Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of its characters; it all belongs to Aoki Takao-san.
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Angels, Cry Away Our Sins
Cold penetrates everything, deadness covers the landscape, nothing is everything in existence. Snowflakes dance in the wind, spiraling and zigzagging slowly to the ground. The white flecks tumble into the black trees that surround life in the forest…until they close in around a clearing.
Miniscule and spotless…draped with snow. That's the clearing: spotless…except the blemish in its very center.
He seems perfect—looks perfect.
But that's the outside.
On the inside, he's tainted, fragmented, sinful…a soul in which the darkness dominates. But everybody—every human—has their lights and shadows. Thus, he has good within, pulsating in a fold in the fabric of soul. Tainted, fragmented, sinful—misled. Innocent, affectionate—troubled.
Poor boy…grew up too fast. Saw too much too soon. Life gave him hardship, he struggled through, and now he's a stronger person—at the cost of his childhood and purity.
Poor soul….
The snowflakes dazzle his eyes…and he watches them, transfixed. Indeed, he loves the snow and ice of his homeland…he belongs, being the master of an ice wolf.
Longing sits in his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes. They hide so much—hide the pain and delicateness and love—but the longing is there.
Longing…for something more.
For another person, one who will love him and complete him.
And he knows who this person is, this other boy….
This other boy causes balance in his spirit…and he finds comfort that the one he loves shares his feelings of taint and uselessness and suffering…yes, consoling to his heart.
Slender, long, black eyelashes move downward, lubricating the wet landscape of his eyes. They brush his skin, though he does not truly feel them.
And back upward they go….
Click.
He switches the light on.
Cre—ak.
He closes the door behind him.
Crick.
The floor groans underneath his weight.
Kai Hiwatari looks in the mirror….
A teenager, a boy—gray bangs hanging limp and black hair complementing—auburn eyes staring blankly with dark half-moons contrasting under them—skin sun-deprived—cheeks etched with dark blue triangles: stares back.
Oh…the person who means nothing. The person who is nothing. The person who's a useless waste of air: That's who Kai sees in the mirror.
Dreadful….
"Existence is pointless."
Kai's voice is oddly hoarse, unused for a long while.
"My existence is pointless. There is no one who loves me, needs me, or wants me…."
One smooth, pale finger runs along a triangle in the mirror, caressing the cool glass reflection of blue.
"There's only one thing I live for: you. But you don't love me, or even like me."
Empty eyes flicker with pain.
"So why live for you? It's just pointless, self-inflicted agony…."
The finger is removed from the glass. Like magnetized, this finger and the others on the hand come together. Gradually, they curl, furl, into a fist…a fist representing all the fury and rage and hate of self and the world that beats with Kai's heart, but he cannot express: It all comes out as apathy, resulting in the numbness he feels at present….
"But I have to live for you…because I want you to know how I feel. I want you to know of the suffering I endure. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day…I count them all, a collection of useless numbers ticked off, one-by-one…the amount of time I spend obsessing over you. I want you to know…. And it doesn't matter what you say in response. Hate me, snub me, shove me away, admit your own feelings that I know do not exist anyway…your reaction doesn't matter because my existence doesn't matter. Whatever happens, happens. Whatever is said, is said. You will no doubt think of me as the worthless speck I am once I've spoken out…and then I can end this miserable life.
But only when I know the truth of what you think of me."
The reflection in the mirror flickers for a moment—Kai narrows his eyes suspiciously.
"You can't hate me any more than I hate myself. No matter how much loathing you feel for me, it won't measure up to the amount I feel for myself. With all my soul, I despise my very being, because I am weak for feeling love, I was weak for making friends, I was weak for listening to my grandfather—every thing I did, I do…is weakness.
And, with all my soul, I love you. Though I live for you. So I love you, but I hate myself for such, though I live for you—and hate my being."
A smirk twists his mouth.
"A vicious cycle…isn't it?"
The smirk falls…solemnity settles in again.
"And I won't stop living that cycle until I tell you of it. Maybe I want you to feel sorry for me—and that, in its own, is pathetic, those actions on both sides. Maybe I'm holding on to some speck of hope that you love me in return. But hoping is useless…like me. Coincidental."
Poisonous disliking, venomous confusion, utter negativity course through Kai's veins, mixing with the blood and going to his heart. His heart—the advocate of his actions. And thus, it tells him what to do, in the whisper of its hammering beat….
It flickers again—the image in the mirror. Auburn eyes widen at the sight—can this be?
Apparently, for it happens again.
And again.
And again—until the picture fully morphs into…him.
Crimson bangs frame the pointed head. Hair spreads out like wings. Crystalline-blue eyes shimmer with nothing. Skin is the same hue as Kai's….
This is him—this is "you"—this is Tala Valkov.
Now, Kai's eyes are wide with fear, with confusion. How can this be? …Implausible….
No…he can't have this. He can't have the object of his heart see him as such. He can't tell Tala like this….
Fury, rage, hate inside the heart…wind back with the muscular arm.
It won't happen this way…he won't let it….
Said arm extends forward, as though in slow-motion yet fast-forward at the same time.
Smash!
Tinkle, trink, clack….
The spotless glass of the mirror shatters into a hundred tiny, dangerous pieces, scattered randomly across the entirety of the small bathroom.
Exhaling heavily, swiftly: Inhaling heavily, swiftly.
Kai stares at the brown papery substance that was behind the mirror. He studies it absently, unnoticing of the piece of glass that falls from the top right-hand corner, slowly, lastly.
Clink.
Exhale…Inhale….
One knee plunks to the ground. Auburn eyes scan the shards. Something glints in the light…red….
Kai looks down and takes in the sight of his arm resting on his knee…one tiny slit across his forearm. Interest peaked, Kai raises his arm for study….
And for the longest time, he stares at the drops of blood welling up, never moving outside the premises of the cut.
Finally, Kai relaxes his arm and gazes downward. Lowering himself onto his stomach, ignoring the poking of glass, he examines each piece individually…
…until minutes, minutes, minutes have passed, and he finds the one…with an edge laced in his blood.
Kai picks up this certain piece, studying the image in it, blinking rapidly in attempt to change the picture from Tala to himself, as it should be…but to no avail.
Scowling, glaring in anger, he acts upon impulse, ignoring the guide he disregarded so many times before: his heart. Digging the glass shard directly into the cut, he relishes in the strange relief that washes over him at such.
For moments, he sits, feeling the stinging delight—until it becomes too much and he rips the shard out of his skin.
Dark blood wells up, but only a diminutive drop dribbles down his arm…such a contrast to the ghost-color of his skin.
And a small smile curves his lips….
…
Hours pass….
Hours….
Pointless…aside from the temporary relief and immunity to negativity Kai feels when that glass shard slices into him….
But every time he does this, not only is his skin cut, but so is his soul….
Though the cuts on the former will fade, the cuts on the latter will scar and remain for eternity…like sin….
And the hours go by, and the hours go by….
Until he's had enough.
Kai realizes the long-lasting pain he's inflicting. Recognizing the fact he's putting himself in over his head, he stops cutting…and stares at the wounds….
All on one arm, the cuts spill life's liquid, slowly and surely. The once-unblemished glass piece is now stained with red…covered in it.
Sick…of himself. Of his weakness.
Fed…up.
Speckling blood, tinkling like a bell, the glass shard flies across the room and hits the door.
"No…."
Rusty voice…reverberating. Eyes…displaying pain, confusion.
Confusion….
"No…."
Stands up.
"I will not live this way."
Clenches fists.
"I will not continue this life of weakness and misery…"
Narrows eyes.
"…not without you, anyway. You can help me—you understand me. Don't you, Tala?"
The snowflakes keep dancing with the wind. He keeps watching them, fascinated.
Waiting…?
Yes, he is waiting, but he doesn't think the one he loves will come….
Darkness has settled…and there are no lights. Not in the sky, not tonight—the clouds producing snow cover the stars and moon.
He looks toward the sky, reveling in the snow touching his cheeks, melting on contact, sliding down like teardrops. Ah, life—it's beautiful, though confusing….
Tonight is a blessing to this boy. Existence seemed worthless—but the sight of snow falling, it's just so tranquil and gorgeous—so simplistic and meaningful. To him, anyway. It's not sufficient though…not enough to satisfy him. Enough to satisfy his mind, yes…but not enough to keep his heart happy in the long-run.
Only the one he loves can do that….
But the snowflakes are nice…and he'll watch them for a while.
Their delicate like lace, unique like every person.
Unique like every person—It's as though they're a reflection of what's in your soul. Look at one, examine it, compare its intricate design to that of your soul, appreciate the beauty and significance of your life like that of the snowflake: One snowflake is marvelous on its own, but several create a wind-induced dance; one person is a gorgeous individual, but many make up the world as a whole community, separated but should be united.
A deep reflection of life…running through his mind….
He stands there for ages, just thinking, just pondering, just wishing for him to be here…
…and then he is.
He hears his name called…and spins around, red bangs bumping his face.
But no one's there.
"A trick of the wind…."
"Tala."
It's there, suddenly and clearly…his name.
Tala wheels about on his heel, and there he sees…Kai Hiwatari—his love.
(That's when Tala began believing in fate….)
"Tala."
The voice used to be admirable, strong, confident—like the stride. But neither are such now.
Tala Valkov notes the figure sauntering towards him is hunched, arms hanging limply, one shaded with blood; the feet drag. And the voice is void of anything and is hoarse.
That's not the Kai that Tala knows.
"Kai? What's happened to you?"
Everything is silent: Kai stops walking.
Exhale…Inhale…both boys do. The wind does too….
"You. You happened to me."
Exhale…Inhale….
"What?"
"You. You happened to me, Tala."
"I…don't understand, Kai. What do you mean?"
Exhale…Inhale.
Grabs his bleeding arm.
"Emotion is weak. I believed that for a long while, you know? Then I made friends, somehow…but I betrayed them. And I don't believe for one second they've taken me back—it's a farce, just to preserve my feelings. Hm, how sweet. But I shouldn't have let them return my feelings to me to begin with. And therefore, I bid them away.
But then, you know what happened? Something didn't leave. Something I didn't even know was there didn't leave when I bid away emotion: Love. Love, for you, of all people, Tala."
A lot of words spoken by Kai Hiwatari—more than the usual, brief, to-the-point words. But this point takes a boatload of explanation…explanation that Kai does not regret giving: It's all true. And he wants Tala to know all this. Maybe it will end the suffering?
On the other end…how is Tala to respond to something like this? It's unbelievable, inconceivable…did Kai actually say what Tala heard?
"…Love me? Love me, you say you do, Kai?"
"…"
That hits hard, unexpected: Who knew that was under the surface of Kai's tough coldness? Tala certainly didn't…and he thought he knew Kai, at least a bit….
Obviously, the redhead had misread his comrade—he didn't believe Kai had anything positive like love inside his soul…but this had been proven wrong. Until of late…before Kai took up life as a hermit….
Why did Tala ever believe Kai had nothing good in him, though? If Kai had love, Tala reasoned, certainly Tala himself could…. What was most disturbing to Tala then was that he realized he did have love in him, just then….
White…that's snowflakes. But with the wind and the winter, it all seems blue. Odd, but the world emits a blue aura in the winter, blue like the ocean or the twilit sky…and this very blue lights up the atmosphere for the two youths in the center of that clearing, now pockmarked by two tainted souls….
But there's more than that—much more. Not just taint, but childlike naivety and innocence hidden away, locked like a bird confined to a cage of sin—the way everyone else's innocence and naivety is.
And the youths want to let the birds fly….
Snowflakes streak down his face like angels' tears…and Tala strolls forward. He doesn't stop, not until he's half a foot away from Kai. The latter stands his ground, totally unmoving…and he waits for the pain he knows is coming. Not that he shows this expectancy on his features. Quite the contrary…both teenagers appear rather indifferent to all aspects of life at the moment….
Something proves otherwise…as Tala leans in.
Goosebumps of mirth and chilliness rise on the two sets of pale skin…black eyelashes brush cheeks…crimson droplets cling to the skin and slither down it…and pink lips, as tender as the soul, lock in a flash of impulse and irrationality.
But it's the best moment of such either boy has ever experienced…despite the shock both feel at Tala's actions.
The angels' frozen tears keep falling, gently wiping away the sins of humanity and its rejects.
Exhale…Inhale…
End.
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A/N: I spent a while on this fic, maybe more than usual. And I like every aspect of it. I certainly hope you all enjoyed it too. Even if you didn't, reviews are appreciated! Thank you very much!
have a nice day
CyborgRockStar