A/N This is a fic inspired by a girl who I care deeply about! Luckly though, the ending didn't end the same! We're going to prom together as of today!
"Thank you and goodnight!" Yamato Ishida yelled through the mike at a mob of howling female groupies. He and his band had just finished the third encore presentation of the night, and the young rock star was sick of singing for the evening. The fans however, would have kept him on stage for the rest of the year! It was time to go and spend the rest of the night in the hotel room, with an ice-cold beer, in front of the television, watching some late-night soft porn on cable. The best part of it all was the fact that he'd be up there all alone, without a soul to bother him for the rest of the midnight hours.
It's not that Matt didn't like having all the fame and fortune. That was part of the reason that he had gotten into the music business to begin with. There were a lot of really hot woman fans out there and although it sounded really conceited, they all though that he was drop dead gorgeous, and he knew it. He could have any girl that he wanted, but there was only one woman that could possibly mend the hole in his empty heart. He downed the last of his beer and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. Turning off the television, he pulled himself out of the chair and grabbed hold of an old picture incased in a faded, wooden frame, sitting on the nightstand amidst the mess of crushed, empty beer cans and other miscellaneous junk that didn't have a home.
Yamato stared at his pink-haired goddess, looking back at him through the glass. Her chestnut eyes sparkled even in the lifeless photograph and her completely posed, but warm smile melted his heart as it always had. The problem was that his love for Mimi Tachikawa remained unspoken. He hadn't seen her for years. She had probably found someone by now and it would be too late to profess his love. How would he say it anyway? He decided that the best way to let his feelings out was to write them down. That way, if Mimi turned him down, he could at least get a good song out of it. He grabbed his green, spiral notebook out of his knapsack, found a blank page in the otherwise disaster area of songs that spewed from his mind and stained the snow-white pages, and began to write.
For Mimi;
For years I walked beside you
But there is much that you don't know
A secret part inside me now
That haunts me wherever I go
We were young then
And the world we traveled was new
The rebellious teen that was me
Couldn't
Wouldn't tell you how he felt
So he just sat there silent
And followed where you went
All the while, with a need to touch you
But unspoken love remained suppressed
The times together were all treasures
Times apart
Daggers to my heart
Yet I could still not tell you
For fear of things said
That could not be heard
We grew and became distant
Moved on in different lives
And though I tried to forget you
You remained essential to my being
Now years of words unspoken
Have caused me immense pain
And desperately I beacon
For your kiss to carry it away
Out of sight
Is not out of mind
My desires cannot be fulfilled
Until I have you in my arms
Where I can whisper I love you
Please don't leave me hanging
Cause I can't take much more
Please mend a broken rock star's heart
And say you love me too
It's true
That my money can buy me everything
But my everything
Is only you
A single tear dropped on the page before he abruptly closed it shut. He tossed the notebook on top of the junk that covered the nightstand. Walking out onto the suite's balcony and gazed at the stars in the clear, early morning sky. All the time wondering if there was any chance in hell that his sweetheart would be thinking of him at that very moment. "Yeah right," he muttered, looking a minute longer before returning to the slum of his hotel room. Undressing to all but his underwear, he turned of the bedside lamp and was encompassed in darkness. Not bothering to straighten the covers on his unmade bed, he laid awake, thought's drifting to happier times. Whether or not he slept didn't matter, for thoughts of her even invaded his dreams.
Daylight came and a sleep deprived Yamato rose from the bed. Gathering his few belongings into his knapsack, he came across the notebook, where his soul was purged just moments before. Flipping to the place in the book, he took hold of the page and ripped it from it's home among all of the other trials and tribulations of the young boy's life. He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trashcan.
Grabbing the wood-framed picture last, he stared at her before slipping the pack onto his back and exiting the room. He stepped on his tour bus and started toward a new destination. It was the story of his life. Driving farther and farther from the garbage pail containing a crumpled piece of paper. Farther and farther form the contents of his soul. Farther and farther from written words that would at least for now, remain unspoken.
A/N: I hope you all liked that one! I consider it the best I've ever written! Please R&R!
~MPF