The Long Way Home

Home. This was something that he never really put much thought into. Not when he had come from a family that scorned him. His father, who only cared about money and reputation and his mother, who only cared for his father and what others said about their family. Family dinners were few and far between. He had never received even a hug from his parents in his life.

Yes, his childhood was not something to be desired of.

To make matters worse, his mother decided she could not take her pathetic excuse of a life anymore, and put herself to death. Naturally, his father put the blame on him, calling him a "monster".

"It's all your fault. If you weren't born to this earth, your mother wouldn't have died. You're a monster."

Rumors, misunderstandings, they spread like wildfire. Everywhere he went there would always be someone to remind him of his "sins".

"He's the reason his mother died."

"He didn't even cry at his mother's funeral."

"How ungrateful."

Over and over, these words repeated in his mind, drilling him like a never-ending bell. It wasn't long before he started to live by these words, believing them, engraving them into his heart. He shunned away from people, hiding behind a mask of hate and anger, never to reveal his innermost pain and anguish.

But he knew that all he wanted was for someone to understand him, to love and care for him. For he knew, with rejection there was always acceptance, there was always hope.

But as time passed, all thoughts of "acceptance" and "hope" merely became myths, dreams, never to become reality…

Then she came along.

She started out as someone who sat by him daily in class, never failing to make conversation with him. Of course he found this annoying, he had even snapped at her a number of times. But her persistence was what made him slowly open up to her and soon he found himself sitting next to her at lunch, talking to her like there was no tomorrow.

Inevitably, something blossomed in his heart.

Slowly, the tightly sealed lid of his heart opened and he poured his life story out to her. He told her about everything he went through, everything he had done. He told her his feelings, his pain, his insecurities. He told her everything.

He had expected her to cry.

He had expected her to run away, screaming.

He had expected her to reject him.

But she didn't.

"It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault. Your mother died, in hope for you and your father to make up with each other, in hope that your life would be better. She never intended things to turn out this way, but it was never your fault in the first place."

She had smiled then, as she brushed away the tears that had escaped from his eyes.

It was funny, how such simple words could relieve him of everything that he had bottled up his whole life, how they could make all his demons rest. It was funny, how one simple smile could make his world seem brighter, making it seem like he was needed.

It was funny, yet it was amazing.

So amazing that he found himself always by her side, always trying to protect her from harm. She became the only thing that he lived for, the only thing that truly mattered. He loved her so much, that the very thought of her leaving became undeniably painful. She was like the angel that fate had finally granted him to save him from his never-ending misery.

But fate decided to take back whatever it had offered.

The girl was suddenly diagnosed with cancer, and he was devastated. He did whatever he could in his power to try to save her, but to no avail. Chemotherapy, operations, they were all too expensive for common folk like him. It was all so unfair. What was wrong with the hospital anyway? Didn't they know that an innocent girl's life was at stake here? Didn't they know that this girl didn't deserve this?

Didn't they know that if she went down, he would go down as well?

Home. Something that was undefined could now be known. "Home was where the heart is", and his heart belonged to her. Home was wherever she was and he would go wherever she went.

Now, she was in heaven, and he wanted to go home.

Head hanging in despair, streaks of tears stained his face as he trudged to the kitchen. His hand reached out and pulled a drawer open, eyes slowly examining its contents. Blades, sharp metal knives glared back at him, mocking his existence. He picked one up and stared at it blankly, before he sank to the floor. The hand holding the knife lowered itself to his left wrist, hanging dangerously above his skin.

"So this is how it ends," he thought. "Just like my mother."

Closing his eyes, he felt the cold metal brushing his skin, tearing it at a dramatically slow pace as hot crimson liquid oozed out…

"Don't!"

Immediately, his eyes snapped open and the knife dropped to the floor.

It was her voice.

The same voice that called him out of darkness, and this voice said the very same words its owner had said with her dying breath.

"Don't! Don't lose hope! Don't let despair win you over! Promise me this and there will soon come a day when we shall meet again and you would have the confidence to say that you made it and you had lived life to its fullest. So don't give up!"

The voice of an angel…

Tears started to well up in his eyes as recalled her words. What was he thinking, giving up his life like that. His last promise to her and he was going to break it? Of course not! He was definitely a man of his word and a simple request of keeping his life and living to its fullest should be fulfilled, especially if it was hers.

He had decided.

He was going to wait out his life.

He was going to live to a ripe old age.

He was going to take the long way home.

A/N: This story isn't accurate, but it was inspired by Kyoru..^^ Please Review~!!! My first time, and im from SINGAPORE~!!