Your Goodbye
Dear Ran,
By the time you find this, I'm not sure it'll even matter. Because I don't think you'll have even noticed and even if you did, it would already be too late.
How long did it take you to notice I wasn't there?
When I started this, I had so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to tell you. But the hours passed and the paper remained untouched; it couldn't hold what I wanted most to say.
Did you even notice I wasn't there?
When everything first began, I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it, because it couldn't possibly be true. Everything I'd hoped for, everything I'd wished for was suddenly right before me. What I had always believed was impossible, until you smiled at me – and I thought maybe my heart would stop beating. I didn't think I could be any happier.
But I soon realized I was wrong, that I could be and my feelings for you only continued to grow. The time I spent with you was everything to me.
I remember the first date we had together, the first time you asked for my company. You brought me a rose and even though you didn't have to, you opened the door for me. I'll always remember that night. I'll never forget the crooked smile across your lips as you walked beside me or the moment you took your hand from your pocket and reached for mine. You were so warm, I never wanted to let go.
What did it take to realize I wasn't there?
Did you ever really care? I want to believe so. I want to believe that somewhere deep down you might still. Or maybe you never really did, maybe I've only deluded myself into thinking you did. Thinking that I finally had your attention, your affection – I finally had you.
But something changed; something made you pull away from me. I noticed when it first started, months ago, you started to grow distant. I didn't understand. I didn't understand anything and maybe that was the whole problem. Maybe I wasn't enough.
I blamed myself for so long. I tried desperately for your attention, I made a fool of myself so many times, but it was like you'd shut down. You wanted nothing to do with me, nothing more to do with us. You no longer saw me.
I spent so many sleepless nights awake and thinking of you. You plagued my every thought, even as I slept – I always dreamed of you. You haunted me.
My sorrow turned to anger, an anger towards you and what you'd done to me. You'd strung me along and cast me aside. Did it mean nothing to you, our sleepless nights together? The time we spent with one another. The words we shared. The night's you held me? My anger knew no limits; you'd broken me. A feeling I never wanted to feel again. And I fell back into the darkness, where my demons had first cornered me, before I met you, before Weiss and just after. Something I thought I had overcome, I felt used. I felt abandoned. I felt betrayed.
I was in chaos; I desperately wanted to talk to you. I wanted you to tell me everything was alright, I wanted to once again find myself asleep and in your arms – but you no longer saw me.
I was lost, I felt like I'd been cast aside and I couldn't take it. Not again. Not ever again. It was then that I made up my mind.
Do you even miss me?
By the time you get this, will you have noticed I'm no longer there? No, by now I'll be long gone. If you one day find yourself curious as to where I am, I'm sure that day will come one too late. Just remember that love does not conquer all, but remember I loved you. And I think I probably always will.
I've asked for a reassignment. Persia has graciously granted it, though I'm sure that has something to do with Manx. This is a decision I've come to myself. Youji and Omi wont know anything of it, only my goodbyes. You won't find your answer with them, if you ever find yourself asking. I left with my goodbyes and nothing more.
Knowing you, you've probably turned my room upside down by now, looking everywhere I'm likely to be. How long did it take you to realize I wasn't there?
I left everything. I took only what I needed, I left with no more. I wanted no reminders.
But even after all is aid and done, I wanted to tell you I was sorry.
I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be, I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to help you get through what you were going through. And I'm sorry because I wanted to be, because I foolishly thought I could be.
I'm sorry.
I'm no longer there.
Hidaka
His eyes read through the note for what seemed like the thousandth time before his hand dropped to his side, paper still in hand. His hand shook, the paper crumpling where he held to it.
Again, he'd read through the letter, searching, hoping for the words he knew were not there. His hands trembled as he slumped down atop the bed, his eyes distant.
Forcing himself, he focused eyes upon the wall, circling the room once again. Nothing had changed, everything was as it had always been and it made everything all the more unbelievable. The walls still held the posters they always had, the dresser still littered with excess change and forgotten receipts. The silver wrist watch left atop the night stand, forgotten beside the downcast picture frame – the watch he'd given him last year. Left behind. Everything was the same, down to the clothes still littering the floor.
I wanted no reminders.
The words repeated.
His hand moved on its own accord, moving to lift the frame, though he knew exactly what it held. A glittering dust surrounded the down turned frame and he found the glass shattered, shards missing, a corner of the wooden frame dented. His eyes once again traveled the room, scanning the walls.
The corner wall, where the only chair sat, still with the cleats he'd left un-cleaned draped over its arm. The wall was damaged directly behind it, a hole several inches above the chairs back, from where the picture was thrown. But this wasn't what made him stand, what made him move. It was the gashes that splayed several feet across the wall, destroying half of the windows blinds. Three long slashes evenly spaced from each other.
He pulled back the blinds, finding the window pane shattered around the hole that slammed through it, blood dried around the pieces surrounding it.
He lifted the picture, still within his hands. Staring down at the picture taken what seemed like forever ago. It was taken in the flower shop. The picture itself seemed to hold so many things. It was taken right after it all began, right after he joined.
Youji and Omi stood center within it, the taller blonde behind Omi, draping his arms over Omi's head as he tried to push him off. But that wasn't the reason Ken had kept it, he kept it because of what stood at opposite ends of the photo. Who stood at opposite ends. They had their backs turned to each other, though they had both turned to look over their shoulder, looking past the playful fight between them. Looking to each other.
Ran remembered later asking why the picture was so important. He remembered the silence that followed and the distant look within Ken's eyes before he finally answered.
"It's the only family I have," he'd answered, the small smile he held not quite reaching his eyes.
Ran lifted his head abruptly and jumped towards the dresser. Hurriedly, he pulled the bottom dresser drawer open, franticly pulling and throwing the forgotten clothes still within it over his shoulder. He paused only when his fingers found the item he was searching for. Tentatively, he pulled the worn, hard bound book from the bottom of the drawer, his hands shaking.
It was the collection of works from Robert Frost Ken had given him. The book somehow managing to always stay within the brunette's room rather than his own.
"Because you'll have to come find me to get it."
He wasn't sure he wanted to open it. He wasn't sure if he'd find what had always been there. Ran wasn't sure he wanted to know, because if it was still there it really would mean the end. It would mean this was all real.
Hesitantly, he opened the book, leafing through the pages until he came to the one with the turned down corner. "On a Tree Fallen across the Road", it had been his favorite and the poem took on a strange new meaning when he introduced it to Ken. It seemed to entrap the brunette. However, it wasn't the poem itself that interested Ran now, but the picture that was within it. The picture Ken kept hidden from prying eyes.
Ran took in the red fingerprints marring the corners of the glossy black and white print. He remembered the night he'd taken it; Ken had been sound asleep, exhausted after their tumble under the sheets. Ran had taken the photo then of a tussled brunette, asleep within his arms, Ran himself with his face buried in Ken's hair. He was smiling. One of the rare times it was actually captured. Ken had kept it, saying it was the only picture he had with Ran actually smiling and at him no less.
Ken had left it behind.
The one thing he was sure Ken would never leave.
I wanted no reminders.
Tbc
An. Another new fic in the RanKen world. I hope you're feeling the angst right now and I more than hope that you enjoyed it! Reviews are love.