Hey, what made you love me?
By Yain
Summary : As she was never able to understand them, Luka revisits the inextricable feelings that once brought her and Miku together.
I'm sitting on the wall, above the cliff and to be honest, as I look in front of my eyes, all I see is grey as opposed to the green that you loved so much...that you probably still love. Music is blaring in my ears and I am left wondering in this moment.
Hey, what made you love me?
It's been a while since I've started wondering about it, and you know, I haven't found an answer to the question yet. I know very well that you used to be on a permanent roller coaster at my side, but your laughter pulled me from my demons ever so often. I don't know yet what I used to feel at your side and to be honest, I probably never will. I just enjoyed it and found comfort with you even though I know very well; you used to hide your sadness ever so often.
The gentle breath of the wind swings my long pink hair across its tumultuous waves but I don't react to the feeling of strands brushing against my cheeks because I feel empty. Empty of desire, empty of emotions, empty of will. I live now to try and find my place but what does it mean if my place isn't next to someone's? I remember how I used to tell you that I didn't mind and that I would end up alone anyway, but thinking about it, has that always been what I sought for? Probably not, but what can I do now beside wallowing in my torment even more.
What made you love me, truly?
Was it the way that I used to talk? Or was it maybe my looks? It could've been my voice and my manners too. Chance that it might've been when we had these long conversations about what made our society the way it is and what the people should do to fix it? Wait, or no...maybe was it my knowledge and intellect...or even my confidence?
Lowering my gaze to the cliff in front of me, a sigh escapes my mouth and I let myself slouch, which allows the sigh to sound longer as my lungs completely pushes the air out. What was it? I can't begin to imagine.
But I do know that somehow, I did feel pulled to you, like a magnet even though I never acknowledged it. Your laugh and your smiles, your positivity and your vibes, your permanent act to make believe and let people see what you weren't, hiding your low self-esteem under your pleasant and worked appearance, your poshed up intellect and your fake-perfect social skills. I bit my lip and accidentally draw blood, tasting the bitterness on my lower lip.
Thinking about you makes me angry, very much so. What made you love me was one question and the other…
Why would you leave me?
Betrayal, abandon, departure, disrespect, dis… dies irae. How had you dared to leave me? Sure I wasn't good at communicating, sure I wasn't the best at conveying, but I had you so close to me...so close to me! Sure I didn't love you, sure I didn't want you to leave...but wasn't that better than nothing?! Wasn't that supposed to be us, until we would grow old and wuss?
My fingers screech against the hard rock of the wall, and my fists ball up with anger and frustration. I know so well that people thought that I had been manipulating you, and I know very well that part of everything that has happening is my own fault, but can I truly admit it outloud? I remember blaming you for being self centered, egoistic, egocentric...when I know that you were giving so much of yourself to me, trying to dedicate each minute to us and not to you. Yes, I blamed you for trying to care about yourself.
Was that what made you pull away?
Punching the wall with frustration, I start feeling pain in my knuckle. Is that pain the one you've felt when I threw my verbal daggers at you? Probably not, I can only imagine that the distress I've felt when seeing your words written on that paper...were only the anchor to ground me to my own pain, the one that reminds me even now that it could've been my fault after all. The more of you, the least of me, when all you've ever done was trying to get to me.
But well, now, I see in grey, two letters away from green, and I've mentioned it, you love the colour. Or rather...you love turquoise but how many letters is that from grey? Way too many...green makes it look closer. Facing myself in all of this is harder than facing the harsh truth that I was probably wrong to pull the strings that allowed me to keep my hands on you.
The very truth that allowed me to control you until somehow, you escaped my puppeteer skills. As if I had given life to Pinocchio by my own mistakes and that he'd left me to venture. But I refuse to admit that I am wrong because you are the one who broke the strings, when I tried to keep you close to heal my sorrows and to prevent my wallows... So I justify my pain quite aimlessly, I justify my anger quite ironically, and why? Simply, because you've left me like everyone else did, without a word, without a sign...
... you've left me and I still don't know what made you love me.
A/N: Very short fic today. You could say that it's the follow up "story" to Toxicity. It can be interpreted in various ways which is why I have decided to publish it as a different fiction. It's pretty sad too, but I'm good at writing sad things I guess. Anyway!
Thank you for reading!