One of these days..
I'm going to say no..
Hands firmly embrace the pillow in seek of comfort.
I hate him.
He thinks again, obviously obscure about the whole situation. But still, he finds his heart does not wish to know the painful truth. The answer is clear as day, but all the while, it is a hazy misconception he fails to severe from his intelligence. It is a choked, raspy sound that escapes from his throat, denial clear in the dilemma, irritation obvious in its peek.
I really hate him.
He says to himself for the hundredth time that hour; how long had he been lying here? Hours? Minutes? Days? He knows the sun has not yet reached to their side of the world, but it feels as if he has been here forever. He could have been lying here forever-if only his pride wasn't so demanding.
A pout forms from his lips, eyes scrunched up in uneasy thoughts.
Just stop.
His better judgement speaks, tugging at his heart, attempting to empty his mind.
Just stop..he can do whatever he wants.
A heavy sigh hits the air as he sits up from his lying position. "What am I doing?.." He mumbles, a weary hand detangling his hair. "This is stupid." He sits on his bedside, chilly air embracing his form as the only comfort he can confide in. There is no one worthy enough of his trust. Through several text messages, voicemails, and 27 missed calls in the last hour, he wonders, why?
It is obvious that he is ignoring the caller-he cannot bear to look at the name without a pinged churn of hate. His heart bears in mind that this is not the first time. Is there not a saying stating that they are not the fools the first time, but bear the fault the second?
"Yes." He stands from his bedside, palms directly covering the beauty of his face. "Yes.."
That saying is so wrongfully right.
"I will not be made a fool." His body cringes and shivers with the tone of his voice-something he has never quite done before. The words that escape from his lips are not his. They are realities'. He does not live in a world of right or wrong. He lives in a world of barriers. His world of barriers. There cannot be such thing as 'right' or 'wrong.'
There is only one direction of life-and that is making choices. He had made the choice twelve years ago, to love and cherish the person he has come to hate. And then, he had come to the conclusion that the affections had been too hidden, too indirect, too discreet.
He was not the fool then. But he had pledge to make himself worthy of no one and everyone-though he promised never to let them in. He couldn't let them in. It was no longer in his nature to allow such..
Foolishness.
It had been nearly a decade of his chagrin-his lying facade. He was no longer a fool. He was no longer a willing victim of emotional scandal. He was a changed man. He had made the choice to abandon all affections, and become something great. He would be great-with or without the person he hated.
It was a year of constant depressing misconceptions, unsure dispositions, and unneeded attraction. Until finally, finally, he had given in. He had pressed back those barriers he spent ten years perfecting, standing bare naked before his most hated person.
He uncovers his face, a small, misleading smile playing on his lips when the front door begins to sound with the jingling of keys. Small, light steps touch the cold hardwood floor. He steals a brief glance as to where their burgundy colored night stand stays unmoving directly behind him.
"Ritsu?" A voice echoes through dark, empty halls, searching for the said man. "Ritsu, why are all the lights off?" The man draws nearer, sliding off his coat as his figure steps into the dark unlit room. The same smile the smaller male wore mere seconds ago, lingers as a lie in the form of a smile.
"Masamune, you're home." He stands still, holding his arms out in need of the older man's touch. Masamune leans himself on the doorway, smirking at his lover's eager threshold.
Fool me once.
"You look happy to see me. But why didn't you answer my calls or texts?" Masamune takes long strides in the direction where his lover stands, failing to notice the smaller hand slowly opening the drawer to the nightstand behind him.
Shame on you.
"I was asleep, but I woke up a little before you arrived." He lies-he's become quite good at this now. Practice never did make perfection, but it surely hid all other objectives to be left unseen.
Foole me twice.
Masamune nods, bringing Ritsu into a gentle embrace, lovingly breathing in his sweet scent. "Ritsu." He huskily chants close to his ear. "I love you."
Emerald eyes stare dully at the mirror that hangs on the bedroom wall, staring in hatred at what he is witnessing. "One of these days.." His voice muffles audibly into Masamune's shoulder.
"Hmm?"
Sweaty fingertips tighten there hold on the unnoticed object in his hand, rising slowly towards its destination. Masamune smiles to himself, gently caressing the silky strands of hair upon the other's head.
Shame on me.
"AARRGGHH!" Masamune stumbles closer into their gentle hold, eyes wide with piercing pain and sudden tears. The palms of his hands tighten around Ritsu's shoulders, unable to catch a glimpse of deceitful emerald eyes.
"..I'm going to say no." He rips his weapon from the stabbed skin, blood splattered unevenly and sticky on it's sharp edges.
"Rit..su.." Bronze eyes clench shut in unbearable pain, body too weak to remain standing. Blood is smeared over the front of his plain white-T, hovering over the man he once hated, but has now come to love so desperately.
Masamune pants for air, desperately fighting to breathe. "…su.." Emeralds glisten with fresh tears, bringing the blood covered kitchen knife to just barely touch the soft and raw feel of his lips. For a brief second, he asks what he's done.
But it is today, that he has finally learned what it means to stop saying yes.