I was there then…
Sitting with you on the corner; I was reading as you played videogames, sharing coca colas and dabbling in people watching, a common sight for the two of us. The days we passed on those steps up until we joined HOMRA, led by the Red King, a latter rival of mine. The tattoo upon our chests, you bore so proudly, "representing our honor" as you said. You took me in.
I was there…
When you had gotten in over your head once again. A fight you couldn't handle. I stood over you, knives in hand. Our red aura flames roaring and intermingling. I protected you.
I am here…
Despite the burn I inflicted over your so called honor on my flesh. Despite being in Sector 4, under the Blue King, Reisi Munakata.
I will remain here…
My sword drawn against you and my knife inside your flesh, your aura flickers as you yell, frustrated and confused with your once upon a time partner.
My knife thrown aside.
You fly at me on your skateboard.
I parry, my red and blue auras dancing mockingly.
Look at who I am, who I was, and who I've become. The once affectionate nickname is now spewed like venom out of your lips. I'm reminded everyday of you and HOMRA. The mark itches and I see it everyday and scratch and scratch.
I will be there…
Sword drawn again, but this time honorably, as I shove you out of the way.
I think of you many times, and although there was distance between us, I knew it was partly my fault. The thoughts that pound at the door of my consciousness; the words that won't work and sentences that won't form. It's all in disarray. A disorder they might say. As you wear your heart proudly where it should be, until I lure it to your sleeve, you willingly put yourself out there. It's not a mask or a farce. You might not even be able to see at all, much rather me. I do have a heart with emotions inside. It's not frozen or black nor dying. It's alive and well and my blood pumps through fine. I'm like you and you're like me. If we feel alone, we are not.
There are different kinds of humans, you see. You, her, him, and I. The vanguard, the innocent, the leader, and the traitor. There are those who are innocent and free, those who manipulate, those with love and those with hate, you get it now, right?
I stand before you…
You're beaten and bruised and I'm mentally screwed.
This isn't entirely how I'd planned.
"So, where's your useless, little HOMRA pack?"
The words, they won't work. You retaliate and spit out my name as if it was a bad taste on your tongue. My, how this has backfired.
I click my tongue, "Tch," in annoyance as your gaze goes through me, yearning to tear me open and find the broken gears. I smirk at you, I couldn't frown at you! I forgot how to smile and honestly, it hurts more than to frown.
I digress, I'm losing my rhythm, that wonderful rhyme. I turn and walk away, no need to assess the crime. I'm aware of my sins. I leave you upon the ground and you yell my name, oh what a beautiful sound. The corners of my lips tug upwards; I know I should turn around to smile, to cry, to help you up, my expression bone dry. The words, they won't work and my body denies you and me. This isn't what I want.
As I said, we're not alone.
This is not what I meant.
"Sorry."