A/N: Hello again~
Here's another Trigun fanfic for you! This one is a bit different. It's written from Vash's POV, almost as if he's writing a journal entry or something, or talking to someone one-on-one. He's pretty eloquent in this story. I figure he must be, if he's as old as he is. A man his age has to be relatively well-read, don't you think? Anyway, this is kind of a serious fic, kind of sad, kind of entertaining and enlightening. I hope you enjoy it, regardless. As always, please R&R and I'll gladly respond! Thanks much!
INAMATUS
(unloved)
I admit it. I'm not the best with women.
You could call me crazy (and trust me, most people do) but I am the way I am for a reason.
When I see a pretty girl look my way, I figure I have two options. I can be normal – you know, say hello to her, strike up a conversation about something mutually interesting and then take it from there, or I can be… well, me. It's not something I enjoy doing, but I figure that I don't have much of an option, really. You could call it selfishness, I guess.
Yeah.
That's all it really is, in the long run. It's just me being selfish.
After hearing that, most people would again ask me if I'm nuts. I probably am, but that's beside the point. People don't understand why instead of just being normal, I turn myself into a really horrible rendition of Don Juan around nice girls who are willing to give me the time of day. They don't understand why preventing relationships instead of embracing them is considered selfish, in my eyes. I can't really say I blame them, but if I tried to explain it they wouldn't understand anyway, so I don't bother. Meryl is totally convinced that I'm some kind of sexually depraved lecher, and to be honest, it's probably better that way.
You know, it's really tough. It's not that I don't want to fall in love. Trust me, I do. I desperately do. I would like nothing more than to fall for a nice girl, and have her fall for me. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd actually like to get married, some day. I'd love to just settle down and have a family and live my life in peace, but I have to be realistic.
I'm Vash.
I'm the Humanoid Typhoon.
I've got a bounty of $$60,000,000,000 on my head, and I'm pretty darn sure that it's only going to go up from there, based on my track record. I hate to say it, but I'm not exactly 'family man' material. It's a difficult and sobering reality for me to face, when I wake up every day. It's not always the first thing on my mind, but it's always there, and it drives me nuts. It sneaks into my head whenever I stop into a bar on the side of a trade route for a drink, and a cute waitress gives me one of those looks. You know; that kind of shy, but curious look girls get sometimes? When I look at her, I hate to think that she could be 'the one', and I have to pass her by just because of who – and what I am.
I thought about it before but I've never acted on it, and I would like to keep it that way.
I mean, I know what I am. Look at me. I'm… oh God, how old am I? I don't even remember. I think I'm something like a hundred and thirty one. I could be off by a decade, though. But see, that's just my point. I don't age. I don't change.
I'm afraid of falling in love with someone and then having to watch them change like I can't. I don't want to watch someone I love turn into dust. I don't want to watch someone I love end up dying slowly, while I sit here, perpetually 25, not a wrinkle on my face. That would crush me. I mean… I guess it would be slightly less horrible if I were able to have children so I could watch them grow and have families and live vicariously through them or something, but… oh man – I can't believe I'm about to admit this – I'm a virgin.
I have never been with a woman.
At all.
It's not that I don't want to – because let's be honest, I'm a man. I really, really want to. But – I don't know. I'm not a 'one-night-stand' kind of guy. Again, here's me being old fashioned, but if I were to do something like that with a girl, I'd want to be in love with her and I'd want her to love me back. But of course, therein lies the problem. I can't allow myself to love or be loved. I can't put myself through that kind of torture. I have enough nonsense in my life as it stands, and as ridiculously selfish as it may sound, I can't sit here in good conscience and promise a woman that I'll always be there for her when I don't really know if I will or not.
As if my lack of aging wasn't enough, I'm also an outlaw.
Typically, men who are constantly on the run do not make particularly good husbands. I hate to say that, but I fit that bill pretty squarely. It drives me crazy, because I have a lot of love to give – like, an outrageously overwhelming amount – but I couldn't keep someone constantly waiting for me. I don't want to know that while I'm out in the middle of nowhere, trying to keep myself from getting shot to pieces, that there's a woman waiting for me, praying that I'm not dead. What's more, and it sickens me to say it, but I've seen lovers of outlaws being used as leverage, before. I've seen lives traded for lives, and I couldn't have something like that on my conscience. Don't get me wrong, I'd gladly lay down my life for someone I love, but I wouldn't want to put them through that kind of pain.
Love is a problematic subject. I meditate on it a lot, and the reason I give up so quickly – usually in less than three seconds – is because it hurts. A lot. And I'll tell you this: you can look at any one of the scars on my body, any of them – and I'll bet you that getting whatever scar or hunk of metal you point at hurt less than love. It's just one of those things that can give you the greatest high you've ever felt, and at the same time it can drag you down into the deepest pits of despair. It's a rare bird, and some people are lucky enough to catch it for a short period of time. I probably won't even be one of those people, and I know it's better that way.
So now you know.
In the future, if you ever see me throwing myself at a pretty girl, you'll know.
It's not that I'm desperate to love her.
It's that I never want her to love me.