Argh, had to get this one out at some point or another. Been bothering me for weeks, although I could not find the words to express my purpose. For now, I think this does it. Once I finished it, I debated as to whether or not I should include this in Last Act and Epilogue, but then, after much thought, I decided that this didn't really have the tone the other stories of Epilogue contain (even though this is slash, too). Hmmmm. Tell me what you think -- it will be greatly appreciated, as always!

Oh, yeah, and this isn't a holiday fic, although I plan on trying to get one of those suckers out before the day is over. Wish me luck!

The Most Beautiful Mistake

He sat, writing slowly on the paper. Thoughts of old filled his head, begging to be spilled onto the desk. With tired eyes, he glanced up. What use was there in this? But still the pencil was in his fingers, his hand shaking with the emotion he did not want to release. Ah, how cruel was this, that he should yet again be denied that one thing he loved more than any other? He looked back down at his paper. Should he make it into a letter, and sign away his heart at the bottom? A pause. No, he could not bring himself to scribble the name he had groaned so many times during those forbidden nights of passion. Better to leave it unsaid, and to let his former lover question all that now went unspoken. After all, the signature at the bottom would, as of this moment on, seem cold and impersonal. Yes, better to leave some things unsaid. This, though, he needed to finish. Maybe then could he rest, and allow time to make this new pain not less, but tolerable.

He continued his writing.

A mistake. Is this what I am to you? I can't forget it now, though, I can't forget you and your laugh that filled my heart with such joy even in the darkest of hours. A mistake. Even now I ponder the word, wondering the depth when it comes to your recognition of me. A mistake. That's all I've ever been to anybody, except perhaps to the god who saw it fit to give me legs and eyes and hands with which to feel the earth. Rejected for the final time by the one I love best, I cannot help but feel that I am fit for no one at all. You are no good for me, and I am no good for you. Somehow that's true as well. Despite the slowness of my appearance, and the apparent dullness with which I seem to think and speak, you brought out the best in me, you let me blossom into the potential I may never reach again. But I took that talent and used it against the world, for my own ends. And that is why we could never survive together.

A mistake. Out meeting, our affection, our whole existence with the other in this lonely world, could it all have been just that same mistake doomed to tarnish our needs and our names for as long as we live? Ah, why is that I cannot live with you around me, but I will surely never be able to so much as breathe with you gone and away? Such a beautiful boy, the first I loved with all the pieces of my shattered, blackened heart. I loved you then, I love you now, I will love you until I take my final breath and this broken heart of mine gives out. Once I almost did drown in your eyes. Now I will drown in the solitude that presses in upon me from all sides. There is no second chance so late in our leave-taking -- it's leave or die, and I choose to leave. You are already gone.

A mistake. How many times does this thought pain my heart, how many times does it hurt my head? No place to go, no one to call my own anymore. I sit and remember you and all that you were to me.

Tears in your eyes. I'm so sorry. I wish things could be different. You kiss the pained spot just above my eyes. This is the end, you know.

I am crying too. It has been the end for a long time.

Tears still in your eyes. There is a gentle, tender squeeze of your hand, and then, when your eyes break away, all is finally gone.

Oh, but don't cry, beautiful one. Can't you see how much I love you?