Hmmm.... this chapter was hard because I was reading The Great Gatsby, and got inspired to do the next chapter (cause there's this AWESOME visual imagery, holy crap F. Scott Fitzgerald was a genius), so I kept on wanting to rush this one. But hey, I finally found the word I was searching for! Profound! I don't know why exactly I wanted it anymore, but it's nice to know. And all of you, READ AND REVIEW! I get discouraged very easily if I think people don't like my story.
And, for God's sake, I don't own Cowboy Bebop
***
My Beautiful
Ch. 4- Angelic Sins
So I messed up. Again. It's nothing new. I'm used to the feeling (like newly swallowed hot acid) of disapointment. My mind feels like a broken jigsaw puzzle of emotions, each one wanted to fit in somewhere, but they keep on clashing with each other, and end up forming a half-finished, discolored mess. I'm still processing the fact that Spike is alive, the rest of it is just too much.
When he was alive- well, he still is alive, I guess- but when I didn't think he was dead, I was in love with him. The mystique of him, the way he smoked, the way he talked, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I had never met anyone else who knew that. The way he walked, jaunty, uncaring, laid back, it sent shivers up my spine. The gung-ho attitude, the quick temper, his poignant, heartrending eyes, that told a story more eloquently than all the words in the world. I was in love with it all. Now I am faced with a question- do I love it still?
He had left to die. He had left to live. He had left me behind, lost and broken. When he left to find his dream, I found my nightmare. And now? I guess we've both woken up. I don't know how to feel about him. Should I be angry that he left me in the dust, and never searched for me, probably didn't even wonder about me when I was missing? Or should I just be glad that he's alive?
I spent the last year mourning for him, so I should be happy, right? I don't have to cry anymore, I don't have to drink myself into oblivion to rid myself of his memory. I don't have to be lost, alone. But I don't feel happy- and I'm slowly starting to realize why.
No matter what, he won't love me in return. When he had left, it had been for another woman, another love, another life that I could never touch. And now that he has come back from the dead, nothing will change. His attitude back there proves that- I am a nothing to him, an annoying vixen that eats his food, takes his water, and gets in his way. I am a blur in his vision of a perfect world, a spot of darkness in his light dream. What does he care?
I look up and realize that I've been involved in this bout of introspection for over two hours. My debris is still strewn everywhere, shirts and pants and packs of cigarettes inhabit the floor and bed, a testament to my uselessness. Slowly I start to collect them, as I wipe the tears from my face. After I'm done I glance into the small, grimy mirror in the corner of the room. My mascara is smeared, my hair is mussed, and my lipstick is beyond hope. I fix my appearance, but it seems a little pointless now. Still, the rituals must be observed.
A bang on the door interrupts my self inspection. After stalking cautiously over I gently open the door. Spike stands before me, in all his darkened glory. I am painfully aware of the fact that I'm wearing only enough to slightly cover my scandalous body. But there's no time to worry now, I haven't showed him my weak side yet, and I don't plan to.
"What do you want?" My voice doesn't quaver a bit, though inside I have turned to a child, petulantly screaming, "I want, I want, I want!" Trying to quell my obsessions, I stand up a little straighter.
"Can we talk?" Narrowing my eyes slightly, I open the door a little farther and step back to allow him entrance, and lean up against the steel wall. It feels like ice where I am, and Spike is the epitome of warmth as he stands brashly before me.
Calmly closing the door, he turns to me and smiles slightly. It is then that I realize that he's drunk. There's more than a hint of alcohol on his breath, and his actions are ever so slightly muddled. But his voice is clear and honest, unaffected by the drink, or perhaps it's the drink that allows him to speak at all. "Faye, there's something you need to know."
I cock my head slightly to the side, pursing my lips a little. "Oh, and what might that be? I'm ever so curious."
He steps closer to me, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him. He's the sun, warming my feeble blue planet. His beautiful lips start to move again. "Faye, I... I have to... to...." Apparently finding that talk is too hard to concentrate on, he steps forward a final, deciding time, and those lips brush my own. With that one touch, the barriers are broken, and I step into his embrace. His silken arms wrap around me, a protective embrace darkened by the tendrils of lust.
After breaking our passionate kiss, he starts to whisper into my ear. "I love you, Faye."
He's lying. Love has absolutely nothing to do with what's going on here. I can't escape the desires that rule my life, my brain has been out of the picture for too long. My body holds all the keys, guards all the doors, and I can't resist Spike, even though I know his brain isn't in control either. When you've lived a life like mine for so long, sometimes you can't win anymore, and you just fall...
And as we dance to the shadow dark tune of lust, I know that with Spike, there will never be a victory. I gave up years ago, this was a cage there was no key to, not even a lock.
As I fall to the very temptations I was trying to escape and abandon my sanity again, I think one last thought.
"I love this."
***
Well well, that took a while. But I'm particularly proud of the second paragraph, I'm likin it. Oh, and I promise that this is going to get a bit more light-hearted. But that will come later. For now, I will make you cry! Bwahahahaha. Anywho, review me! If you don't then I'll know you hate it and never ever write ever again! *cries*
~val~
And, for God's sake, I don't own Cowboy Bebop
***
My Beautiful
Ch. 4- Angelic Sins
So I messed up. Again. It's nothing new. I'm used to the feeling (like newly swallowed hot acid) of disapointment. My mind feels like a broken jigsaw puzzle of emotions, each one wanted to fit in somewhere, but they keep on clashing with each other, and end up forming a half-finished, discolored mess. I'm still processing the fact that Spike is alive, the rest of it is just too much.
When he was alive- well, he still is alive, I guess- but when I didn't think he was dead, I was in love with him. The mystique of him, the way he smoked, the way he talked, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I had never met anyone else who knew that. The way he walked, jaunty, uncaring, laid back, it sent shivers up my spine. The gung-ho attitude, the quick temper, his poignant, heartrending eyes, that told a story more eloquently than all the words in the world. I was in love with it all. Now I am faced with a question- do I love it still?
He had left to die. He had left to live. He had left me behind, lost and broken. When he left to find his dream, I found my nightmare. And now? I guess we've both woken up. I don't know how to feel about him. Should I be angry that he left me in the dust, and never searched for me, probably didn't even wonder about me when I was missing? Or should I just be glad that he's alive?
I spent the last year mourning for him, so I should be happy, right? I don't have to cry anymore, I don't have to drink myself into oblivion to rid myself of his memory. I don't have to be lost, alone. But I don't feel happy- and I'm slowly starting to realize why.
No matter what, he won't love me in return. When he had left, it had been for another woman, another love, another life that I could never touch. And now that he has come back from the dead, nothing will change. His attitude back there proves that- I am a nothing to him, an annoying vixen that eats his food, takes his water, and gets in his way. I am a blur in his vision of a perfect world, a spot of darkness in his light dream. What does he care?
I look up and realize that I've been involved in this bout of introspection for over two hours. My debris is still strewn everywhere, shirts and pants and packs of cigarettes inhabit the floor and bed, a testament to my uselessness. Slowly I start to collect them, as I wipe the tears from my face. After I'm done I glance into the small, grimy mirror in the corner of the room. My mascara is smeared, my hair is mussed, and my lipstick is beyond hope. I fix my appearance, but it seems a little pointless now. Still, the rituals must be observed.
A bang on the door interrupts my self inspection. After stalking cautiously over I gently open the door. Spike stands before me, in all his darkened glory. I am painfully aware of the fact that I'm wearing only enough to slightly cover my scandalous body. But there's no time to worry now, I haven't showed him my weak side yet, and I don't plan to.
"What do you want?" My voice doesn't quaver a bit, though inside I have turned to a child, petulantly screaming, "I want, I want, I want!" Trying to quell my obsessions, I stand up a little straighter.
"Can we talk?" Narrowing my eyes slightly, I open the door a little farther and step back to allow him entrance, and lean up against the steel wall. It feels like ice where I am, and Spike is the epitome of warmth as he stands brashly before me.
Calmly closing the door, he turns to me and smiles slightly. It is then that I realize that he's drunk. There's more than a hint of alcohol on his breath, and his actions are ever so slightly muddled. But his voice is clear and honest, unaffected by the drink, or perhaps it's the drink that allows him to speak at all. "Faye, there's something you need to know."
I cock my head slightly to the side, pursing my lips a little. "Oh, and what might that be? I'm ever so curious."
He steps closer to me, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him. He's the sun, warming my feeble blue planet. His beautiful lips start to move again. "Faye, I... I have to... to...." Apparently finding that talk is too hard to concentrate on, he steps forward a final, deciding time, and those lips brush my own. With that one touch, the barriers are broken, and I step into his embrace. His silken arms wrap around me, a protective embrace darkened by the tendrils of lust.
After breaking our passionate kiss, he starts to whisper into my ear. "I love you, Faye."
He's lying. Love has absolutely nothing to do with what's going on here. I can't escape the desires that rule my life, my brain has been out of the picture for too long. My body holds all the keys, guards all the doors, and I can't resist Spike, even though I know his brain isn't in control either. When you've lived a life like mine for so long, sometimes you can't win anymore, and you just fall...
And as we dance to the shadow dark tune of lust, I know that with Spike, there will never be a victory. I gave up years ago, this was a cage there was no key to, not even a lock.
As I fall to the very temptations I was trying to escape and abandon my sanity again, I think one last thought.
"I love this."
***
Well well, that took a while. But I'm particularly proud of the second paragraph, I'm likin it. Oh, and I promise that this is going to get a bit more light-hearted. But that will come later. For now, I will make you cry! Bwahahahaha. Anywho, review me! If you don't then I'll know you hate it and never ever write ever again! *cries*
~val~