Short chapter is short. Ryou's POV this time.

I don't know what I'm doing here, or even where hereis. I came to this place, this building at least, some five or six weeks ago in search of … what? Companionship? Doubtful. I just remember thinking I'd reached some kind of dead end, a locale from which there was no progress to be made yet I had nowhere in my traversed path to return to. I guess that is what must have driven me to his door; when I felt as though I had lost everything, what more did I have to lose? What hurt could come from seeking not comfort, just the time of day, from the only person left that knew I existed?

Of course, I never expected to fall in love.

Life is funny that way. It gives, it takes, but it does so without rhyme or reason. There are things that can be controlled, to a degree; these things can be triggered, influenced, tinkered with, improved or, conversely, fucked up. Then, there are those things that either happen or don't. Those elusive things, like love, just pop up out of the blue… who coined that phrase anyway? What does it refer to? Is it open to interpretation? If so, I'd like to think of it herein as a specific blue… a dark, icy, unfeeling blue found in the sharp, angled eyes of the one I gave my virginity to. That was something I had control over… some people are not so fortunate. Honestly, I was not sure at the time if it was what I wanted, but I still chose to follow through with it. Looking back, I still cannot say if it was the right decision. Yes, I love him; I have shamelessly established that. You see, the problem (or dilemma, if you will) lies not with me, but him; though I haven't openly expressed my feelings, I recently inquired whether he loves me. He chose to reply in the negative. There is always margin for error in situations such as this; he could be lying, or simply unsure, but he isn't easy to read and I don't wish to pry. If his answer changes, I want to hear him say so of his own accord.

So, you see, this is the cause of my present turmoil. I sought comfort in one I never expected to get it from, and now I am on the verge of spiraling back into the void he helped me escape. Though, now that I think about it, did I ever really escape? Have I ever ceased to feel as though I can go no further, nor turn back and retrace my steps? The answer, I realize sadly, is no. He provided a light, a beacon whose distant glow lured me deeper into the lion's den, and like a foolish lamb I allowed myself to be corralled.

Now, I find myself not safe, not comforted, but falling, falling, falling. I've fallen into a cycle; I thought I had lost everything but it turns out I had more to lose. I lost my innocence, my purity…

No, I gave that up, and no matter what happens, I won't hold it against him. I chose to give up my innocence, what of it that was left anyway, and in my sinking heart I know that my purity was lost long ago to that spirit whose sadistic thoughts contaminated me and whose control over my body brought pain, bloodshed and even death to countless souls and bodies by my hand. Yes, it's undeniable, since my skin was first stained with warm, crimson fluid (not my own but belonging to someone who may or may not have deserved to be slain, and my bets are placed on 'not'), I could never be pure again.

So, alright, I retract my claim that those things were lost. However, one thing does remain for the time being at least. I don't count sanity as that was taken from me by the spirit as well and, though it has been returned, I am not blind to its fragility. Though the last thing I have to lose is just as unstable, it has a real chance to be fixed, and I have reached a point where I find myself relying on that fix to save me.

"Ryou, wait!"

His words break through to me as mere echoes of the past. I've long since fled through his front door without turning back, dodging his grip as he made countless efforts to grab at me. Maybe I should have slowed, given in and let him have his say, but I couldn't bear to hear the words that way, should they come at all. It wasn't right of me to bring it up in the first place, but it's his fault, anyway, isn't it? Yes, he's the one who pressed and made me speak.

But, no one can really makeyou speak (unless they can take literal control of your body that is). I should have been stronger instead of making him worry. I should have been selfless just like every other day. I should have bottled my emotions and let things continue the way they were. After all, it's hardly been long. Some couples don't say the L-word until much later than that… and, who knows? Maybe I don't love him after all.

That's a bloody lie, and you know it.

Heh. Still talking to me even after you're gone? Good show, but what do youknow about love?

Enough to know you're in it.

Am I? I suppose I am… but is he?