Dearly Beloved
Summary: "Dearly beloved.", he says. PeinXKonan One-shot story (c) Jennah Cruz
"Dearly beloved.", he says.
It wasn't real love. I knew that from the start. However, the love felt good, no matter how fake it was. Love. What's the meaning? It's when you have the strong feelings in your heart for someone. What's the feeling? You feel better every time they're around you. You're heart leaps from your body or just skips a beat. You melt once you catch sight of them. Why would we need it? There really is no need for love. It's just another feeling. Another emotion that your body creates. It's useless. So, it might as well be a word. It's because, once you have it, you don't wanna let go, but when you have to let go, there is a sharp pain in your chest. That's why, love might as well be another word.
Just hear my plead. Don't fall for the trap that is the word and feeling, love. It's the most pure evil that has ever been created. They say, "Fall in love. Being in love is the greatest thing ever. You just needa try it." Bullsh*t. I want you to listen to me. Just, leave love. Don't pay any mind to it. It's a trap, it's an addiction, it's the road to Hell. They will always have you in the palm of your hand. When you're the happiest, they ruin it, and then, they'll crush you in their palm. You'll feel every bit of pain. It kills you slowly. As the palm closes in on you, you're nothing more than a piece of meat. Still don't wanna listen to me and stop finding love? Then, you should listen to my story of the "love" that I thought I knew. You might have second thoughts.
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"Dearly beloved.", he says.
The moment my ears catch his delicate words, my mind is set straight. Find my dear love. Turning, and trotting down the concrete path toward the sound of his loving voice that I thought was for me. For me and me only. He isn't for anyone else but me. He's all mine. My heart beat speeds. Sweat crosses my face. My hands shake and quiver. Once I see his beautiful features, I take it all in. Orange hair, purple eyes, soft lips, fair skin. It's all mine. All mine for the rest of my life. Jogging toward his greatness. His great posture. A posture that I would never reach.
Now, I reach to him, and that warm feeling appears. As you slowly get closer, everything is better. His warm smooth hands touching mine. It's all too wonderful. Not even wonderful. It's too much. Nothing words can explain. My heart pumps, and I stand by his side, speechless. Hands on my hips, pulling me closer. The scent of him travels to me. The delicious scent that I would just love to eat up. Like all "lovers" would say, it's all they've ever wanted. Finally, when our mouths are a centimeter apart, he speaks. He talks with different and unfamiliar words. These words, they aren't the words that would exactly brighten your day. You would expect your love to tell you everything's going to be okay. Like Hell they would.
"It's over.", he whispers.
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Do you get the story? Love, it's just a trap to lure you into Hell. Love may feel great. It may be great. Now that you've heard my story, everything just shatters. Days later, you lay in your room thinking, What did I do wrong? I have a tip. It's not you hon. It's the sh*t head that took your heart and crushed it in his evil evil corrupt palms. Now, months later, you sit by the cemetery. You look at his grave. You continuously stare at it for the next hour. You shake your head and you think, What have I done? Instead of thinking that, just put a smile on your face. Make it the most maniacal smile you've ever made. Then, say to yourself, That bastard deserved it. It takes a couple of simple steps. Grab your weapon, and rip his heart out like he did yours. It's all too easy.
Now, everything that happened comes back to you. The "good" times, the sad times, the happy times, and the hard times. It all comes back to you, but please, don't shed one tear. Think, continue thinking. Please, hold back your tears, you aren't finished. Your heart begins to hurt, make it stop hurting. Think about all the things you can do now that he's out of your life. The final thing that should come to mind, is the sight of when you murdered him. The knife piercing his heart. The rich red blood. It's everywhere... are you scared? As the rich red blood spills to the ground, and his dead body falls, what are you to do? You hide the evidence, and act as if nothing happened.
Then, finally, as you look at him in dismay, you think, He looks so broken... so vulnerable... he's like this because of me. Staring at his grave all night... It may haunt you, but as you grow older, you learn to forget. When you forget, you learn to move on. When you move on, you get better. When you're better, you're life is finished. Just remember, never fall in love again. They're just playing you. Love is all a game, and it's never ever going to change.
