Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Resident Evil.

Brokenhearted

by Seraph Wes W.

- For the need to give up the facade, face the music, accept the truth, seek the forgiveness, reciprocate the concern and give back whatever is taken -

I saw you so despondent. Was it the loss of someone who once mattered to you more than the world ever did that had entrapped you? You were the one who chose to end this, didn't you? Then why are you the one crying rivers of tears whereas I could only watch you from where I was, incapable of flooding the goddamned pipes because I am the one who was shot in the face by you? My god, you're the hypocrite aren't you? I couldn't believe those reddened eyes were a sign of your regret because you had listened to your comrades who believed ridding me off the face of this world is the rightful cause. Please, stop the pretense, you're making me sick.

So what now? Are you going to quit the military and make babies now? Are you going to marry the blonde who has always been by your side since the first time we all met or date the African tribeswoman who is a decade younger than you? Or should I say partner? That very word sickens me right to the core because of their imbecile comprehension of this noun. Mediocre, is what they are. They work with you, keep you out of trouble, take you out for drinks and that's it. I was the one who fit the bill in every aspect of the word—looking out for your ass at work, listening to you jabber about your favorite sport and Holiday, taking your hand at the 1996 New Year's Gala Ball when you were too shy to even tell me you wanted to dance, and last but not least, tucking you in bed and wiping those tears away from every nightmare you had. It was me, and always me. Does removing me from your life make it easier to move on? Move on from this love-hate relationship we have compelled ourselves into? The immoral flesh desires we had conjoined day and night after, losing our need to identify us as an entity. You wanted it, and I wanted it. Until what? Until you had to define us; define what we are having to the whole world? You and your selfish needs. I was harboring a plan for us, and if that had involved me risking my initial work for the organization, doesn't that conclude how much you had mattered and altered my life?

No, you just had to be the stupid buffalo who needed everything in black and white.

And I was the insane lab rat who wanted to give you what you needed.

What am I, a fifty-year-old rambling the setbacks in my life when you appeared? You jeopardized everything! You. It was as good as socking me right in the face with your puppy eyes and mewling pleads. Dammit, do you understand the dilemma you had me in when you watched me died before your eyes for the first time? You caught me in a split second's moment that I maybe, possibly, perhaps, subconsciously, could have been making the worst decision of my life. Thankfully I didn't hesitate and it still went along as planned, or pre-planned, my ascension to being a God while you stood there listening to me uncovering the truth in an event that led to my eventual death. Even then, you had the same red eyes as you are bearing now, so crimson that blood threatens to pour out of your soulless irises. Stop it; stop pretending like you care.

You don't give a shit.

Stop tormenting me with your lies.

If I had the strength I possessed in my breathing days, I would choke the living lights out of you if you don't hold the waterworks. Or I will break your skull into that stale-yellow wall right behind you. Do you know that the soft sobbing whispers you muffled into your pillow every night is echoing and ringing within my walls every second? I cannot sleep, I cannot think because you keep me up, keep me here, and keep me from finding a way to exit this ghastly phase I am encountering alone. Alone. Yes, I have no confidantes and I have no comrades unlike you, I have always been alone and solitary. I was fine the way I was, until you barged in and broke my walls down.

My concrete walls that I have built brick-by-brick, laid piece-by-piece with my bare hands in the midst of my confinement with the other twelve children.

You and your repulsive world of roses and violets.

If you had so wanted a beautiful life, you should have steered full speed out of my way. I gave you the warning. I told you I was no good for you no matter how much I had wanted a taste of you but you, you insolent brat. You had to ruffle my feathers and call my hand a bad game played. You wanted to take some risks in the fire you lit and I was more than willing to burn you. I was your calling. You know it. You and I both knew this union would change something, if not everything, forever. Soon, it was no longer just the blind passion you were indulging as an individual, you were turning parasitic. I should have seen the red light and pulled the brakes. I wasn't going to give up everything I had done the last forty years for you—a loudmouth who can't even keep his mouth shut about our affair.

Thus, it has resorted to this now. Me, the once superior living God, turned to ashes and burnt to crisp as I watch you, the pesky still-breathing mortal, sitting in your own room, freshly awakened from yet another nightmare where my voice screamed your name into reality. And again this time, I couldn't dry those same tears from falling. Two years and I am still watching you repeating the lifestyle of a walking dead. Two years and I am still here, unable to find a way out of this misery we both are in. I know this room better than that pathetic excuse of a sister you have at the back of my hand. It's been eig-nine months since she last saw you and your fictitious front. I am, with all honesty, still baffled that she did not see the "Save Me" sign plastered across your forehead. Your room, which you forbid anyone from entering, is a living shrine of us, with the very limited number of photographs you had tried sneaking up on us, most of the time in the peeving mornings when I could not be bothered to put up a fight against a camera.

Your unwillingness to forget is the threshold of my imprisonment, although there is probably nowhere else I would rather be after weighing all forms of possibilities. Sometimes, I wonder if you unknowingly knew what you were doing by missing me; because whenever you quietly called my name in your mind, that voice weakens my every resolve to continue hating you and in exchange, increases a millimeter of that regrettable remorse in my conscience.

What do you want from me?

Do you want to forget about me, about us?

Because if you want to, then for fuck's sake do it already! I'm all worn out from your procrastination and aching subjugation over me. I was always the one in control, I possess you. I could leave you breathless in your seat with just a twitch in my smiling line or gasping with a featherlike stroke to your nape with my fingertips. That swelling desire building inside travelling southward straight to your groin is tantalizing. We burned in the locker room after midnight as I remembered your hands snaking over my shoulders, holding onto me for support when I tore the shyness from your first time. The tenderness I showed then was one of the many things I never knew I had possessed. You opened my eyes to the abandoned emotions I had lost since young, or at least, you once gave me the ability to kiss away someone's tears.

And here I thought I was the serpent who led you to damnation.

Unfortunately, you were the forbidden fruit that I bit into.

I will be transferring to the Military Outfield Deployment Agency starting tomorrow, Wesker. It's kinda like the action team in BSAA. I won't be home as often as I am anymore. Just thought you should know.

Wait. If you're not here, what I am supposed to do? Babysit your house for you? Don't think for a moment I'm letting you out of my sight after you have me trapped here for two years. You selfish bastard, you don't get to make the decisions.

Maybe I'll team up with good, motivated people. You know those motivated people who can get me out of this state I'm in, right? It's about time… isn't it?

What on earth are you talking about, you ignorant cretin!

Do you know why do I always talk to myself like this? Because I feel like you're here, with me. I don't know why you are here, if you are I mean. But I guess… I guess I was giving myself a hope that maybe someday… someday I will be able to see you again.

Stop it! You lying cheat. You're the one who kept me here. Your puny glimmer of hope. If I had a way I would have appeared and told you to get on with your pathetic life and leave me in peace!

So two years. Two years it is and my magical fantasy didn't happen. I cannot delude myself anymore. You're gone… I was the one who ended it.

Yes. Admit it, you ended us. You were the brainless one who didn't account for sentimental values and only the ergonomic comfort of humans who rarely know the evolution of—oh fuck it, you instead think the whole world will thank you for your little heroic act of stu—

I'm sorry.

Crap.

I'm sorry I hurt you, Albert.

Don't call me that.

I've reaped what I sowed.

Stop it.

By losing you.

Shut up, Chris!

I wanted us. I wanted it so badly that when I lost it, I think… I couldn't take it. I've given you everything, all of my heart and my soul. All of what makes me… me. You were my everything.

If only you had known, you have always been the firsts of my many too.

Since you took it all away, I wanted— Like a kid, I wanted to take away what's yours too. What gave me the righteous cause to do it was when BSAA wanted to take you down. It was my alternative, my key to finding you again. I devoted in the researches and reports, almost too fervently. It was the only way.

Fervent? Hmmm… I didn't think you were capable of big words, Chris.

Then finally, in Africa. I was scared. No balls, scared shitless when I bump into you in the ruins. A part of me still wanted to talk you out of all the crazy shit you arranged yet the other half knew I couldn't compromise the mission. Then Jill showed up all manipulated by your little device… Friends, Wesker. Why did you hurt Jill? I hate seeing people hurt and you just had to do that. That anger boiled and I was seeing red, and then, I couldn't think anymore.

You had a point to be scared. Jill's sacrifice for you back at the mansion would have been a good cause if you had not been so persistent. But, persistence is what makes you, Chris. And correction, I did not hurt her. She was giving me problems and I merely restrained her.

Everything else started falling apart quickly. Then you wanted me dead.

Oh my peaches and cream pie, what would you have done if someone have royally fucked up all of your plans? Clearly you're not the only one capable of seething red.

But I regret it. I still regret every single fucking day.

Good, your ability to cuss has returned.

I wish I could still touch your smiling line, you know the one you always churned at the tiny corner of your lips when you're hinting me to the locker room? And also your slicked-back hair that never seems to fall apart no matter how aggressive we can be at times. Or your caffeine-soaked lips that I can drink from the mornings when we woke up together.

I haven't seen that smile in a million years.

That was the us I wanted, Wesker.

And I have given them to you, haven't I? A fruitful two years.

I didn't know you had given me so much until I lost it. I am… selfish.

Stop the self-pity. It doesn't become of you.

Albert, I've missed you.

Don't say that. Dammit.

So much, so very much.

Fuck it, Chris. Fuck this.

Fuck all of this. Two fucking years, enough is enough. The Chinese says that by amassing whatever spiritual—oh fuck that. Even if it takes my soul straight to Hell—yeah, fuck that too. Curse it. What do I have to do to just get my goddamned words across! My head is fucking hurting, shit. Bloody white visions enrapturing and then the pain suddenly subsides. My feet are heavy and everything is disorientated. What the fuck is going on? Now the room disappears and I only see the color white. It's empty. Is that what it becomes of now? That he decides to move on and my world will become as vacant as this space? Will I be alone again, with nothing to put my devotion to? Have my thoughts gone out to him? I have yet to tell him to move on. I need to tell him. I need to get to him to say yes, he will move on. I need him out of this warped rhapsody. Yes, I Albert-fucking-Wesker am a pathetic helpless creature right now. As much as I hate to admit this, I suppose it is far too obvious that there is nothing I can do now. If you must know, I am still horrified at my defeat that was meant to be insurmountable, or I meant to say preposterous! What have you done, Chris? It was impossible! The once-feared-by-many, gifted, astute, perceptive, accomplished scientist who stood above men possessing extraordinary caliber defeated, overthrown by meek humanity. Where has my glory gone? Without my researches, without my experiments, without the virus, I am back to nothing. You have reduced me to nothing. And there is no value when you are nothing. I would rather disintegrate than to become a piece of ignoble nothing! Burn, burn it like paper into ashen nothing. But before I burn to nothing…

I love you.

"And I you too, Chris."

And when I open my eyes this time, I feel the weight of the same hands I've embraced for the first time on my shoulders again as I sinfully kissed the same tears likewise. And yes, I didn't tell him to move on. I know the strength of my words when I said it and its capability to restrain every bit of his rationality. On the contrary however, I am also but in full awareness to his insatiable longings of me. He needs me. The reflections in his eyes are basking with mirth at me. So who am I to deny his needs now that I have known truth? Though I don't know how long I get to do this…

I'll trust you again just this time, you selfish dear heart.

Reviews will be nice.