Love Came Just in Time
By: Ruby Moon (Must I put the AKA?)
((A/N: hoeee! Can ya believe it, it's a happy ending! A HAPPY ENDING! A HAPPY ENDING I REPEAT A HAPPY ENDING! Alright, enough of the jabbering. Well, my fellow meili fans, this is for you people! **THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH 'RED ROSES, RAINDROPS, AND CRYSTALLINE TEARS!*** alright, now that I've gotten that out of the way, please keep an open mind reading this fanfic: if you can't ABIDE the idea of Meilin and Li being together, TOUGH COOKIES!!!! LOL...tough cookies? where did that come from, pray tell? Anyway, please
Read and Review!
arigato. Oh, and if ya US peeps need a word translated into Japanese, I'M YOUR MAN...er...Woman. I just got a English translate to jap dictionary! Alright, with that taken care of and out of the way, on to the MeiLi fanfic!!!))
Love is a tricky thing. A snake clothed in the brilliant feathers of a peacock. Beautiful, comforting, sweet. Sickeningly sweet.
Luring me deeper and deeper into it's trance, into it's web of lies and deceit until I'm trapped, stuck, unable to defend myself as it's poisonous fangs slowly sink into my neck, slowly infecting me with it's life-depriving venom. Venom that ate away at my muscles and blood until I became so atrophied and defenseless inside. Until I could no longer hold up and just let myself wither away without a fight...
Then the venom would find it's mark, it's target. And my heart would slow it's pulsing and slowly turn dead and cold as my life seeped away, like grains of sand through trembling, weak fingers. And I would be dead inside.
So was the case with my life. After that one fateful night of revelation I ran back home. Running away was the last thing I would do, but the only thing I could do. However, despite how much I wished and ran and denied it, part of that venom stayed with me and slowly stilled my heart until I could no longer love. Until I was, like I said, dead inside.
Hong Kong looked so much more different then I had remembered: the decorative buildings looked like huge slabs of gray stone, the people, lifeless zombies. The once-beautiful gardens dry graveyards. Now all I saw was pain and dull agony. I guess that's what the spiritual venom known as 'love' does to you.
Venom. I know the feeling of it emotionally: I know the sickening color of depression, I know the horrible stench of rage. I know the slick feeling of it coating my emotions....
But this venom was a brownish black, dull and looking a bit like tar. It smelled of bleach, rotting flesh, almost...there really was no way to describe the stench. I hold it up to my nose and carefully sniff it, immediately drawing the offensive subject away from me. I slowly dip my finger in it, the oily texture coating my skin and burning me.
I know the taste of emotional venom: it tasted so...so bitter, so horrendously disgusting that it makes your spirit want to gag and effects your body so much that you actually do gag.
But how did this venom taste? Slowly, I put my finger to my lips, and touch my tongue to it.
Bitter, sour, disgusting. The dab of the sickening poison filling my mouth with a stinging sensation. I slowly put the bowl down, wiping my sweating hands on my elegant Chinese dress. I let a smirk cross my face, observing my room. My room alone reflected the desires met: desires any girl could possibly want. Any material thing that one could possibly wish for. Friends. A loving yet strict family.
But still, if I could loose those all and regain...well, regain wasn't exactly the word to be used, because I never had ...him. If I could just have him...and loose everything else, the poison wouldn't be sitting in my room, offensive yet calling me to claim peace and destiny.
My door is locked, bolted closed. I have no need to worry about anyone stopping me. I have all the time in the world to think back and let myself wallow in my pit of depression. Not like it would matter much longer, anyhow.
Such thoughts for a young girl, huh? Such deep thoughts of a young mind and naive soul. Such horrible thoughts of depression and death.
Is there anything else in this world? If there is, it's forbidden from me, shut behind doors of undeniable mystery and weight. And I have no key to reach into...so as far as this black-haired girl is concerned, death and depression is what life was all about.
Call me weak, I already know I am. But if life is about death and depression I just can't take life much longer, can't take the horrendous thing I have to face everyday called waking up, can't take the torture of falling asleep and being faced with little demons called dreams.
I laugh uneasily...laugh? Not like you would think, there is no amusement in that ugly sound escaping my parched and dry lips. I simply do it because there's nothing else to do, and I'm stalling.
Stalling. I don't' want to do this, but as I said, it won't matter much longer, would it?
I flop down on my bed, staring up at the smooth and flat ceiling. Closing my eyes I remember something...sweet sweet memory. Sweet, god how I hate that deceiving taste.
Another cough. Another struggle for breath wracking my cold, weak, small body. Cold sweat runs down my brow, which is burning with a fever.
A small hand reaches out and gently cools my forehead with a damp, cool cloth. It feels good.
But his fingers gently stroking my cheek feels better.
The comforting music, played for the soul purpose of calming my spirit sounds sweet and soothing...
but his unagely, deep voice whispering words of comfort into my ear sounds much better.
I slowly open my eyes, despite the pain that vision brings to my mind at the moment.
He was always there, always there and always loving, and no matter what whenever I was in pain I would always see deep brown eyes, unruly brown hair, and feel gentle hands guiding me out of the challenging abyss.
Oh, the lies I told myself back then. It was in my lifetime: facts told me so...but to my soul, my spirit and being, I could have sworn it was from another time in history: a time before sin entered this god-forsaken world and everything was pure and good and happy-go-lucky.
Now I lie on my bed, cold and alone, with no sound except the dull beating of my heart against my chest...and no touch except the cold, unforgiving breeze which is quickly escalating into a frightening wind.
And he's in a different country. Oh, bitter, ironic lies, can't you give it a rest, even on my dying day?
Well, ironic lies have always been my companion, depression my advocate. My confidant, sweet hate. My friend and shoulder to cry on? arrogance.
So are the flaws of a disgraceful Chinese wretch as myself.
So here I lie, with nothing to do but listen to the howling wind wrack the house and think about how death is.
Does it hurt, do I go to heaven or hell? is there a heaven or hell?
Does it matter? To me, no. I am convinced, however foolish this may sound, that even hell or nothingness is much better then this swamp of lost cause and destiny I am banished to.
Sweat comes to my brow again, anxiety physically making it's mark on my body.
Slowly I sit up and, with shaking hands, take the cup of destiny.
The ornate edge of the cup slowly makes it way to my trembling lips...
My eyes squeeze shut as the poison stings my mouth. I slowly let it, little by little, trickle down into my throat and into my body, flowing through my blood in nearing my heart.
Suddenly a loud chorus of surprise and joy erupt from the family sitting in the living room.
I gasp, drawing the unfinished venom away from my lips.
Did I hear correctly?
Or is fate once again using me as it's playtoy, cruelly taunting me?
No.
I hear it again.
I hear that name.
That name that carries so much meaning of both light and darkness in my heart.
Then I hear that voice.
That deep, unagely voice that has so many times soothed my spirit and so many times broken my heart.
And that voice asks for me, calls my name.
And yet, here I sit in a frozen stat of panic and agony, unable to think and unable to move.
I hear footsteps thumping against the hardwood floor. I hear the doorknob turn a bit before being stalled by the lock.
I hear my name called a few times by that precious, oh so precious voice.
But I still cannot move, kneeling on the floor as the cup of poison slips from my hands and stains the lush rug I'm sitting on.
Then I hear him, using his brute strength to bring down the door: an easy feat for him.
And there he is, an angel of life and death to me. The one who bears my joy and sorrow, my tears and laughter, my love, my hate: my everything.
Brown, hard eyes. Unruly hair...and a soul of calm fire.
"I'm sorry for coming so la...what's this?" He gasps, kneeling beside my shaking body and slowly picking up the cup, running his finger along the coated inside and sniffing the offensive liquid. He looks at me with nothing but sorrowful alarm.
"Tell me you weren't going to....tell me this isn't true..." He asks, tears slowly coming to those eyes I have grown to both love with a passion and hate with a vengeance.
I open my mouth to say something but no words come to throat or mind. I look away, ashamed.
He grabs me by the shoulders in a rough manner and looks into my eyes, pleading with silent horror.
I shake my head. Yes. it's true.
I was going to take my own life.
"No...god, no...oh no..." he says, his heavy hands on my shoulders starting to shake, fear creeping into his voice, making it crack uncharacteristically.
"WHY!? DAMN IT, WHY!?" He demands almost violently, shaking me to make a an impact on his words. Whatever little poison I drank makes the world around me spin. I squint in pain, my head pounding as darkness overtakes my very being.
Another cough. Another struggle for breath wracking my cold, weak body. Cold sweat runs down my brow, which is burning with a fever.
A rough, strong, gentle hand reaches out and gently cools my forehead with a damp, cool cloth. It feels good.
But his fingers gently stroking my cheek feels better.
The comforting music, played for the soul purpose of calming my spirit sounds sweet and soothing...
but his unagely, deep voice whispering words of comfort into my ear sounds much better.
I slowly open my eyes, despite the pain that vision brings to my mind at the moment.
He will always be with me. Always there and always loving.
And no matter what, whenever I was in pain I would always see deep brown eyes, unruly brown hair, and feel gentle hands soothing me out of the challenging abyss.
"Meilin...my beautiful Meilin, I love you..." He whispers hoarsely, gently stroking my lips with his.
"And I, you."
"I will never leave you, never again." He whispers into my ear.
"You never left...but returned." I smiled contentedly." And just in time, my love. Just in time."
Love came just in time.