Author's Notes: So I got into a really angsty mood and thought 'hey, might as well do something productive.' That loosely translates to 'screw my other fics, I'm writing angst.' So yeah, this chapter's up.
Thanks to PhoenixStAr (wow, don't know what to say; can take compliments well), Gil Galad (bowing to Elven King), Chained Dove, Tara, anjali-chan.
Disclaimer: The maid shifted uneasily under the inspector's watch. "I swear I didn't see anything." He didn't believe her. "You're lying." The red haired woman couldn't take it anymore under the hard glare, bursting into frenzied tears. "All right, all right. He was in the study and he told me he found a way to own CCS!" The inspector nodded grimly, taking a puff of his pipe. "It's all starting to become clearer."
Sweet SurrenderChapter 3: Confrontation
And sweet surrender
is all that I have to give
It's lonely to be at the top of anything. It's a feeling that's undeniably true as I stand on the roof of my new apartment building. I look down the dizzying heights to the people dotted sidewalk knowing that I'd never do something that drastic. But you can't help but feel curious sometimes, wondering where you'd go if you got up the courage, if you could force yourself to rip all the ties that bound you to staying alive. In the end, I can't find that resolve and back away, commotion street disappearing from my view, now supplanted by the concrete ledge.
The stars glimmer light, pulsing a celestial code. Little differences. They add up one by one until you're completely lost. A new home, a slight difference in the angle of Tokyo Tower, a different entrance to the park, a foreign row of buildings around you. You realize nothing's quite as familiar anymore. But above it all is the same moon, the force that rules my other side, so much so that I want to feel it as he does. Love me, moon. Love me as I deserve to be loved. When no one else will. Expectedly, the moon hangs solemnly, unflinching, unheeding. I turn on my heels, retreating into the black draped recesses of the building.
A mess of noodles and soup. Dinner boiled over. I sit to eat the remaining soup, liquid slipping into the hollow of my stomach. Around me are open books, half written papers, a few crumpled clothes that desperately need washing. It's been six months, half a year nearly, when I found myself gone from familiar surroundings and dropped unprepared into this apartment, into my new life. It doesn't hurt to say it now, after all the pain has withered in the face of denial. All the feelings have been buried, shallowly but still deep enough to be out of mind. So now I can say it without flinching, and without knowing the temptation that a phone call away could solve it all. Now I can say it clearly. I'm alone. The heady silence in the apartment testifies to that; the quiet rustle of pages as I flip through the novels and textbooks. I used to leave the television on for distraction, maybe a substitute for company, but now I don't need it. It lays dormant, sleeping, as Yue is, waiting for some crisis to emerge.
I can almost laugh now, more bitterly than I should, but the move that seemingly distorted everything so much, really left my life rather unchanged. University is university, different professors, same classes, endless work. Part time jobs occupy some extra time, only that there is no familiar face to see when I stand behind the register. People seem to like me, like to talk to me in long conversations that I strain to hold. It's ironic that; they like me but I don't like myself. You don't uproot everything that you thought was foundation in your life and not realize a few things about yourself. It's not pity anymore, the old sore that used to fester with depression, whispering in random moments that I'd be better off dead, or not created at all. It's beyond that. And it's beyond the anger and fury that I tried to feel the first few months here. How could Clow do this to me? Why couldn't I live the life that I wanted so badly? It's beyond that now too. It's only indifference, clear and unmitigated with emotions. To not hurt is to not feel. And I don't feel. I turn to the next page, jotting down quotations and citations as I go. At this rate, I'll be done within an hour, then desperately finding something else to occupy my time until I'm entirely spent and collapse into the oblivion of sleep.
The microwave flashed midnight, 12 o' clock. I look at my wristwatch; it's of course, two in the morning. Tonight is not usual, my eyes not sore and straining to stay open, that comforting exhaustion not yet here. There's nothing else for me to do, except think, and that is one thing that I dread doing. The pen is flat on the counter, paper marked with symbols and page numbers, book binding begging to be shut and relieved of its stress. I jolt, the sudden buzz of the doorbell. I sigh heavily for within me I know who's on the other side. Touya.
You take me in
no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness
that surrounds me
are you an angel
am I already that gone?
He stands there looking strange, a ferocity in his eyes, hands clenching themselves into fists. And for a ridiculous moment, I fear he'll attack me. He does. With words.
"Yuki! What the hell is wrong with you?"
He leans heavily on the doorway, limbs almost dragging, form hunched over tiredly. Dark lines stress his fatigue. I catch myself before I raise a concerned hand to his shoulder. "Why are you here?"
"You! That's why." He strains himself to stand up straight, glaring at me with an anger that surpasses anything I've ever known to be in him. "Six months. You don't make any contact with any of us. Sakura's been worried forever, and I…" Breaking off mid sentence, he looks up helplessly to the corridor lights. "I was too." The anger subsides as his atrophied strength leaves him. "I wanted to give you time; I really did. But you haven't answered me. Are we anything?"
My answer is cutting, sharpened to a perfect edge. "We're friends. That's all."
He eyes me with a suspicion confirmed. "You're lying. I know you are. If you'll tell me what's wrong, we can fix it."
I look hard at him. He's at the end of something, desperate underneath his level-headedness. He won't leave without the answer, and yet I'm not in the mood to deal with this. Rooted to the doorway, he waits expectantly. Fine. If he wants to know, he can know. I've already promised myself I won't crumble. I can only hope that promise doesn't abandon me. "I'm not human. And these feelings I have for you, I don't know if they're programmed. Maybe one day I'll feel nothing, all that love gone. I don't want to hurt you Touya, but I don't want to take that risk." I mentally smirk. I've come a long way in six months, no failing of words, no silent desperation, short and to the point.
He absorbs it all for a prolonged moment, ending with a soft grunt under his breath. He smiles, tiredly but genuinely. "Doesn't matter." He pauses, the air pregnant with rebuttal but air un-vibrated as he pauses.
"And what? We'll live like a children's book? That we'll be guaranteed happiness, that I'll always love you?" It wasn't intentional, but my voice had lost its rationality in the wait, spitting each word repulsed. "Is that what you'll say?"
Touya stands strangely, staggering but ready to rush forward. His eyes hardened again, staring at me in a thinly masked fury. "Listen to me!"
I shake my head violently, unwilling to care, unwilling to have my carefully built decision shattered. I don't want to hear his logic, his promises, his attempts at breaking me. "No. This matter is over."
He doesn't budge, voice rising over mine, half insane with frustration, hand seizing my shoulder almost painfully in its urgency. "Yuki, shut up! Let me talk."
I clamp my mouth shut, stunned by his outburst but relieved as the burden of explanation dissipates. "What?" My voice is low again, the energy of 'fight or flight' drained. I nearly slump in the exertion, supporting myself with a hand against the doorjamb.
He steps closer, face softening appreciably. "I won't lie to you. I think you're wrong. But listen to me. I can't guarantee we'll live happily ever after. I can't guarantee that your feelings won't change." Another length closes between us. "But love is like that, relationships are like that. We risk ourselves every time we care for someone." He dips his head, breath steaming on my face. "So I'm asking you. Are you willing to take the chance?" He adds in a whisper. "Even if it means we don't find our happy ending?"
I only
hope
that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees
And
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give
Yes. The first word in my mind, last on my tongue. Do I want to risk it? This conversation's gone from one extreme to the other in little more than five minutes. Now I'm dangling from a ledge, the cliff cracking and breaking away. He knows my fears, he knows the consequences. Do I want to try? He wants to try. After all the time I've convinced myself I was right, do I dare to consider that wasn't? And amidst the turmoil of rationalizing and justifying, my altered reflexes have answered for me. My hand takes his comfortingly, a small smile struggling to break from my locks and bindings. Hesitantly, I answer. "I can't."
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Author's Notes: Review won't you? Makes everything brighter and shinier if you do.
