An AU "Love Hina" fan-fiction

In association with Too-Much-Free-Time Studios

A writer who's in the mood for angst, izzaku presents…

Oblivion


.oxo.

Slumped on the ground, his back leaning against the alley wall and knees tucked to his chest, shivering in his rain soaked clothing. He found that his tears had stopped. And his heart was void. The life had faded from his eyes, replaced by deep emptiness. He had been betrayed, nay, he had let himself be played. By his own heart. His own foolish, silly dreams. But his mind was only just slowly realising that. That her smile, that her loving expression , that silver of light she showed to him.

Her heart.

It wasn't for him.

It was all too lucky. Far too lucky for him,a useless and clumsy person. A pathetic excuse of a man, as Motoko said it. A stupid ronin, an idiot who believed in fairytales. Even his parents had abandoned hope in him, he couldn't blame them. Having a fool as a son, chasing after a memory. Love, from anyone at all, had eluded him. Scorned him all his life. After 19 years of being alone, how could he hope for anything more? Believing that a goddess would love him. Would bother to give him care.

"You were studying for Toudai, because of him?"

"Yep!"

She had shown her carefree and beautiful smile to him as she said that. The smile that wasn't for him.

Oh, how it bled him.

Any beatings, any punch or kick would have been easier to take than that. Worse than any stab that Motoko could have inflicted on him with her blade. Hitting him right dead center of his chest. Radiating through his body, and forcing him to flee from her sight.

He didn't know where he was going, or how far he had hoped to run. Stumbling through the streets and down alleyways, rainwater splashing at his feet and falling from above. At least one thing was right.

It was perfect weather for crying.

Which he did a lot of, after finally crashing to the ground in exhaustion from the running and the pain. Real men don't cry, he heard that saying before. There it was then. Further proof of Motoko's claim. The wind was flowing across his body, amplified by the alley's close walls. His body was slowly shutting down as hypothermia took over, robbing what little conciousness he had left.

It was so tempting.

He couldn't resist the silent embrace of oblivion, of relief of this hole in his chest. The world around slowly receded to black. Then a light from far away grew. He saw a small hand reach out to his, and grasp it gently.

"Kei-kun! Come on, let's go play at the sand box!"

"What...?"

"Hurry up Kei!"

"... Hai-hai."

He smiled.

.oxo.


.oxo.

My first, one-shot. Written in under half and hour. Very dark, sequel to be considered. Maybe it's not his time to die, maybe. Please review and give your thoughts.