:: Where Do I Go From Here? ::
Gensomaden Saiyuki
Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Sanzo/Goku
Warnings: angst, character death, language, blatant shounen ai, slight morbidity
Notes: I haven't written from first-person point of view in a long time. O_o Weird. But I think it'll work best this way.
This may be an entry to Avmin's 39 contest. I have two other entries in the making; this is just the first-- and for the angst catagory. Which I was sure I was going to stay away from for a while. Go figure. But I'm not sure if I like it very much, so I'll probably try writing better entries for it before I decide.
Since it's been so long since I've written angst, I actually doubt this will be very depressing. ^^; It may actually be too... light? Eh, guess I'll find out.
Constructive criticism and feedback is always and much appreciated. Thank you.
Whoever tells you that goodbye isn't forever is lying.
I suppose that, sure, there are the ideas of reincarnation or life after death. But every goodbye you say is forever. That's why I try not to say it to anyone I care about. "See you later," works better, because then you're letting them know you expect to see them later on. Goodbye is final. I hate finality.
Listen to me. I sound halfway intelligent. Does that shock you?
No. Probably not. It's hard to understand you, but it's easy to know you. I can never figure out the reasons why, but I can easily figure out what. If you could hear me, you'd probably just roll your eyes and look away, calling me stupid anyway.
I know you don't completely mean it. That's all right. I can read through your actions. I've had my doubts, but you've always confirmed that you do care about me-- again and again. I can't even count the number of times you've proved it. I think I lost count a long time ago. But I could name several incidences.
Funny. Not many people would see it that way, but I can tell. I'm supposedly the stupid one, but I can read you easier than anyone else.
Well, maybe not anyone. Hakkai understands you so much better than I do.
But I don't mind. It's not my role to understand you. All I have to do is care, and you think that's enough. You've always thought it was enough, didn't you?
Maybe not always. But a lot of the time, you did. I could tell.
I should talk about something else. This is getting weird, even for me.
Maybe... I should talk about the end of the journey.
Here.
Now.
I hate it. I don't want it.
It took this long for it to sink in. It took nearly three damn years for it to sink in, and at the worst possible time. I suppose I had a... what was it called? An epiphany, right?
Don't laugh. I know you don't laugh aloud, but I can hear it when you look at me. Actually... I can't. I can't picture you laughing. But I can feel it, and I guess that's almost the same thing.
Anyway, I sort of had one of those epiphany things. It was weird. One minute I'm having the time of my life, ripping Kougaiji a new one, and then I just have this sudden realization that this is the end. The outcome of this fight is going to determine the future. If we die, the whole thing is screwed up. If we fail, the whole journey was worthless.
If we die.
What am I saying?
If you die.
Yeah, I care about the others. Hakkai and Gojyo are my friends (even though Gojyo's still a stupid water sprite) but they're not... you.
Actually, I wouldn't want them to be. It's kind of scary imagining Hakkai wielding a paper fan.
Still.
I don't know.
I'm not so stupid as to throw my life away if you weren't here. If I did then you'd have every right to call me an idiot. You have the chance of being reincarnated, of starting anew, but what about me? I'm a creature of the earth. Would I go back to the earth if I died, or would I also be given a second chance?
I don't mind taking risks, but that's one risk I refuse to take. Maybe I'm playing it safe, but I'm selfish. I want to see you again. I can't do that if I die.
Then again, who's to say I won't die before you're reborn?
I don't know. I don't understand the details. It's way too confusing.
But still, it's just as painful to think about years passing without your presence. I've gotten so used to it that I panic when you're gone for more than a few hours. Sometimes I've even woken up in the middle of the night, scared that you've left. I've even gone to check to see if you're still there.
You always are. And each time you caught me, you whacked me and called me an idiot. Then you told me to go back to bed before you started using bullets. You never were a morning person.
...
... It hurts.
I'm in that pain right now. It aches worse than an empty stomach. I can't fill this void with food, because it's too used to having you there. Anything else -- even food -- pales in comparison. Nothing else is adequate (that's the same as suitable, right?) enough to close up that painful space.
I imagine you'd hit me if I cried, or at least snap at me. Weird. I haven't cried in so many years, though I've come close to so many times. Always because of you. Because of something you do-- or don't do.
What am I supposed to do? Just move on? Step away from the ruins of this damned fortress and leave you behind? Go back to the temple?
I can't do that. I could never do that... but I don't know what else I can do. It's senseless to stay. You'd say it was pointless and tell me to get the hell out of here.
But... I don't know where else to go.
It just hurts so much.
You know what else hurts? Watching the sun. It shines like it's mocking you, mocking me, mocking us. It's not supposed to do that. I hate it for doing that.
Even in the end, you didn't want me to touch you. You're really weird...
And so damned infuriating.
I can't hate you. Never could. No matter how hard I tried. But I can be mad at you. I'm mad right now! You said you'd never die before the rest of us. Was that a lie? Would you seriously lie to me?
Why am I the only one who didn't see this coming?
I'm so angry at you; I don't care what you said. I'll touch you. I'll brush the hair from your eyes; I'll close them for you so I don't have to stare at the lifeless violet. I'll make it look like you died comfortably, even with blood splattered all over your sacred robes and scrolls. Watch me.
I was never allowed to touch your hair before. It's soft, just like I thought it would be. Pleasant to touch... and I've thought about it more than I care to admit. Maybe because it was off-limits, kinda like that whole issue you have with the rain.
You know, I always thought that was weird. You'd let me pull on your arm no matter how much it annoyed you, and you'd never let anyone else do that. You'd allow me to drag you places when I wanted to show you something, no matter how reluctant you were. You'd listen to me ramble with more tolerance than I could have asked for.
But not for anyone else.
Just for me. And that's how I know.
I hate that crimson colour on you. That's Gojyo's colour, not yours. I'm not saying I'd rather have him dead, but I don't like the red stains all over you. I hate that my eyes trail to the gashes all over your body even though I do not want to look.
And I'm just so mad at you!
I rake my fingers through the dirt, gritting my teeth. That horrible aching feeling swells up again, filling me to the point I'm ready to burst with it. It makes me feel ready to pour blood on the sand. Would mine mix with yours? What would that make us?
Nothing. Nothing now. Mixing blood doesn't work when one of us is dead.
I hear a loud, inhuman noise. It's an animal's scream, wordless and full of anguish. All I see is darkness and all I feel is the sting of salt behind my eyelids. When my throat begins to hurt, I realize that it's me who is screaming. And the hot drops falling on my hands? Not rain, because rain is cold, but tears.
I can't stand to touch you anymore, but at the same time I can't let go. You're so cold. You're not allowed to do that! The sun is warm, sometimes so warm that it's uncomfortably hot. It's never cold when the sun is out. Why can't I make you understand that?!
Ignoring the morbidity of my actions, I clutch at your soaked robes. The blood is drying, nearly black now. It's horrible. I hate it. I want to wash it away, but I have no water to do it with.
The blood staining my hands is only yours. Not because I killed you, but because I tried to prevent your death. The last thing I want is for you to die. Couldn't you have stayed just a bit longer? Just enough for us to figure out what we were supposed to do after this stupid journey? Sure, we completed the mission; Gyuumaoh is deader than you, and his stupid lackeys might as well be...
But what's the point if you're not here?
I love you.
I won't waste time explaining how, in what manner, because I just do. Maybe I'm too simple-minded to understand it, but I know what I feel. I know I've felt it for a long time, and that it developed slowly since the day you freed me from the rock prison. And I know -- don't ask me how; you know it's pointless -- that you felt the same way.
So now that we have this established... what am I going to do? How long will I be able to wait? Can I wait that long?
I don't know. I was never very patient; you know that better than anyone.
But...
I'll try.
Just for you, Sanzo.
Once I stop crying, I'll try.