Hey all!
I¡¯m relatively new to the ff.net writing community, although I have visited often as just a reader. I¡¯m pretty amazed at some of the talent I¡¯ve found, so I¡¯ve decided to create my own little account and add my own two-cents in. Anyway, this fic is pretty basic¡ªKenshin¡¯s got some time on his hands to ponder the unbridgeable gap between himself and Kaoru. Enjoy?
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, with all its gorgeous male characters, sadly does not belong to me.
~Eyes of Blue~
You don¡¯t understand, do you?
You¡¯re looking at me with those bright, beautiful blue eyes of yours. Those eyes that glow with naïve hope and joy and idealism. Those eyes that have never seen what it means to truly lose your mind.
So I offer you a smile, hoping to keep you from delving too deeply into my mind. Because I am afraid of what you would find there. Because I know it would destroy you, if you were ever to know the true depth of its strength.
It destroyed me.
You don¡¯t know about my dreams, do you?
You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to dream of drowning in blood, to suffocate in its metallic fumes around you, to feel it slowly seep into each of your pores until you know that surely, surely you will lose your mind. To feel hot rain soaking your body, and to stare up in horror as you realize that it¡¯s raining blood. To wake up choking on bitter taste in your mouth, to feel your stomach roil in disgust at your own past. To vomit silently with hot tears mixing with cold sweat on your face, to sob with horror and revulsion at your very own self until everything fades into the peaceful darkness of utter exhaustion.
You never noticed, but I always scrubbed my clothes and my floor particularly hard after those nights.
You¡¯ve never experienced true despair, have you?
You¡¯ve never felt the quickening of your heart as you spot your very first target, his steps easy and slow and comfortable as he strolls through the forest. You¡¯ve never listened as your very being shrieks at you, every fiber of you pulling away from the horror you know you are about to commit. You¡¯ve never seen the cold glint of your naked blade in the sunlight, heard your own cat-like footsteps barely punctuating the natural din of the forest as you make your way to your victim. You¡¯ve never felt the brief, foolish hope as a twig snaps under your heel that perhaps, perhaps your quarry will escape, perhaps you won¡¯t have to kill him, perhaps you haven¡¯t lost everything.
You¡¯ve never felt the cold terror settle into your bones, the sudden despair weighing down a hundred times more than before as the stupid idiot simply continues strolling.
You¡¯ve never felt the first splash of blood on your face, its toxic fumes filling your nose and your mind and your body, burning on your cheek even as it seems to draw the heat and the life from your body. You¡¯ve never stared down at your hands, clean and pale, wondering at how young they seem, wondering at how old you suddenly feel. You¡¯ve never scrubbed endlessly at your hands until the skin is raw and open with sores, staring as the water is tinted red with the your victim¡¯s blood and your own. You¡¯ve never realized that, maybe, your victim was a man just like you¡ªfighting for his beliefs and his survival in a cold, calculating world. And you¡¯ve never felt the powerful, incredible weight of a vision that one day, perhaps you will die the same bloody death as he.
Because you¡¯ve never killed, and you¡¯ll never understand.
You¡¯re looking at me oddly again, and I know from the wrinkly feel of my fingers that I¡¯ve paused too long in my scrubbing. I offer you a sloppy grin, and you turn away with an expression of both irritation and amusement, your beautiful raven hair streaming behind you.
Black.
You¡¯ve never hated the color black, have you?
Black is the color of those envelopes. Those despised thin sheets that were slipped secretly to me every day or so. Those envelopes that contained demons that, once opened, would eat you from inside out, would slowly consume your soul and your sanity until you were torn apart with your own cries for respite.
I would know.
Black. Her hair was black too.
I laugh softly, bitterly at myself, for you are nothing like her. She was soft, quiet, her porcelain face a pale mask of perfection, her eyes soft brown mirrors of pain and turmoil and solitude. She carried pain, and I carried death; we found comfort in each other¡¯s company. I remember many a night when I fell into a soft, dark sleep free of nightmares, the gentle scent of white plum wrapped tighter around me than any blanket.
But I have learned lessons that you could never understand.
I know that love is never meant for the likes of me.
You¡¯ve never felt your very heart torn and ripped asunder, have you?
You¡¯ve never fought without passion, without zeal, without hope. You¡¯ve never felt cold despair settle in your limbs, never known that you were simply blocking your opponent¡¯s deadly blows because it was in your nature. You¡¯ve never known that, even if you did win this fight, you were destined to lose overall.
You¡¯ve never prepared yourself to meet Death the same way you¡¯ve dealt with him¡ªfrantic, deadly, strong. You¡¯ve never gathered every last bit of your very essence into one¡ªlast¡ªswing.
And you¡¯ve never felt the world slow around you as you suddenly knew, knew that somehow, someway¡
She.
Had.
Gotten.
In.
The.
Way.
You¡¯ve never had to stare down at her face as she struggles to draw her last breaths, wanting, needing to help her and yet knowing you cannot. You¡¯ve never had to hold her in your arms, knowing that the rose her blood was painting in the snow would be the last flower she would ever give you. Her blood, that you drew with your cold steel lightning. Her blood, that she spills for your dirty, filthy, worthless life.
Her blood, that you had sworn to protect with your life.
You¡¯ve never felt your heart scream a thousand apologies, your voice imprisoned by the choking sobs forming in your throat, your tears the only words you can offer her as she slowly slips from your arms. You¡¯ve never screamed, screamed until your throat was raw and aching, the taste of blood in the back of your mouth warning of bursted blood vessels, and still you continue to scream¡ª
Because that¡¯s all you can do.
You¡¯ve never slowly died, inch by inch, day by day, for ten years, have you?
You¡¯ve never gone to sleep with the bitter, dark hope tucked painfully in your breast that maybe, maybe you won¡¯t wake up this time. You¡¯ve never lived a waking nightmare, a life of the walking dead, never known that your body was functioning only because it didn¡¯t realize yet that it should stop. You¡¯ve never lain awake, night after night, suffocating in your tears and memories until your own screams echo through the wasteland of your mind, yet clutched at those very same tears and memories at the thought of their leaving you alone. You don¡¯t know what it feels like to rub at the deep scars on your cheek, over and over and over and over, knowing that no matter what you do, they will never, ever heal.
You don¡¯t know much, do you?
It¡¯s easy for you, to stand there, to look at me, to smile, to love me. Yes, I know every one of those feelings you fight to hide with your hurried denials and your feigned harshness. Those big, glittering sapphires of yours are far too clear to hide anything. And so you continue to stand there, to look at me, to smile, to love me.
But you don¡¯t know much, and that¡¯s the only reason why you¡¯re able to continue.
Sometimes you grab me, shake me, beg me with your tear-filled eyes to share my pain with you.
And sometimes I don¡¯t know whether to laugh or cry at your naivete.
Because you don¡¯t understand.
My demons would destroy you. Already, I feel the hungry stirrings of something far too dark and far too dangerous within me¡ªhe would devour you, and with you every bit of light that has begun to seep into my life once more.
You don¡¯t understand how much you mean to me, do you?
You don¡¯t know how close I was teetering to the edge when you found me. You don¡¯t know what it feels like to press your own blade to your skin, to marvel at its hard cold kiss as it lingers at the skin of your throat. You don¡¯t know what it feels like to feel your resolve suddenly drain from you, the strength leaving your fingers as your knife drops to the ground with a startling clatter.
You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to weep in frustration that, once again, you¡¯ve failed.
You don¡¯t know how devastated you would be to discover the full brunt of my agony, do you?
But I do.
And that is why I can never let you in, no matter how hard you pound on my heart.
Because I made that mistake once.
And she died at my blade.
I don¡¯t think I would survive if that were to happen to you.
Oh, gods¡ªdon¡¯t look at me that way. With your eyes filled with warmth and joy and comfort, that smile on your face as though you could love me, really, truly love me¡
I know you can¡¯t.
No one could.
Heh. But you don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to live this life either. If it can be called living.
You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to finally feel a tiny, tiny flame of hope relight in your heart of hearts. You haven¡¯t felt the terrified confusion that follows the rebirth of light after so long a period of darkness; you haven¡¯t fought with all your strength against reaccepting life, knowing the heartrending pain that could very well explode at any moment and shatter you completely.
You haven¡¯t seen my dreams, have you?
You haven¡¯t stared at her still, lifeless form, her blood pooling about her, painting the snow a bright flag of my betrayal. You haven¡¯t watched as her face suddenly shifts, and suddenly it is your blue eyes that stare blankly in death. You¡¯ve never jerked awake, your body soaked in your sweat, your hair soaked in your tears, your breathing harsh and ragged as your heartbeat thundered in your ears, a painful reminder that you are still caged in this pained, tortured body.
You never awoke those nights, even when I stumbled frantically to your room to reassure myself that it was all a dream. You never awoke, even as I knelt down by your side, drowning myself in the peaceful sound of your deep breathing.
You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to watch you sleep, and know I can never have you.
So many things that I know, that you should never have to learn.
One day, perhaps soon, they will kill me.
But until then, I will be trapped in this half-life, forced to need you and know that I can¡¯t ever, ever hold you.
I know how much I¡¯m hurting you¡ªI¡¯m not as oblivious as my rurouni-mask makes me out to be.
But you know what?
It¡¯s better this way.
Because this way, I¡¯ll be the only one that has to die.
And this way, when I¡¯m gone, you¡¯ll still be there.
With your beautiful eyes of blue.
~*OwArI*~
Phew, my first fic ever! I went on a little angst-trip while writing it (which was tons of fun), and apparently I¡¯ve forgotten to do my history homework, which is due in four hours¡hehehe¡
Anyway, remember that reviews are chicken soup for the writer¡¯s soul. :)
