Description: An insight
on the suffering eiri went through a year after the kitizawa
incident. Eiri's pov. one shot. tohmaxeiri
I have literally rewritten this little piece of fiction here 3 times, 3 FUCKING TIMES! This would be the 3rd time. The first time, I left my computer on, went downstairs, and when I came upstairs, for some odd reason my computer decided to shut itself off then turn back on, the little bastard. Second time I went on my site, logged in, wrote it, tried to post—but the site had logged me out, so it was lost then. This is the third time. I'm going to strangle myself if I loose it again without getting it done and posted. Please appreciate it. :twitches: I love critiques and appreciate reviews.
Memory
Photo albums spread across hard wooden floors, like birds just shot out of the sky by their hunters after a long chase in the sunset. Tired from the flight and, giving in, letting death take them.
Lying quietly, the bindings ripped open and torn, pictures slipping out like features, wind hissing and moaning… Whipping through my soaked hair—sweat droplets dangling from the end of each follicle, hanging on my chin, clinging to the skin for dear life, then, falling to the floor like tears.
Not that I hadn't been crying.
They had been taunting me to rip them… they had been taunting me to tear them, to shred them, to butcher them, to massacre them, to let all my pent up sadistic thoughts to be taken out on them.
I wanted the pictures to die.
Every single one of them… and the memories within them…
Memories I don't want to remember…
Memories I can't live without remembering…
I guess by ripping them I can gradually, steadily, like a little game in my head, pretend they never happened on the surface. That way I don't have to think about thinking of them… if, that even makes any sense. That way I won't have to remember…
That way I won't have to see Kitizawa's smiling face, looking down at me, his lips gently parting, back curving downward, thin hair swaying, mouth pressed against my ear, brushing against my skin with each movement, whispering gently yet eagerly,
"E-Eiri…. You're blushing. Why?"
That fucking bastard.
Yuki… Even if it was only for a little while, even if it was only, probably, just pretend so you could earn my trust enough to get close to me; you were still the only person ever kind enough to let me learn, to let me breathe. To let me talk without being interrupted or silenced, to let me even go as far as thinking that there was any good in people at all…. But, I guess there wasn't. Even if it was just a love created and devised for a cover up of sexual thoughts with bias reasoning… I still…. I miss you.
Even though the only thing I remember of you was of that night—as you greedily helped the two strangers rip off my clothing, one pinning me by the throat to the wall, you taking a knife you had and cutting my thigh for, god knew what reason, as the other taller, bulky man fumbled with the button and zipper of my pants, demanding me to silence my cries of them to stop as you licked that knife clean of my blood.
There's a large window in my room. It nearly takes up the whole wall to the right of me, from my bed, giving me a sentimental view of the flowers and gardens surrounding this damned temple.
It's storming outside as of now… the fog is thick and hazy, the clouds choking up water—rain patting down in sheets, beating the flowers into the earth, grass being ripped from their roots by the wind, leaves hitting against the temple, dancing in twisted jerks and knots.
That window… it's wide open and I couldn't give a shit enough to close it. The wind is shoving itself in and out of my room, taking the pieces of photographs on the floor and swirling them around and around, taking a few outside with it, soaking them in water. Some liquid still splatters my floors. The bed sheets are trembling from the power of the breeze, the thin pale curtain in which covers up my window jolting outside and in again, as if it can't make up its mind which is the better place. I can feel the jagged air pull itself inside and back out of my clothing, letting the temperature of my body to drop dangerously lower and lower.
It must be 30 degrees at least…
So cold… My body is sticky in my own warm sweat, but I'm not hot at all. My chest feels numbed and heavy with frost, I can barely feel my toes anymore, and I can see, through blurred vision, my skin has gone from a little pale to a pallid white. My throat feels tight and dry, and I can only wonder if the voice which escapes me is my own as I breathe in sharp scratchy gasps, my lungs limiting me to how much air I can take at a time. I can feel tears slipping from the corners of my eyes and dragging down, mixing with sweat, but I don't know if that's from depression or illness. It wouldn't matter though, because I guess depression would be considered an illness, anyway.
I must look like a mess. But… why would I care?
Hopefully father won't burst in and ask what the hell is wrong with me for keeping my window open, if he's done with that girl he invited over 5 hours ago. Or Tatsuha, or mika for that matter, then; realizing I'm ill and, I don't know, call a fucking ambulance or some thing. With any luck I'll die in this corner, slowly, painfully, just like Yuki wanted, my body crawling down to the floor and lying there for a good eternity or two. Then all the worms and spiders can creep and secrete the last of my essence from this place… Then I can go to hell and burn for what I am, what I've done, what I'm becoming… if there is a hell.
These pictures that I've torn…
They're all different snapshots of my life in New York. I've shredded every single one with me in it, but I can't bring myself to take the lives of the photographs with Yuki in them. There's one resting by my feet, flapping around with the breeze. I move my foot and press it onto the corner of the picture to keep it from flying away. Kitizawas null eyes and blank smile are staring at me… It's amazing that you can capture some one's life on paper with a mere photograph. Especially some one who is now dead.
The ceiling is beginning to shift onto the wall, and the bed is being pushed further and further from me, and the colors… everything seems so much dimmer… did I fall asleep? There's a banging noise coming from somewhere, it's probably some one knocking my door, but why so loudly? Why can't they see the silence is a beautiful thing? Urg… The walls are melting; the room is spinning, and that fucking banging noise keeps getting louder. It's all my making me feel nauseous. I can hear someone yelling. Sounds like Tatsuha.
Hopefully if I sleep it'll all go away.
I hope I don't wake up.
"Try not to worry yourself so much, Seguichi-san. Eiri worked his way towards pneumonia but he should get better in a week or so."
"Were his wrists slashed?"
"Not from what we could see, no. Just pneumonia. He was much disoriented on the way to the hospital though; he kept mumbling things until we put the oxygen mask on him."
"I-I see…"
"His father, brother, and sister are sitting in the waiting room as of now. You can go wait with them if you like. I'm not sure if he's going to wake up but it's a possibility. It'd be better if he slept, however."
"T-Thank you doctor."
I'm so tired… I hate these walls. Why are the walls white? This isn't my room…
God help me, wasn't that tohma's voice? Wasn't he on tour with the rest of Nittle Grasper?
Shit… I'm in a hospital.
In a hospital… not dead…
And it's far too cold beneath these blankets for comfort.
I should get out of here. Get out of bed, and maybe, I don't know, just walk out the door? I could hop out of the window… it's pretty big and we're on the first floor, I think, or maybe the second… Can't see from this angle. I don't want to see tohma. The door handle is jiggling… shit… I better just pretend I'm asleep.
The sound of his feet hitting the floor is coming closer and closer…
I can hear his breathe hovering over me.
"E-Eiri…" He mumbles; anxiety and stress intermingling in his usually calming and intelligent voice. He's sniffling… probably crying…
Please don't cry for me Tohma…
I'm not worth your tears.
"Why do you k-keep…" his voice breaks off in more sniffles and sobs, "D-Doing this?" I can feel the bed sink as he stretches himself against it, his head resting on my pillow, lips brushing against my cheek. I wouldn't breathe if the oxygen mask wasn't making me. Tohma hasn't come this close to me in so long…
"I-If you die eiri…"
But I want to die… can't you see how much I want it Tohma?
"I-I'll never forgive myself Eiri… I-If you die… I-I'll die too…"
He clings to the bed sheets with his shaking fingers, his warm breathe beating against my cheek as my heart pounds tightly against my ribs, choking me in nervousness as my intestines just seem to knot themselves together.
"E-Eiri… please wake up eiri… Please let me see those beautiful eyes of yours because… I-I…"
"l-love you…"
Love me?
I start to tremble… Tohma loves me? Tohma? Why would he say such a thing? Think such a thing?
How can he love a person so mentally unstable?
Fuck it. I open my eyes sleepily, roll away from him, and he jumps back a little, baffled I'm awake. I grunt as I reach my hands up to pull off that damn oxygen mask, which is a lot more difficult then it looks, the tube slipping out, and I throw it onto the floor as the cold air hits me when the blanket slides down. My chest is bare of clothing and wires piece beneath my skin to taste blood. The heart monitor beeps. I couldn't care.
"Eiri!"
I look at him, frowning, feeling guilt strike me like a bullet at the sight of his large turquoise eyes—usually so bright and warm, now dilapidated, with a smug red faded over the white as his eye lids shut halfway, daring more tears to come, a few dangling on his dark eyelashes. I can see his pink lips quivering. His clothing; which are tattered with rain, and his soaked blond hair glued to his forehead, water dripping between his eyes and spattering on the floor.
I think he's waiting for me to say some thing important or meaningful, or maybe ask what the hell he meant by saying he loved me. The clocks ticks; silence hanging between us.I can barely watch him stand there waiting for me to do some thing.
"I want a cigarette." I mumble, looking away from him and out that window. Still raining…
I hear him sigh, "There's no smoking allowed in the hospital."
"I know."
More silence.
"… Why did you do that?"
I look back over him wearily, the frown fading off my lips. The air keeps getting colder… I want to go to sleep. "You know why." I say, because he does; Tohma needs not to ask me questions, he knows me well enough that such things as that are useless between us now. We know too much of each other.
"No Eiri, I don't know why, and I won't know why until you tell me." He takes a step closer towards me, and tilts over to look at me directly in the eyes. I grit my teeth out of fear, anger, and the damn cold air getting to me. What does he want me to say? Does he really expect it to be so easy for me to admit that 'I love kitizawa, so I want to die and be with him' out loud? Or maybe some thing similar to, 'it's not fair to him that I'm still alive when he hated me so much.'
I can feel his breathe all too well. Him being so close brings back far too many memories, memories I don't know if they're better buried in a grave or out in the open. Memories of how we used to be and what we used to do, things I keep running away from in hope of forgetting…
I grab onto his shoulders and pull him closer. I can just tell what he wants from that look in his eyes… I don't know if I want it too. I'm sinking into the lust deep in his pupils and feel his mouth open and the hot air that exploits my throat.
We kiss.
:OOOO that ish the end! I hope I got tohma and eiri in character… ;-; I'm sorry, I'm bad at writing :crawls away: