The Rain Welcomed Me Home

His fist slammed into the wall like he knew it wasn't there,
"Calm down, calm down..." I kept repeating to myself,
thinking maybe he'd understand.
Wishing he'd just face me, and tell me that it's alright.
Or even yell at me, to show that he heard
what I had to say.

"Forget it, forget everything!"
he whispered harshly into the room.
And I was the only one who could hear him.
I could see him slowly,
breaking down.
Pulling everything inside himself once again,
and building up the wall,
brick by brick.
Everything was too much for me to watch,
I didn't want to cause him pain like this.
Every tear that rolled off my cheek,
was another second gone by.
It was a way that I kept track of time.
Knowing that, all this could be over soon.

I knew he was waiting for me to fight him.
To say something, that would send him over the edge,
so then… maybe, it wouldn't hurt as much when he leaves.
Waiting for it,
as if he knew it would come.
And maybe, he was right because after all, he's the one who knew me the best.
Everything that happened that night, I had encountered it in my dreams,
so many times.
Only, that was the last night I was going to stomach this pain.
I am my own demon. I ruined a lot for myself,
and he was the only one I had left.
I sacrificed so much for one man, and for what?
For a mere heartbreak.

The rain outside overpowered my thoughts,
pulling me back into reality.
I looked over at Vincent, and then back out at the window.
I wasn't sure where we stood,
but there was a vague familiar feeling that it gave me.
Vincent's eyes were glistening—I had never seen him cry before.
As he sat down in front of me,
I became immune to my sadness.
Like, it was no big deal, and it wasn't,
I guess.

"Vincent, I didn't mean to," I could feel myself half whispering in his ear.
Funny thing is,
I didn't even know if I should have been the one apologizing this time.
I put my head on my hands,
waiting for him to put his arms around me,
like he always did.
To tell me that everything was okay,
because it would be.
But, he didn't budge.

"You never mean to do anything," he slumped back into his chair,
lines etched onto his porcelain skin.
We sat there in silence, but I was thinking of something to say. Anything.
"Yuffie, I care about you," But, you can't do it. "But, I don't think I will be able to do what you ask of me."
I already knew. Friendship was already straddling the lines for Vincent,
and what I asked, was more.
"Yeah," I had a hard time trying not to break down.
"I do not know how else to tell it."
"What do you want me to say? That I saw this coming? That it's my entire fault? That I'm sorry?" I could feel myself burning up.
Anger boiling up inside me like lava,
overflowing, with boundless supply.
"It is not your fault. I do not know," he remained speechless,
an unbearable silence.
But his eyes told me otherwise.

By this time,
I was one with the rain and the rain was with me.
We danced together gracefully,
and there was no one but us.
It calmed me down a little, knowing I wasn't the only one crying that night.
I lifted my head off my hands.
There was something about him.
The way he spoke, he could make you believe anything.
He knew it too.
A feeling of betrayal struck me out of nowhere.
I didn't know where it came from,
but suddenly it was all I felt.
How could he leave me like this? Why do I always mess up?
Why couldn't he just tell me that he was joking and that he found a sense of humor so I could stop feeling like all I do is fail?
He looked across at me; his eyes shimmered under the light.
I wanted to reach out for his hand, to show that I would always care, but I just couldn't.
My arms were glued to my sides.
And I'm stuck feeling like a child again.
Maybe if I had done something, it would have changed everything.

"You'd better get home," he spoke with such a stern voice that for a second,
I'd forgotten who he was.
He waited for me to say something,
but I wasn't focused enough to get my words together.
I walked away from him,
and pressed my cheek to the glass.
My breath was hitting the window,
and then dissipating. In and out, in and out,
watching my breath was the only thing that reassured me of my existence.
My heart sank to the floor.
I pulled myself together and took one last glance at what I used to call love.
I walked to him, finding false strength I stretched my arm,
and stroked his cheek while looking straight into his eyes.
"I don't feel a thing," as the words left my lips, they scared even me.
I walked out of his house,
and closed the door tightly.
As if everything wasn't cliché enough,
I put my arms out and looked up into the sky.
The rain welcomed me home.

So this is an old story of mine that I decided to polish and publish. Reviews, criticisms, random thoughts would be much appreciated! Thanks in advance =w=