Bridge of Lost Dreams
Chapter One
20. December. 2010
l2set
author's note: this is a reissue of a story that i wrote waaay back in 2005. isn't it fun to rediscover stories, read them and then actually be shocked by what the hell happened? well, while i fight with Exile, i will give this up for reading as well.
& this is not beta'd. all mistakes are my own.
enjoy.
I hit him hard enough for him bounce off the floor. The loud cracking sound of what I think is his skull plays throughout the house. It does not seem to stop, it just echoes from the wall to the floors and back again. I cannot bring myself to move towards him . . . there is blood leaking from his body. The red is a shock across my prestine white and grey floors. I avert my eyes.
"Please." That word attacks my soul and I move towards my broken lover. I cannot just let him be here, broken and bruised and bleeding. I sink to the floor and clutch Shuichi to my body; his blood pours over my limbs, my clothes. I notice that he smiles at me. I want to take that smile away, how can he smile at me when I have caused him so much harm?
"Sorry. Sorry, sorry," I start making it like a mantra. I must repent for my sins, the pain that I have caused him. I have to end it; I have to make it better. Things like my lover are too pure for creatures like me. He is too much in my world and I am a stain upon his. I have to end it. His eyes change, almost as if he knows what I am thinking about now.
I bring my lips to his and we kiss. I will miss this, the understanding between us, the way our bodies know what the other wants; he is resisting though, knowing knowing what I am thinking about doing now. I will miss him - I will miss us. I must do what is the best for him. For me. For this mixed up world that we belong too. That I belong too.
My left hand move to his neck, my right hand gently supporting his head. I don't want to hurt him anymore and I don't want to be hurt by him. It goes hand in hand with us though. We cannot have one without the other. I hurt with words and violence - He hurts with looks and total understanding. I wish he would let me be, let me wallow in my own pain without coming to terms with it.
I only wanted him to be angry with me. If he would be angry at me, then maybe, maybe I could save us. We could save each other . . . how could he have such fucking devotation to someone like me, someone so tainted such as myself?
I lay his head down on the floor and move my right hand to the otherside of his neck; I grip it tightly within my hands. I open my eyes to see him staring at me. He looks so frail, so afraid. I kiss his forehead. This is for the best. He knows it. He knows it. He knows it. He is merely unwilling to let go. Which is why I must do it for him. For me. For us. I will make this better. I will sever the ties.
"Don't cry. I have to end it," I whisper, pressing harder against his wind-pipe; the flesh is so soft, softer than I ever remember it being underneth my hands. I wish he would struggle, I wish he would be angry. Why must he be so willing for me? I continue to stare at him, he continues to cry. His eyes are so beautiful, his mouth shaped into a perfect temptation. Neither of us can ever win.
I push harder and hear him gasp and the delicate bones snap. I keep the pressure on his neck for a moment longer, just to make sure that it is complete. He tries so hard to breathe, so hard to get up. He seems so desperate to call to me. I merely shake my head, looking at him sadly. The light seems to be fading from his eyes, so soft, so swift. It has to be this way. We can no longer be as one. I need to be free. He needs to be free.
I stare at his limp body, his blood staining my kitchen floor. I engrave it in my memory, I need to remember what he looks like now not before, not when this version of him is so fucking gorgeous.
He looks so . . . unlike himself. For once he is still - not even in sickness is he ever still, now though, the last breath gone from his body, he is like a statue. I strain to make sure that he is quiet too, I almost miss the last sigh as his lungs shudder for air. It's nerve wrecking but I must remember all of this, I must remember him as he is, not as he was. His perfect body crumbled on my kitchen floor, blood spread around him like a halo. My bloody angel.
I grab the phone from the counter and call Tohma. Things will be righted by morning.
i couldn't help myself. i wanted to be evil. there is more to come . . .