In the Flesh
You're dead.
You're dead and I killed you. You're dead and you're gone and you're cold underground. You're dead and you've lost.
Which means I've won.
Which means it's over.
So why are you still here?
I saw you die with my very own eyes. I watched you crash to the ground, in slow-motion, unreal. But it happened.
Of course it happened.
I must be going mad.
The trouble is I know I'm not. You're not a hallucination. You're there, in the flesh, skin and bones and baggy clothes. I can see you, hear you, feel you. It's like nothing's changed.
But everything has.
I feel so hollow and I don't know why. I should be happy. I've won. Nothing is standing in my way. I will be God of the new world, my new world.
Maybe it's because it's just no fun any more.
The only time I feel complete is when you're there. It sickens me, but it's true. The hole inside me doesn't feel so big when you're laying there beside me, big dark eyes calm, the corners of your lips upturned. And it's wrong, because you were the enemy, and you're not even alive.
I'm sleeping with ghosts.
Take now, for instance. I'm lying on my side and your breath tickles my neck, your fingers tracing my spine. I hate you for it. I hate the way you make me feel. I hate the way, every time I turn off the lights, you appear. Only when we're shrouded by darkness and alone. Only when I feel like I've reached the peak of insanity and you're about to push me off the edge.
There's such a long way to fall.
Misa thinks I've become cold and distant. Misa thinks I don't love her like I used to. Misa thinks there's something on my mind, something that's drawing me away from her, something she can't do anything about.
Misa's right.
It's not like I'm in love with you. I just…I don't know. It's so hard to explain. It's like when we were chained together and had sex every night and never spoke of it in the morning. So meaningful but so meaningless. So cold but so comforting. We both knew that I'd kill you, in the end. We both knew what was and what would be and what could have been. We both knew that we were enemies, but none of that mattered. Nothing really did.
I also hate the way you make me so sentimental.
"Light," you whisper, resting your lips on my shoulder.
"Mmm?" I roll over to face you. You stare at me with a strange look on your face.
"Do you miss me?" you ask quietly.
"Why would I miss you?" I demand. "I can't miss something that's still there."
"I suppose you're right." You sigh softly. "But…I mean…Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"Go on." I give you a hard look.
"I just mean me being alive. As your opponent. As your friend." You bite your lip. "Not just…this."
"I don't follow." I look at you blankly. You never make any sense.
You refuse to meet my gaze. Huh. That's unlike you. "Forget it. I'm sorry." You turn away from me. I blink and you've gone. Vanished.
In that moment, I feel cold.
We never speak of it again.