Sakura

It was there that I first saw you, sitting alone under the huge cherry blossom tree in the abandoned park. It was there that we had sat for hours on end, sometimes when the edge of the sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon, drenching everything in its soft golden light. Sometimes when the full moon shone down on us, seeming to make the soft pink flowers of the tree glow against the velvety black backdrop of the sky. Sometimes in the dull grey light of the early morning, the dew dampened grass soaking into our clothes as we sat. But that was the last thing on our minds.

It was there that I had found you and there that I had eventually lost you.

I can remember it so vibrantly, every detail down to the scents, the sounds in the background. I don't know what I was doing there in the first place, but I approached you out of curiosity. You were sitting under the cherry blossom tree, leaning against the thick, rough tree trunk, your long legs pulled tightly against your chest. The blossoms were tinged orange from the last of the light of the dying sun, as was your porcelain skin. You tilted your head to gaze up at me, and I saw the setting sun glittering in your eyes. Your appearance had left me breathless. The silky ebony hair and kohl rimmed eyes contrasted perfectly against your pale, flawless face, and I had thought your outrageous style was due to an excessive amount of self confidence. But it was just a mask you were hiding your real being behind; a timid, broken boy.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Your voice was soft, gentle, like silk. You held one of the small, delicate flowers in the palm of your hand, cradling it as if it was a small creature. My voice was still temporarily lost. I nodded mutely, and the smallest of smiles graced your plush lips. I never noticed the hint of misery hidden behind that smile, hidden in your eyes. From then on, we grew on each other, and I knew I could never have eyes for anyone else. I never believed in love or clichés, but I soon was falling into both. I thought this only happened in movies.

But just because it was like a clichéd scene from a film, didn't mean there would be a happy ending.

I came back again the next day. I wasn't sure what I was expecting; for you to be there or not. But you were.

You were laying under the cherry blossom tree, black hair splayed out on the short green grass underneath you. You greeted me with that soft smile again, shielding your eyes from the bright afternoon sun with one hand. I wondered how you could manage to wear a long sleeved sweater in this heat. We were completely alone and the world was basked in silence, save for the resonance of the cars roaring by on the highway in the distance.

I sat next to you, absently pulling out blades of grass as we spoke about things of no importance in soft voices. I found myself wondering if you felt as content around me as I did around you. I was much too afraid to get my hopes up.

I snapped out of my reverie as you stretched your arms over your head with a huge yawn, and your sweater rose up, revealing a tiny bit of a black star tattoo. You caught me looking and I turned away, cheeks painted red in a flush. Smiling, you exhaled tiredly and looked at me through half closed eyes, drumming your slender fingers softly against your torso.

"Did it hurt?"

"Nah."

I thought you were just trying to sound brave. I didn't know at that time that there was a pain so deep inside, so much worse than anything else, that you were just numb. Couldn't really feel anymore. Nothing really again, maybe the fact that you fought this so long on your own was brave. We stayed there, under the shade of the tree, until we both lost track of the time. Finally, the sky was darkening, the sun disappearing, and stars began to wake from their day long sleep, glittering down on the two of us. I knew I had to eventually go home, but I never wanted to leave your side.

When I had unwillingly rose to leave, you were still sitting there, alone. But I was too caught up in my own feelings to notice the smallest of whimpers as you cried softly when I left. Where you crying because of me, or was it because it was at that exact moment you realized your life lacked everything you wanted, everything you needed? When I turned to look at you over my shoulder, your back was to me, and I thought that everything was fine.

Weeks passed, and summer turned to autumn. The weather grew colder, and the days were slowly loosing light. Your eyes were growing dimmer, too. That devious little glimmer I saw each time our eyes met was slowly beginning to extinguish. The light I was becoming so accustomed to was burning out, way too fast.

I don't know what I was thinking; it was past midnight. Walking alone, hands stuffed into the pockets of my jacket, the near-full moon lighting my way down the cracked concrete sidewalk. Cold air biting at the exposed skin of my face. Breath turning to vapour on the cold air. I don't know what I was thinking; I didn't expect for you to be there.

The blossoms were falling, delicate tear-shaped pink petals scattered among the grass. Of course you were there, sitting among them. It seemed that you were always there. I wondered if that was where you went to escape it all, if this was your sanctuary. Maybe a tiny piece of you, somewhere in the depths or your soul, wanted me to come there and save you.

"I knew you'd come. I waited." You didn't look up at me. I didn't see that slight, warm smile you often greeted me with. There was just coldness. I knelt next to you, but your eyes still wouldn't lock with mine. Head bowed, locks of black hair covering your face. I wanted to know what was wrong, I wanted to help. I wanted my heart to stop aching. I asked what was wrong, and you said 'nothing'. For the first time, I didn't believe you. Still avoiding my eyes, still cold.

We sat so close to one another that our shoulders touched, we sat in silence, the minutes ticking by excruciatingly slow. Finally, you trembled violently, and although I still couldn't see your eyes, I knew you were crying. The sobs were quiet, almost inaudible, and the whimpers that you emitted were sad enough to piece my own heart. I placed my hand on your knee and told you that everything was going to be okay. I didn't mean to lie to you; I had just assumed that you could somehow pull through. But I had arrived in your life far too late to help. I don't think there was a chance that I could save you anymore. I nervously moved my hand to yours and grasped it weakly. It was cold, like ice against my own skin. I squeezed your hand in mine lightly, and you finally rose your head to look at me. My eyes instantly found yours, and I was determined to keep them locked. Your makeup had run down your cheeks, leaving wet, black tracks against your skin. You looked so broken, so completely shattered, but I still couldn't help but be astonished by your androgynous beauty.

"I want to be able to save you, to help you. Really, I do."

You looked away from me and began to weep again. My grip on your hand tightened, and I placed my other arm around your narrow shoulders, drawing you closer. I could feel your warm breath tickling my neck as you leaned against me.

"You came too late."

Placing a hand under your chin, I tilted your face close to mine, and your eyes fluttered shut. I could see the crystal clear teardrops still clinging to your thick, long lashes. Heart pounding. Cheeks flushing. The cool autumn air didn't really seem to phase me anymore. We both knew what would come next, and we both knew this would eventually happen from the start.

I finally pressed my lips to yours, felt you practically melt in my arms. Your breath tasted of cinnamon.

It wasn't one of those cliché kisses that made me see stars. It was awkward, rough, and wet from your tears. But it was filled with so much passion, so much longing. It seemed to last forever. I wouldn't have wanted it to be any other way, though. When we broke apart, I buried my face against the crook of your neck, tenderly nipping at the soft flesh. I whispered that I wanted to take you home. And you let me.

Trembling hands roamed over heated skin, hesitant, scared. Breaths came in short gasps. As I hovered over you, you gently pressed your lips to mine, while whispering two words that I never expected to hear:

"Hurt me."

Ribbons of grey scars and angry cuts laced pale skin. Tears fell. That night, all of your secrets tumbled from your lips, and I finally understood. We both tried to lose ourselves in the pleasure, while you tried to leave your sorrow and pain behind, to loose them in a haze of lust.

"Hurt me. Please."

I stared into your eyes, losing myself in their watery depths. I couldn't stand the site of the pain hidden behind your dark eyes anymore. You looked at me with longing and desperation.

"I can't."

Your long nails clawed at the back of my shoulders, strands of ebony draped across your face. Finally collapsing in a pile of sweaty limbs. You cried yourself to sleep in my arms. Once you were asleep, I let my own tears eventually fall. I now knew that I wouldn't be able to keep you for as long as I wanted. I could hold onto you as tight as I could, but you were still slipping through the cracks.

When I woke in the morning amid the tangled blankets and sheets, you weren't there. I hadn't expected you to stay.

By the time the first snowfall arrived, I had also been watching you fall, day after day. Those soft smiles never came anymore. You barely spoke, and when you did, your voice was toneless, bleak. Tired. The light in your eyes was completely gone. Dead. You were just like an empty shell of a human now, spinning out of control. But I still wanted you to be mine, me to be yours.

"I don't want to bring you down with me."

We still couldn't deny what we had. I loved you. You loved me. But sometimes love just wasn't enough.

The cherry blossoms littered the frozen ground underneath the thin layer of snow, petals withered and dead. A couple of the blossoms still clung desperately to the spindly branches, quickly dying, but still holding on nonetheless. We stood side by side under the bare tree, and I watched you shake the fluffy white snowflakes from your hair. A shower of ebony and pure white. Cold hands shoved into your pockets. A striped scarf around your neck like a noose. You looked at me and heaved a sigh, your breath rising in a wispy cloud of vapour on the icy air. I moved closer and captured your hand in mine. I was scared to let go of you for too long. I was scared that you'd disappear.

Night was falling rapidly, like a thick black shadow hanging over the city. The shrill cry of a siren sounded from somewhere in the distance, and you turned toward me. I couldn't read the expression on your exhausted, worn face. Just blank. Nothing really there. I stared into your eyes, trying to read them, trying to read what was behind them. Searching for some sort of emotion, but all I could find was sorrow. You were falling too fast for me to catch you.

"Maybe this was what was meant for me, maybe this was the plan all along." You smiled, but it was oddly haunting, depressed. Your voice was soft and tired, like an echo. "Maybe I wasn't meant to have a life, maybe I was always better off dead."

"Maybe your purpose was to make someone else's life better." Chest tightening, eyes burning. A cold, suffocating hand gripping my heart. The reality was setting in now, more than ever. In the back of my mind, I always knew you would come to this. But I always figured you'd somehow fight it. You were hovering on the edge between life and death. Leaning towards the latter. So close.

"Maybe that isn't good enough. Maybe I'm not good enough." Such clichéd words, but they still cut through me like a razor sharp blade. You exhaled deeply through your nose and bowed your head, the chilly winter wind tossing strands of black hair playfully across your face. It rustled through the leafless branches of the trees, like an eerie whisper.

"That's a damn lie, and you know it."

You didn't reply, and I could tell you were thinking hard. But I didn't know what you were thinking about. You took my hand again, lacing your frozen fingers with mine. Holding on tight.

"Tom." You looked back at me. "I love you."

I had been longing to hear those three words since the day I had met you. But now, they didn't fill my heart with warmth, happiness, like I had somehow always hoped. I knew this was it.

"I know. I love you, too."

Silence. You pressed your body close to mine, laying your head against the shoulder. I enfolded you in my arms and never once let go. We shared gentle kisses and touches, holding each other tightly.

Neither of us spoke for the remainder of the night. I knew it was too late.

I walked by the park the next day. The last of the cherry blossoms had fallen, leaving nothing but spindly, bare branches that reached up to the sky like skeletal fingers. And you weren't there.

I pass by the empty park every day. Sometimes I half-expect to see you sitting under the cherry tree, your legs pulled against your chest, a sly little smirk dancing on your lips. The baby pink, tear shaped blossoms scattered in your ebony hair. Sometimes I long to feel your lips pressed against my own again. Feel the warmth of your body against mine. I hope that wherever you had gone, you had finally found solace. I hope that there, you could finally be happy.

It was there, under the cherry blossom tree, that I had found you, and it was there that I had lost you.

I kind of like the way this turned out. A bit different than my usual style. Review please and thank youuuuu.