Disclaimer: Are you kidding me? Of course I own Gaku— Bah! Who am I kidding? I'll never own it! *goes and sulks in the corner of the room*.
Dying Flames.
It had been nearly ten years. Ten long years. A decade had passed since he died—since Natsume died.
And I was still grieving.
He had died breaking a hundred promises, promises that I, had foolishly believed. He left me with a broken heart, drained of hope and utterly miserable. His severed bonds—bonds that I had held on to willingly, never imagining the pain, the suffering they would bring—did nothing to help those of us who were left fragile and broken in this world. Weak, frail, lost souls, trying hopelessly to find a way out of the never-ending cycle of pain that was embedded in life.
Many tears were shed at his death. Many people mourned his passing. Me, the most. He was my first love—and my last. And if there's one thing that I've learned after ten, distraught, years, it's this: love hurts. It pains the heart like no other weapon made to bring about destruction. Even after the person leaves you, you can't stop loving them no matter how hard you try. The person stays in your heart, filling it with ecstasy, and when they're gone, there's a large, gaping, hole in your chest. A void. A black hole.
You can never forget them. Their happiness is your joy, their sorrow yours; you just want them to be happy, no matter what the cost.
To me, his life meant more than anything else in the world. I'd have gladly died for him without another thought. His rare smiles gave me hope; he was what I looked forward to each day; he was my comforter, my confidante, and most importantly, my lover.
And when he died, the world ended— my world ended. But nobody else seemed to care. The word was still beautiful, birds still sang their songs and plants still bloomed. Life went on.
But not for me. My life turned to mere existence the day he ceased to breathe. I was lost.
He had told me many, many times that I was the one who had pulled him out of the darkness and given him a life. But those are just empty, meaningless words now. Even his promises mean nothing anymore. They're just other things to cry over. But still, he was worth crying over. Natsume. MY Natsume.
Especially his last promise, the one that makes me cry the most. I could still, even after ten years, remember every word. And his face—the face I would give anything to touch, to feel once again— would flash behind closed lids. And his eyes, they were the most striking feature. They would look into you and you would soon be lost in an entirely different world. I could still hear his beautiful voice—the same voice that had whispered words of comfort, of love—achingly clear.
Baka, I won't die that easily, I promise I'll live.
Liar.
I love you, Natsume.
I cried to myself silently, wetting the pillow with tears like I had done every single night since he had left the living.
I love you.
–Depressed Writer.