Big, Beautiful Eyes

I bet that even weeks before I even thought about it, you knew. And that at that moment I actually stumbled across the idea, you already knew exactly how you were going to die.

How pale was your face to mine? How cold was your hand to mine? Before you were so happy, so cheerful, so...alive.

--

'Just cover your eyes,' I told you. Your naïve look bore a hole through my thundering guilt, as I showed you my plastered smile, my guilty eyes. You smiled at me with total trust; so pure, so innocent, yet those eyes – those damned eyes – how they seem to just pass through me like I was so inferior and so low.

It was those eyes that seemed to see into the future, those eyes that could tell a lie from the truth. It was those eyes that sent the bloodlust down my gut – that made me want to kill you.

Those damned eyes, through all those times we spent together, it was those eyes - those damned annoying eyes that made me hate you so much.

When you gave me your hand, I dare not look at your face. When you gave me your coat, I looked not at your face. When you greeted hello, I had to look away. How could have this happened? It was that face that drawn me to you. It was that smile that made me happy for you. It was those eyes that made me fall in love with you. And yet, yet now, how many times I would gaze up at your face, I would only see this being that seemed to silently laugh at my ever so miniscule presence.

Even as I gained power, even as I became the boss of this family, and even as I became in the same position as you, your eyes would not stop staring at me with such superiority.

So when you smile and when you sleep, whenever those damned eyes of yours are closed, I sigh in relief and for once I actually manage to realize again why I fell in love. But then you open those demons, and then you stare at me so lovingly; then that feeling I had a split second ago is lost.

"Why did you bring an umbrella?" I ask. "It's sunny outside."

You smile and that feeling of hatred is lost. "Because it's going to rain soon."

Just like that, I feel my hate multiply by a thousand times and double over. How can you do such a thing to me? Why is it that you always look at my like I was something so microscopic to you? Why is it that you always look so huge to me, that those eyes and that attitude makes you seem a hundred times bigger?

"Come, sit," I wonder if you can feel my guilt radiating throughout the room. The table is already set. We are sitting on opposite sides, looking at each other with only a white tablecloth and two dinner sets separating us.

The food is laid out in front of us. Despite the white cloth sealing your eyes to me, you smile with such recognition.

"Japanese? My favorite!"

I cringe to that voice. This world was no longer a childlike world, no one waited for you, and when you waited, you died. But you with that little intuition and with your guardians, you could wait and wait for ages on with nothing happening to you.

Oh how lucky you are. Oh how carefree you can be. Nothing will ever happen to you, no matter how careless you would be.

But I smiled. I wonder if you know how fake it was through that thin white fabric. "Of course. What else would there be?"

You smile back, so much more sincere than mine. "Thank you."

I sit, soaking up every little bit of sincerity in your voice before it drowns in the sea of my betrayal. I reach for the fork and knife, slicing the meat ever so delicately before placing it on my tongue to be mashed into bits by my teeth. "Why don't you eat?"

You too reach aimlessly for the fork and knife through the blindfold as if letting me know that you too were human. As if you were. No matter how much you love me, no matter how many times you show me your humanity, you were nothing like a human. You were no human, you were a monster—

"Wine?" Blinking in surprise, I look at the waiter, a subordinate of mine in a stark white dress shirt and black vest. How many people in this room knew of my plan? In this lonesome dining room, only you, the waiter, and I are here. Did he know? Did you know?

"Oh yes. Please." He pours the red wine into the glass, hitting the bottom of the glass and rushing up like a wave over the wall. He walks so casually to you, doing the exact same routine.

He leaves through the white door, the same color of the white walls, the white plates, the white tablecloth, and your white suit. We eat in silence in the midst of this counterfeit elegance and fanciness – just like we always do in those fancy restaurants.

You outstretch your hand, just like what you always do. It seems you do not know the length of the table; my arm cannot merely reach out to you like always. After a few moments, you withdraw it from the tabletop, sliding it down slowly into your lap in embarrassment.

Dessert is served followed by a dessert wine. No one has spoken. You swish the liquid in the glass, smelling it and tasting it bit by bit. Your Italian Ice only has a small spoonful eaten.

"So, about business..." Now that dinner is over, just like always, I talk of business relations.

You do not answer; you just answer me with the quiet sound of swishing liquor.

"About the issue of business... Are you listening?" I cough quite uncomfortably and loud, trying to catch your attention.

"Do it already." Your voice is distant and taunting, your look focused on the pink wine.

"Excuse me...?" I am startled, did you already know?

"If you hate me so much, why don't you just kill me already? Why wait?"

How could you know? How did you find out? Your eyes are covered, your sight sealed, and you can't even touch me. Why do you know? When did you know? Was it...before today?

"What...are you talking about?" This isn't good. I feel my voice cracking. Shaky. Where was that solid veneer from before?

"Shoot me. Just shoot me already. I know you want to."

How could you just so casually tell me to kill you? How could you just play with your glass of wine while taunting me? Why are you treating me like some toy to play with like that glass in your hand and that spoon in your other hand? How could you act so godlike, despite your mortality? You know this, yet why don't you scream? Why don't you run? Why?

"Come on. I don't have all day."

"I...don't understand." Again, a cracked smile is plastered so messily on my face, pieces falling off like a badly structured sculpture.

"You hate me. You hate the fact that I know these things. You can't stand my eyes. You hate my intuition. You hate everything of me. And yet, you still love me. You can't get past the thought of your utter love for me, despite this hate that is boiling up in you. Am I right?"

"...What...? Did...you drink too much...? Are you okay...?" What wrong with my voice? What's with you? You already know what is exactly going to happen, yet you sit there. Why won't you beg for forgiveness like all those other bosses I've assassinated myself?

"Come on already."

Scream already! Beg for your life! Think of all your friends back at your headquarters! Think you everyone special! Think of your family!

"Kill me."

No! Don't say that! Say 'Don't kill me!' Get on your knees! Beg!

My nails dig in the mahogany table, the white table straining and stretching as the glass slips and topples on the table, spilling expensive wine all over the expensive table.

"Kill—"

The shot echoes through the building, as my pistol smokes through the barrel. You slide off the pure white chair, smearing the white satin with your blood and a hole buried deep in the fluff of the backing. You fall to the ground in a thud, your limbs flailing lifelessly. That white suit of yours is growing red, your blood seeping through the thick fabric like a dark red miasma reaching to infect the entire body. The rug becomes a sea of blood, as it overflows and rushes over onto the hardwood floor.

Inhaling and exhaling, I set the gun on the table and calmly rise from my seat to inspect the wound inflicted in your heart. I tear off the drenched silk from your eyes and face those two nightmares once and for all.

Those blank eyes, how they bore so deeply into my soul.

And there. -.-;;; It sucked. I'm not really good at this angst...I wanted to portray this drama/angst not as a tear-jerker like One Litre of Tears or a heart-wrencher like Hotel Rwanda, but something more painful. Like you could feel the suffering from this totally ordinary feeling from the narrator as he deals with his everyday emotion, torn between his ego and his love and how his hubris evolves into something inhuman and scary that can only result in tragedy and no consolation and more pain and suffering caused by more pain and suffering.

Basically him seeing something totally simple and ordinary that you see everyday that irks you until you hate it as it questions your very own existence. -.-

And now I will shut up before I really start like sounding like my Language Arts teacher...-coff- (That little piece up there is actually on my whiteboard...xDDD I wrote it a long time ago)

Either way, I'm sorry Serp-chan!! It's not 2000 words...I thought it was..but it's only 1570 words...I'M SO SORRY!! TT-TT

oh yeah. And unbetaed. I'm really annoyed by this. -.-

It's 10027 btw. How Tsuna died and so on and so on etc etc...