What are you supposed to do or say in the presence of utter beauty and radiance? All I can do is simply stare like an idiot, wanting to reach out and finger the silky teal hair that flows beneath my nose, and caress the soft, creamy pale skin that tempts my hands.
But I can't.
And I no longer can.
And I never will.
Miku. Miku. Ah, the name of perfection. How lucky I had been to win her heart, how fortunate I had been. I can still smile as I recall the day of when we had officially become lovers, how she had shyly snuck her hand under the table, and how I, overly happy, had reached out my hand, and entwined my fingers with her long, slender ones. How warm her hand had felt. How warm.
And as we secretly held hands, light blushes crossing our faces, I looked up in hopes of catching even the smallest, cute reaction from her, and I was met by a soft, gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness, her fair face rouge.
I couldn't help it.
I leaned over, closed my blue eyes, hoped my blonde hair wouldn't tickle her face, and gently, ever so softly, pressed my lips against her pink ones, reaching my other hand to cup her face, and taste her beautiful, alluring lips. And I kissed her right there, in front of everyone, causing a chorus of whoops and claps from everyone.
Everyone except…
Throughout our time of dating, we had plenty of opportunities to sneak in gentle, rather rough, and deep kisses. I would gently tug her hand into a corner and press her against the wall, entangling my hands into her hair, undoing those adorable twin tails, and breathing in the scent of her silky hair, a gentle waterfall cascading down her shoulders and back. And the best part was, she would close those amazing eyes of hers, and like the fragile, tender person she is, trusted me.
Like the hormonal young man I am, I would traces my fingers down her front, trailing my index finger down her chest, and savoring her small, quiet moans from me teasing her sensitive spot. And how arousing those moans were. And I would kiss her and kiss her, until I thought she would break. And she would let me do all of those things, from small pecks on the cheek to deep, hard kisses, from soft touches to her hips and back, to rubbing all over her body.
But one day, she wouldn't allow me. One day, she didn't close those marvelous eyes of hers. That one day, she stiffened underneath my body, and she whispered, "Len kun,"
"No. N-no more."
I heard a piece of glass falling onto the floor.
And then I heard another crashing.
And then another, and then countless more.
What were those sounds?
Ah. They were the sounds of my little heart breaking.
I am sure, reader, you have heard of the expression, "If you love someone, set them free," yes?
Allow me to clarify, that it is such a deceiving quote. It disgusts me. No quote will tell me what requirements love constitutes. A deceptive, illusory, misleading expression.
I knew I loved her.
I loved her more than anything. I loved her more than singing. I loved her more than myself. I loved her so much, I hated her for making me lover her so.
So I didn't let her go. I didn't set her free.
Instead, I tightened my grip on her, and smashed my lips against hers, and desperately (pathetic, I know) wanted her to change her mind. I wanted her to know I wasn't going to stop, that I wanted her. Her. And she knew, but she didn't want me! And how she struggled! She squirmed, and asked me to stop, firmly, loudly. And I answered her. I answered her indeed! I slammed her against the floor, and I ripped her clothing off, clothing that hid her wonderful, breathtaking body, and I-
And I stopped.
Because underneath my body, I saw an angel.
An angel with crystal clear pools of water in her bright, blue-green eyes, and I asked her, "What's wrong? What's wrong, dear angel, why are you crying?"
"Why are you crying? What are these tears?"
I grabbed her hand, "Why are you crying? Why?! You shouldn't-"
One by one…
Little salty teardrops of my own plopped onto her divinely sculpted face, and I felt and heard the teal haired angel sob harder and struggle under my iron grip, my face buried into her neck.
But I knew, I knew if I didn't let this angel go, I would burden her with a heavy weight upon her wings, and force her to fall. Down, down, down… Until darkness emerged her.
I could still taste her tears in my mouth, and…
I released her.
And I watched the angel run away, run… Run…
Away…
And I knew
I had hurt Miku more than I would have, if I had merely screamed at her. It was then that I realized, I was a hellish fool, who yearned for the unreachable, impossible, real love of a heavenly creature.
Oh, what's this?
A tiny stream runs down my face. I press my hand against my cheek, and allow the drops of emotions spill out of my eyes.
How long has it been, three years?
Yes, three years.
Hand in another hand, I see the angel smile. I see the angel give off a brilliant smile, lighting up her beautiful face. Her soft hand, encased in another, she leans her head against the other's shoulder, and hugs the arm to her chest close.
And I watch my sister lean her blonde head against Miku's, a light blush across her face, taking her other hand and tilting Miku's chin up.
And I watch
The two kiss
And I hear more glass shattering.
Where could that sound have come from?
Oh, of course.
I give off an unemotional laugh. My little heart.
A splash of tears wets my cheeks.
Why couldn't Miku have smiled like that with me?
Why couldn't Miku have laughed like that with me?
Why couldn't Miku have looked at me like that?
Why couldn't
Why
Wh-
As I sit against this wall, I can only accept the ringing pain hammering inside my chest.
And I can't help but think, there is the angel, and the devil that took her away from me.
The white, innocent angel wings and the pure, black obsidian demonic wings lay side by side on the wearer's backs, the teal headed angel placing a kiss onto the blonde headed devil's cheek.
And as another tear rolls down my face, I try to smile. I really, truly try to. My hand shakes as I shove it into my pocket.
I smile, tears running down my cheeks, but I'm smiling. I'm smiling! I am happy that the angel has left this pathetic, wretched, forceful boy and instead found her right match. I am content to see Miku with Rin! How glad I am, how very pleased!
I watch the devil kiss the angel's cheek, my shirt drenched in wet tears, and I stick my other shaking hand in my pocket.
I squeeze my eyes shut, face the ceiling, and let out a pained and pathetic sob.
I am happy Miku doesn't love me anymore.
I'm happy, I really am? Am I? I am. I am happy.
I slam my head against the wall behind me, and clench my teeth, trying to stifle my crying.
If you love someone, let them go.
I did.
I did let her go.
But it still hurts. It still hurts just the same.