The truth is - I should have known better.
Having a crush on someone isn't so bad, especially as a kid. It usually fades away once you realize it won't go anywhere - painlessly and slowly, so you don't even know it's happening.
Except, I never quit.
It was addicting - like a drug, a habit - it was ingrained into me, it was a part of me now.
He was a part of me.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
&.
You're slowly awaken with a multitude of voices murmuring worriedly around you, and even that is slurred because for some reason you can hear them but you don't quite get what they're saying. Then the voices continue and then you feel hands slapping your face hastily.
Inhaling sharply, you lazily open your eyes and your crimson lips (not because of the lipstick) stretched into a wide, bitter, oh-so-tainted smile.
You boost yourself up cold iron rails that should give you goosebumps but somehow they don't because you're so numb, through and through and through.
You frown as you zone into your surroundings, taking in all the colors and voices. It sounded like there were people - and those people were talking. Was it about you? Did they want to talk to you?
"What do you want?" For some reason, you begin to giggle madly as you speak, finding the prospect of the people around you hilarious. The drunken slur seems to frighten the people, and it just makes you laugh harder.
The one in the red bandana speaks up, "Misty... you need to stop doing this to yourself." There's a brief pause and she continues, "You don't have to be be like this."
Be like this? What's wrong with being like this, huh? Her voice his shrill and it grates on your ears (God, you hate it) - and keeping the bitter icy smile plastered on your face, you say, "Be like what?"
That's the last second you're concerned about Bandana - because you're distracted by the pretty amber street lamps that light up the city.
Amber... the windows to his soul.
You laugh absentmindedly again, but this time it's lifeless and your eyes are tearing up for some stupid reason. It's not like you're sad - you're convinced you're past that stage. You rub at them hard, so hard that your cheeks turn cherry red.
It burns - and so does your heart. "Leave," you say abruptly. "I've got places to go."
"Where?" A girl steps forward and her navy blue eyes bore into yours.
You can notice the tears on her face, too - but you pretend you are blind to them and you turn away, arms gracefully guiding you as you waltz into the middle of the neighborhood road.
The raindrops drizzle and you feel them sprinkle your face as you begin to dance.
The dance is meaningful, the dance is silent - it's the ever-present tears on your cheeks, the drugs in your blood, and the him in your heart.
You have to choke down the bitter laugh that comes at the thought of that, because for some reason you're not dancing alone anymore - you're in those long, warm tan-skinned arms of his. He's leading you. Yes, everything's so clear, the warmth, the feeling -
You wish you could see his eyes, though.
You look up, hoping for those beautiful orbs of amber, but you're met with darkness. A void. Murky gray clouds suffocating the velvet sky.
You remember her name. "May!" you call.
May, in her red bandana, rushes to your call and fixates you with an intense stare.
"D-D'ya...know where Dawn is?" you ask. The words are horribly slurred and you don't miss the flinch that comes when May hears them.
"She's here. Let's go."
You climb into Dawn's red convertible - and for a small moment, there's nostalgia in your heart. There were once times where you rode in this car, and you were the happiest you'd ever been - wind flowing through your hair, grinning delightfully at the boyish smile beside you.
The wind angrily blows bangs into your eyes, and it burns - "You know, I think I was the first person to know him."
The girls in the car don't bat an eyelash at your voice, but you really can't bring yourself to care. Maybe they've discredited you, but really, they probably think you're insane. You continue anyway.
"All I can... All I can see is the amber color of his eyes. Everywhere I look, it's... all I see." Your pupils dilate when you look up into the sky, hoping for a flash of that amber. Maybe a star or two - but nothing. The remain shrouded by the clouds.
You want to go on, you want to keep talking - but you run out of words. You open your mouth and then close it, and suddenly the little life left floods out of your face.
"I want him," you whisper quietly.
Dawn shoots you a look and it is filled with sympathy and regret and sorrow.
You don't need her sympathy and regret and sorrow.
"Why'ya lookin' at me like that?" A supposedly icy smirk crawls onto your lips again, and you don't know why - maybe you want them to think you're insane.
Minutes pass by, and sometimes you laugh, sometimes you cry, and sometimes you're very quiet.
They don't like it when you're quiet.
"We're here." May looks to me hesitantly as if intimated by my presence.
You wonder why they're scared - you've known them forever. You're friends, right?
You feel chills run through your bones as you walk through the night, eerie breezes whistling in your ear. The impulse to dance is strong, but the moon quiets your soul. And suddenly, the quiet is gone, because you stumble upon that stone, that grey stone where his name was carved in, the name that makes you go INSANE.
Rest in peace,
Ash Ketchum.
You shatter.
"I want him!" You shriek and scream and shout and kick, and the jar holding in all of your hysterical sobs shatters into tiny, tiny pieces. Your own voice is foreign to you - it's scratchy and scary and loud.
You're dragged away, and the screams slowly begin to escape you and you simmer down as the giggles start again.
They turn into a hysterical laugh that echoes throughout the cold night, and you fall to the ground and hug your knees your chest and rock back and forth and chastise yourself for your impudent stupidity.
Heroes never live.
Why did you fall in love, then?
Maybe it was the amber eyes, maybe it was the boyish grins that got your heart pounding faster - whatever it was, it was gone now. You couldn't help what happened to him.
At least, that's what you try to convince yourself every sleepless, torturous night.
&.
You awake with a start on the wet, blue tiles of the gym floor. The scent of chlorine stirs up nostalgia and you start breathing through your mouth to get rid of the awful feeling.
Brock approaches you. "Misty..."
You can see the pain in his eyes, and you can feel the lurch it gives in your stomach, but you ignore it and walk away, because what is pain compared to the pain you're in?
You don't want to see Brock.
He reminds you of him.
Everything reminds you of him.
Outside in the shadow heavens, you find yourself dancing again. The dance slows down with the pace of your heart, which is burning away at the fire of a matchstick. Finally your knees give out and you collapse to the road, bruising your bare ankles red.
You lose yourself.
"Why did you do this to me!?" You scream, and you wheeze because you're out of breath.
The world starts to spin and you can barely see anymore when you continue, "I can't even sleep! And when I do, you're in my dreams!"
"And I never got to tell you! I never got to tell you anything! About... about how much I need you, and if... if you ever..."
If he ever loved you back.
It was too late.
A ribbon is tied around your eyes, and his hands - they were undoubtedly his - push you out into the dark.
It was a game of hide and seek, except this time, it was doomed to last for all of eternity.
Why did he go?
"Why did you go without me?"
You collapse in a fit of sobs, and that night slumber cannot find the strength to claim you.
So you whisper softly into the wind instead, the sorrow secrets carried away from your broken heart, but not carried away far enough.
&.
You pull the trigger.