down with adrenaline. My reflexes are quick and I haven't second guessed myself yet as to which way to yank the steering wheel so I don't crash. I never realized how important you were to me before, or that you were capable of making me act so rashly.
Spying a sign for the nearest airport that I can only assume you went to, I steer into the right lane of traffic and take the designated exit. I park in the first parking lot I come across and jog through the automatic doors.
-
I'll keep your picture by my pillow
And pretend I'm not alone
-
There are tourists everywhere, clogging up every hallway with their screaming children, loud clothing, and collections of stuffed suitcases. I pass a few old people trying to figure out how to work a cell phone, a family searching for a missing passport, and a group of teenagers babbling away in Swedish. I shove roughly past anyone who gets in my way, determined to make my way over to the help desk.
Boy do I need help right now.
Deciding that to wait would be to waste my time, I muscle my way to the front of the line and practically fall onto the desk as I work my way through the end of the mob. The people who were at the front of the line before I got there gasp and exclaim a "How rude!" in nasally, strangely accented voices as I slam my palms down on the desk and demand to know if Queen's plane has left yet. What plane? I don't know, but if it's left, I want to know.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't help you if you don't know which plane she's on," the timid twenty-something gasped out, clearly flustered.
"Listen, I don't have time for this. She could be gone by the time you're done saying there's nothing you can do!" I growl out. If this chick holds me up any longer your plane could take off! "Can you at least page her?"
"I'm sorry, but if you want me to do that you'll have to get in line. There are others here who have been waiting for fifteen minutes already!" Her face puffed up indignantly. "Now, please, go to the back of the line."
"No," I flat-out refuse. "These people may have fifteen minutes to waste, but I don't."
"I wouldn't let you cut for a hundred Euros!" The employee growled back.
"Two hundred?"
"What?" Her eyes widen and I imagine for a second tiny Euro signs dancing in them.
I plead with my own eyes. "Three hundred, then? Please, I have to know if she's here!"
She nods numbly and I extract the necessary notes from my wallet as she fumbles with the intercom. Her fingers seem to have turned to mush in anticipation of grasping the money between them and I sigh, tapping my foot impatiently as she pages you.
-
Make believe that you are with me
La la la la la, in the heart of Rome
-
I get a strange feeling in my chest as I see you weave your way through the crowd, a question in your puffy, red eyes. I'm lost somewhere between happiness and guilt as I take a shaky breath.
You're a few feet away from the help desk when you catch sight of me. Your eyes dart between me and the girl behind the desk, counting her money a little too conspicuously. You shake your head and turn to walk away.
"Queen! Wait!" I run off after you, not caring who or what I had to push out of my way to get to you. "Stop!" I manage to reach your wrist and spin you around to face me.
"Let go," you utter in a low, dangerous voice, attempting to free yourself from my grasp.
"Not before you hear me out."
"I don't care what you have to say, Enrique. I'm done here. And, in any case, I've already paid for my flight, so I don't plan on missing it."
"Queen, you can't go!" I'm getting desperate now as I fight to spit the right words out from the cloud of a dictionary swimming away on the tip of my tongue. "I love you!" Those three words always worked in the past, so they're instinctively the first ones I blurt out. Afterwards I realize how stupid they sound pouring through the lips that were pasted to another person's not even twenty-four hours ago. I can't just say it this time; I need to show it. Unfortunately bribing the worker at the help desk to page you may not be the best way to do that.
"That's nice."
Ooh – harsh. Though I guess I probably deserve that.
"Listen, Queen-"
"No – I'm through listening to you. I can't believe you'd do this to me Enrique. Humiliating me once just wasn't enough? Now you have to come and make a scene in front of all these people? I cannot believe you!"
You're right, of course. People are starting to stare and as much as you like to be the center of attention, you're obviously explicitly livid at having a hundred people see you in such a state of weakness. I just can't win today, can I?
"I'm sorry about all this, Queen. I had to catch you. And I'm sorry about everything else – can't you just give me one more chance?" I resort to begging, my blue eyes doing their best to convey a vast array of emotions that I just can't bring my tongue to taste.
"No, Enrique," you spit out my name as if it's venom and rip your arm out of my hand with the quickness of a striking serpent, "I can't."
You're crying – staring at me with those amethyst eyes full of hurt, embarrassment, and wishful thinking.
Just seeing you in that state sends a barrage of tears sliding over my cheeks as well.
"Please…"
-
Suddenly the tears are falling
As we hear the whistle blow
-
With a shake of your head, you spin around and march away, nose in the air in an effort to maintain the slightest wisp of dignity. I'm all for allowing you to preserve your image, and for the life of me that's what I want to do, but something within me tugs and pulls at the very edges of my being and I find myself lunging after you in a desperate fury.
"Queen! You can't go!"
I reach out and pull you into my arms, crushing you with a sloppy, needy hug.
-
Hold me very close before you leave me
-
You cry out in frustration and push me away much more forcefully than you've ever done before.
"Stop! Just stop!" You stomp a foot to the ground and ball your fists at your sides – a movement I've come to associate with a Queen who's at her wit's end. "Leave me alone! I don't ever want to see your sorry face ever again!"
My chest tightens and my breath hitches as your drive your words through my heart. I suddenly feel very sick and very tired. "Queen…" I grunt out hoarsely, having trouble focusing my eyes on you through my tears.
"Go! Just go! Get out of my life!" Your voice is tearful and pained and there's nothing I can do about it at this point.
"Sir," a gruff voice sounds from behind me as a strong hand clasps onto my shoulder. I turn around to see two men in security uniforms standing there. I open my mouth to speak, make some excuse, but nothing comes out. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you're not going to be boarding a flight. We can't have you harassing this young lady."
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. I gesture in the direction of the parking lot I left my car in when asked, as they lead me away, and before I lose sight of her, I look back at Queen. She's pushing past several women who look to be trying to comfort her, making her way to the security check. She glances blankly over her shoulder at me for all but a second, and never looks back.
-
La la la la la, somewhere in the heart of Rome
A/N: As of now I'm planning a sequel, because I can't stand leaving this on a sad note. Another songfic if I can manage.
So, how'd I do?