"Out of nowhere
I'm going to hang myself now
To this hopeless world
I'd like to say goodbye ASAP
But you know what's strange?
I couldn't find a rope to hang myself
What a wonderful life
What a wonderful life
Since there was no rope to hang myself
I'm still alive" –Suicide Melody
"Rivaille!" Eren shrieks in delight. "Look! The ocean!"
"What's so good about it?" Rivaille muttered, looking displeased. "Salt and water. That's it. Hell, I could even make a fucking ocean in a cooking pot."
"You don't get it!" Eren said, eyes sparkling. "The ocean! The thing that all rivers and lakes flow into! The link of all the waterways-in this whole universe!"
"Not universe, but earth." Rivaille sighed, opening the book that he brought, just for this occasion. They were taking a short trip to the ocean, as a celebratory vacation for getting in the same college. Although why they would want to spend any more time together, Rivaille had reprimand Eren-he didn't know.
Eren took off his shirt, and Rivaille slyly peeked over the rim of his book as the white fabric reveled a muscled stomach-and-
"Like what you see?" Eren teased him, sticking his tongue out.
"What?!" Rivaille asked in disbelief. "You're asking me that? No, brat. I don't."
Eren made a mocking face at him, then grinning suddenly, grabbed his arm, threw his book away, and lifted him up in his arms. "Hey! Oy! Brat! Let go!"
Eren only laughed and happily ran into the ocean, tossing Rivaille in, clothes and all. Rivaille resurfaced, spluttering in indignation. "You-You-"
Eren snorted in laughter, doubling over. Rivaille gritted his teeth and fished around in the water for a bit, then threw a whole clump of seaweed at the grinning boy. The leaves landed on his head and spread around his face, making him look like he had a wig. Rivaille allowed himself a small smirk as Eren's face turned horrified.
"..Oh, you wanna go? Let's go!" Eren ripped the 'wig' off his head, chortling with laughter. "Who knew that Rivaille could have fun?"
Rivaille lay on his back in his now dim living room, gazing at the moon that shone through his clear window.
"…Life." Eren's voice murmured, crackling. "So many definitions, right? But-" His voice broke. "Not enough."
Rivaille closed his eyes, feeling a dry sting somewhere among the dark craven.
"I don't think I ever told you-but I was bullied back in middle and high school. Called a monster-actually. And after awhile, it seemed like I was the only one who thought that I wasn't. Except for you, Mikasa, and Armin, that is." His voice took on a shaking quality.
"Don't think that the reason is you, Rivaille. Don't blame yourself. Please. It's not you. I'm a fucked up kid, that's true for sure. It's all me. I know that everyone says that, but it's true, actually. My decision, my words." Eren took a deep breath. "I just wanted you to know that, really."
Rivaille reached out a shaking hand to the dark ceiling, feeling the stretch in his arm muscles. "…What good will that do?"
"I don't even remember why I was called that anymore-it's strange and stupid now that you think about it, really. But little by little-I felt like I was losing myself, you know? Like 'Eren Jaegar didn't exist anymore-but someone else, wearing my skin, holding my bones together with muscles and tendons."
"..That's disgusting, brat." Rivaille muttered, feeling the gentle thump as his hand fell back by his body.
"So, is the first tape." There was a small laugh. "God, it sounds like I'm preplanning this, aren't I?"
"You are preplanning this." Rivaille hissed. "You planned everything so fucking perfectly, it makes me sick."
"Rivaille, I'm scared of dying." Eren admitted, voice cracking. "But you know what's even worse than dying? Disappearing. My father disappeared soon after we went to senior high. I never told you, though. Remember? Every time you came to my house, you would ask-'where's your dad?' because you were fascinated by his scientific engineering, right? And remember? Each time I would hastily change the topic. I wonder if you noticed."
"…I didn't." Rivaille sighed. "I didn't, did I?"
"He's not dead." Eren's voice sounded desperate. "He's not dead. But even worse is the fact that he left us. Left mom, left me. And every day, without fail-I wonder why. We were the perfect family. Perfect, Rivaille. Mother would make every meal-and every meal would be perfect-father would come home early to bring me pointless treats-and I treasured every one of them." There was a sniffing sound. "I couldn't bear to remember him-not anymore. Because I think I thought-deep somewhere, that it was my fault that dad left, my fault that he never came back. I was an evil person. Every night, mum would cry. Cry in the dark, tears that she thought I wouldn't hear, clutching what was left of his jacket-But I hear her sobbing-and I would think-it's my fault. If I weren't here, father wouldn't have left. Mum wouldn't be crying now. My fault. I shouldn't exists. The people were right. I am a monster, I guess."
The tape ended, and even though the sound of Eren's voice-so broken and tired-was gone, replaced by the familiar hum of worn tapes-the echo of words and promises to come still echoed in Rivaille's head, and he turned over on his stomach, curling himself into a ball.
One tape over. Twelve more to go.
Next Day
~X~
Rivaille sat by Eren's bed, flipping through the well-creased pages of his history textbook. Eren gnawed on the end of a pencil, frowning at his mound of homework. "Rivaille? Can you help me?"
Rivaille glanced over at him, then finally dog-eared the page of his book, shutting it closed with a sigh. "Sure, what?"
As Eren asked him about the puzzling concept of college humanities, Rivaille patiently explained it, tapping the sharp end of the pencil against the printed words.
Ring….Ring… Rivaille's phone rang shrilly, but he made no move to answer it, continuing instead to help Eren.
"…Aren't you going to answer it?" Eren asked him in surprise.
"..No." Rivaille said shortly. "Now, here we see that-"
Ring…Ring…The phone started ringing again.
"Rivaille. It might be an emergency." Eren said, brows furrowing.
"Trust me, it's not." Rivaille sighed. "Go on with your homework. So, now that I've explained this-"
Ring…Ring…
"Rivaille! Answer it!" Eren growled. "It's driving me mad!"
"Why?" Rivaille harshly replied. "I know who it is, anyway!"
Ring...Ring…
The phone's shrill ring kept on sounding and sounding again, and once again Rivaille found himself on the losing side of a staring contest. Sighing, he flipped the phone open. "Hello?" He murmured, turning away from Eren, but the boy could hear every word.
"Why didn't you answer the first time?" A voice cried. "I was worried!"
Rivaille rubbed his forehead, and voice laced with weariness-"I was busy, Petra."
Petra? Why-
"…I was going to ask if you wanted to meet up for dinner." The girl's voice was withdrawn. "After all…we might as well go out now, right?"
Go out? Eren thought in disbelief. "What-"
"Petra." Rivaille patiently started saying, then looked at Eren's face and stopped. Eren wasn't sure what kind of expression he was making, but it must've not been pleased, because Rivaille's face suddenly got a funny spasm and he turned back to his phone. "I'm taking Eren out to eat sushi. A celebratory event. Since, you know. He got out of the hospital and all."
Out to dinner? What?
"…Oh." Petra's voice held an edge of disappointment. "..Next time, then?"
"..Yeah." Rivaille agreed, closing his eyes. "I have to go now."
"Bye. Love you."
"…" Rivaille opened his mouth, then closed it. "…Love you too." He breathed, shutting his phone with a finality.
More than anything, Eren wanted to ask-Why Petra? Are you going out again?
Why did you tell her you loved her?
Do you?
But what came out of his mouth instead was a forced chuckle. "…So, you're taking me out?"
"Hm?" Rivaille looked at him, a wry grin twisting the edge of his lips. "We're breaking you out of the hospital. Unless, of course…" He looked away. "You don't want to."
"Are you kidding?" Eren cried.
Rivaille looked down. "It's okay, you don't have to-"
Eren reached over and hugged him tightly. "Yes! Yes!"
And after a moment, when the boy still didn't let go, all Rivaille could do was awkwardly wrap his arms around Eren, wondering-
How did I not notice?
He could literally feel every bone in his body. And as he looked over the boy, he noticed a speck of dust on his ear, and he reached a hand in irritation to brush it away, when Eren froze suddenly. "…" Rivaille hastily pulled the hand back. "..Let's go brat." He mumbled, looking away.
"Y-yeah." Eren grinned, ruffling a hand through Rivaille's hair fondly-("Hey!)
Moments later, Eren was bundled in Rivaille's sweater-which was olive green and had an emblem of crossed wings on it-and was walking nochantly through the hospital hallways. Rivaille had a hand on his wrist, pulling him forward every now and then when Eren lagged.
"What happened to you?" Eren laughed. "The Rivaille who would always follow the rules?"
"…" Rivaille didn't reply, and Eren's smile crumpled.
I'm sorry, Rivaille.
You shouldn't do this to yourself.
It's all my fault, isn't it?
I'm sorry.
I fucked up, didn't I?
Rivaille opened the doors, breathing in the cold air. "Success, no?"
Eren snorted. "That was too easy. None of the nurses even noticed me."
Rivaille scoffed and pulled his scarf tighter around himself. "It's still partly my genius."
"Sure, sure." Eren laughed, placating him. He shivered-the outside was freezing. Rivaille noticed the tiny spasm of movement and unwrapped his scarf, winding the heavy fabric gently around Eren's neck. "Rivaille?"
"You're cold, brat."
"But what about-"
"I'll be fine." Rivaille harshly said, looking away. "I'll be fine." He repeated, tone softer.
But Eren wrapped his hand around the others tightly, gripping the spot of warmth through the screaming wind and cold.
Rivaille breaths out softly, breath making a soft cloud.
And Eren stares, because the faint curve of his lips is stunning the half-shadow of the overhanging doorway.
He misses being able to fling his arms around Rivaille's slim waist and pretend that it was all for nothing.
Fifty percent fantasy, he thinks. Thirty percent looks, twenty percent lust, and five percent love. One hundred and Five percent a perfect, fucked up fantasy.
Hey Rivaille, don't you know?
~X~
Armin's POV
I wanted to believe.
Thinking that everything that I doubted was for the sake of my useless, worrying mind-
Even though I had a feeling-
That those beautiful days would end-
Decorated with the soft sprinkles of everlasting snow-
Topped with a little light happiness,
I thought and wished that those days would go on forever.
I wanted to think that you were being truthful,
To have no doubt for you-
Even though I had a feeling that you were going to leave me.
Flying into the dark abyss, eyes closed just like a fool's
The soft sound of sighs pass me
And I can do nothing but try to touch them
The bitterness of coffee is too cruel
For my taste buds,
And I always have to add spoonfuls of sugar, upon sugar,
While you look on, laughing.
Those broken shards of glass falling
I am ashamed to say that too scared for myself,
I didn't pick them up,
Didn't rebuild them into what it was rewinded
Running together, the earbuds in my ear kept falling off until you
Told me that it would be easier
To get headphones instead.
Going to store together,
And shopping
Those times were meant to go on forever, really.
That time in winter
Where we lay together in front of the fireplace
Silent, together
I remember thinking-
If this is all, it's enough.
When you, with nothing but a sad look
Fell off the cliff of sanity
I could do nothing but cry.
Cry useless tears
To bring back the past that would never come back.
Why am I so alone?
How did I not know?
The screams that those silent eyes held-the little spark of pleading and worry in those conflicted pupils-
How did I, so good at reading people, not read you?
It is as if the radio station changed,
Into a different FM, not available in this country.
Why can't I tune in?
Why are your screams silent?
Is the mute button on?
If so, where is the volume control?
~X~
Eren's POV
I've only written poems about love.
Most of them-
filled with angst, overflowing
not unlike
a flooded river,
maybe the Nile
in spring.
writing a poem without inspiration is like
trying to describe a chocolate éclair
without taste buds.
Maybe that's why
this is so hard to write.
But I had pleaded for another wish,
on a birthday candle, one day in May
Blowing the little flame out,
I rode my hopes on that little spark,
making sure that there were no embers left in the ashes.
Maybe I missed one,
I'm not sure-
because that wish still hadn't come true, to today.
The voice of an acoustic guitar strums into my ear
my only comfort
against this dismal highway.
Someone once told me
"Tears taste like the ocean"
that same person wiped away those tears, brusquely saying,
"Don't cry. I don't want you falling asleep tomorrow."
I held that as an act of kindness,
one of the few close to my heart.
The taste of coffee is too damn bitter.
Yet I crave it,
holding its warmth against my hands
and blowing the excess steam off.
Starbucks, in winter.
When flipping through paintings of angles and demons, I wondered
do angles really have halos?
do devils really have horns?
Who created the idea of supernatural creatures, at all?
"Superstitious freak" I mutter, slamming the book shut
and getting up to get another book
called
Lord of the Flies
The blinking cursor and the white screen that's staring at me right now
4:45 a.m in the morning
I couldn't sleep.
So I check my email-
it says
You have no messages.
For some strange reason, that's always the time when I feel the most alone.
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