Li-kun: Ooooh. Another one. That's pretty good for me.
Silrinth: Oh shut up. You were just rambling one day and then you went back to read it and thought it sounded like Subaru and Seishiro.
Li-kun: Fine! Yes! That IS what I did! Just say the disclaimer!
Silrinth: Li-kun owns nothing of X. They belong to the ladies of CLAMP. If you sue her you may get a half-finished book, me, and a few animals, all of which have something wrong with them. Oh. And her Onee-chan. You can have her, too.
Li-kun: But only when I'm in a bad mood.
Silrinth: That's right.
I wish you were gone. I wish I was alone right now. But it wasn't going to happen. When I wake up today, and tomorrow, and even the day after that, you're going to be there. I know. I can tell. Because of the way you tilt your head when I tell you so. I've been stubbornly trying to forge my own path, and you've been following in my footsteps—pointing out all of the other paths that I've forsaken in search of the one I wish to possess. Even though you knew I would give up so easily if you just left. When you offer your hand you know I'll refuse it. And that's why you offer it. It's funny isn't it? I know you're just trying to torture me. Your smile is so achingly sincere that I know that it's not real. Even so, I don't know what I'd do if you were gone. If you actually did leave. I'm so accustomed to having you near me. I even know when you're in the room when my eyes are closed. I can smell the cologne you always wear, I can smell the cigarette smoke, I can hear when you flick open your lighter and when you inhale and exhale, and I can even pick out your light footsteps on the hardwood floors. It's going to hurt that much more when you leave. And I know you'll leave. Because that's what will hurt me the most after all of this. Right now I'm lying on my bed, on my stomach, in my small one room apartment. I've got my arms in front of me, the pillow under my head. I'm looking at you, with the bottom half of my face in the pillow. And you. You're sitting at my small round table. Your sunglasses are folded there, and your lighter is lying beside them. You're smoking a cigarette, and your eyes are as half- lidded as mine when you look at me, but you have a dreamier look. A softer look. The sun's catching you just so. Light is falling on both of us in this dark room. Yeah. It's going to hurt that much more when you do leave.
You once told me that it didn't matter whether or not I was here. That you wouldn't feel a thing if I were to suddenly disappear. Forever, even. You took a drag from your cigarette and let your eyes flicker over to mine, trying to gauge a reaction. I just stared at you. What was I supposed to say to you about that? The corner of your eye twitched, annoyed, and then you smiled in that damnably condescending way, as if I was a pretty doll. I asked why you were waiting. Why even wait for my time to pass, I'd told you before that I wanted you to leave. You blew the smoke in front of you, still with that smile. Don't lie, you had said. It's only half a lie, I bristled. You laughed at me. I had gotten up and stormed out of the café. Half an hour later, you followed me. You didn't even need to know where I was going. I know you remember that instance as a rather charming display of temper. I view it as a reminder of my tenuous existence.
You're still looking at me. I turn my head the other way, let the pillow warm my cheek and the wind caress the other. I hate that look. You're the only one who would ever dare look at me that way. It's your fault, you know, you say. I hear you take up the lighter, flip it open, take a puff. The rustle of cloth and the groan of the chair as you switch positions. The chink of the lighter on your sunglasses as you set it down again. Your unhappiness, you continue. I raise myself onto my elbows and turn my head to lock eyes with you for once. You raise your eyebrows in response, as if pleasantly surprised. I look back to my pillow. I'm not unhappy, I reply. I can feel your eyes boring into me, silently commanding that I explain myself. I have no regrets, I say. I'm living the way that I want to live. You can't really call that unhappy. I push myself up from the bed, getting off on the other side. I sit there with my back to you, changing. I pull a shirt over my head and glance back for a moment. You've got that possessive look on your face, in your eyes. As if my whole being belonged to you, body and soul—you'd take all of it. I repress a shiver, looking back to my front. I can feel your eyes on my back, and a burning sensation rushes over my shoulder blades. A blush that would never reach my face, and I was glad that I had pulled that shirt on so quickly. I can't stand that look.
I turn to see it once more, memorizing the exact contours of your skin, your face, your eyes. I want to remember that exact look. And then you smiled, knowing undeniably what I was doing. But I have to remember that look. Because it always makes me wonder. Who is the predator and who the prey here? Who is truly in control of the situation? Who is taking what without permission, and to what purpose? Because you're right. It is all my fault. I wonder if I'm the only one telling half lies.
Well, half lies, consequentially, must also be half truths.
Li-kun: How was that? Doesn't Seishiro-san seem possessive?
Silrinth: Everyone thinks there's something wrong with you now.
Li-kun: There's something wrong with you, too.
Silrinth: Fair enough.
Li-kun: Tell me whatcha think!
Silrinth: Oh shut up. You were just rambling one day and then you went back to read it and thought it sounded like Subaru and Seishiro.
Li-kun: Fine! Yes! That IS what I did! Just say the disclaimer!
Silrinth: Li-kun owns nothing of X. They belong to the ladies of CLAMP. If you sue her you may get a half-finished book, me, and a few animals, all of which have something wrong with them. Oh. And her Onee-chan. You can have her, too.
Li-kun: But only when I'm in a bad mood.
Silrinth: That's right.
I wish you were gone. I wish I was alone right now. But it wasn't going to happen. When I wake up today, and tomorrow, and even the day after that, you're going to be there. I know. I can tell. Because of the way you tilt your head when I tell you so. I've been stubbornly trying to forge my own path, and you've been following in my footsteps—pointing out all of the other paths that I've forsaken in search of the one I wish to possess. Even though you knew I would give up so easily if you just left. When you offer your hand you know I'll refuse it. And that's why you offer it. It's funny isn't it? I know you're just trying to torture me. Your smile is so achingly sincere that I know that it's not real. Even so, I don't know what I'd do if you were gone. If you actually did leave. I'm so accustomed to having you near me. I even know when you're in the room when my eyes are closed. I can smell the cologne you always wear, I can smell the cigarette smoke, I can hear when you flick open your lighter and when you inhale and exhale, and I can even pick out your light footsteps on the hardwood floors. It's going to hurt that much more when you leave. And I know you'll leave. Because that's what will hurt me the most after all of this. Right now I'm lying on my bed, on my stomach, in my small one room apartment. I've got my arms in front of me, the pillow under my head. I'm looking at you, with the bottom half of my face in the pillow. And you. You're sitting at my small round table. Your sunglasses are folded there, and your lighter is lying beside them. You're smoking a cigarette, and your eyes are as half- lidded as mine when you look at me, but you have a dreamier look. A softer look. The sun's catching you just so. Light is falling on both of us in this dark room. Yeah. It's going to hurt that much more when you do leave.
You once told me that it didn't matter whether or not I was here. That you wouldn't feel a thing if I were to suddenly disappear. Forever, even. You took a drag from your cigarette and let your eyes flicker over to mine, trying to gauge a reaction. I just stared at you. What was I supposed to say to you about that? The corner of your eye twitched, annoyed, and then you smiled in that damnably condescending way, as if I was a pretty doll. I asked why you were waiting. Why even wait for my time to pass, I'd told you before that I wanted you to leave. You blew the smoke in front of you, still with that smile. Don't lie, you had said. It's only half a lie, I bristled. You laughed at me. I had gotten up and stormed out of the café. Half an hour later, you followed me. You didn't even need to know where I was going. I know you remember that instance as a rather charming display of temper. I view it as a reminder of my tenuous existence.
You're still looking at me. I turn my head the other way, let the pillow warm my cheek and the wind caress the other. I hate that look. You're the only one who would ever dare look at me that way. It's your fault, you know, you say. I hear you take up the lighter, flip it open, take a puff. The rustle of cloth and the groan of the chair as you switch positions. The chink of the lighter on your sunglasses as you set it down again. Your unhappiness, you continue. I raise myself onto my elbows and turn my head to lock eyes with you for once. You raise your eyebrows in response, as if pleasantly surprised. I look back to my pillow. I'm not unhappy, I reply. I can feel your eyes boring into me, silently commanding that I explain myself. I have no regrets, I say. I'm living the way that I want to live. You can't really call that unhappy. I push myself up from the bed, getting off on the other side. I sit there with my back to you, changing. I pull a shirt over my head and glance back for a moment. You've got that possessive look on your face, in your eyes. As if my whole being belonged to you, body and soul—you'd take all of it. I repress a shiver, looking back to my front. I can feel your eyes on my back, and a burning sensation rushes over my shoulder blades. A blush that would never reach my face, and I was glad that I had pulled that shirt on so quickly. I can't stand that look.
I turn to see it once more, memorizing the exact contours of your skin, your face, your eyes. I want to remember that exact look. And then you smiled, knowing undeniably what I was doing. But I have to remember that look. Because it always makes me wonder. Who is the predator and who the prey here? Who is truly in control of the situation? Who is taking what without permission, and to what purpose? Because you're right. It is all my fault. I wonder if I'm the only one telling half lies.
Well, half lies, consequentially, must also be half truths.
Li-kun: How was that? Doesn't Seishiro-san seem possessive?
Silrinth: Everyone thinks there's something wrong with you now.
Li-kun: There's something wrong with you, too.
Silrinth: Fair enough.
Li-kun: Tell me whatcha think!