Je Suis Désolé

Chapter 6

Shuichi's hand clutched the worn piece of paper.  Its presence in his pocket had been so frequent over the last year that he had actually just become used to it, feeling slightly uncomfortable and naked when it was absent, but otherwise he had come to hardly notice its presence at all.

Now, though, he was so nervous that his hand closed around it so tightly that it put thick new creases among the scars of the old ones.  Frankly, he was glad he had brought it with.

You'll be happier this way.

"No, I won't be happier.  But you'll be happier, and I'll let you enjoy that."

The edges were torn and ripped, making it look jagged and abused.  The bright, clean, white color had faded into a dull yellow.  The fibers had begun to split, making each one defined in a darker shade of brown against the yellow backdrop, and had also made the paper so brittle that a straight tear halfway down the middle had magically appeared one day.

But the ink remained black as ever, and the words, written in the elegant hand, only became more noticeable over time.  He had long since memorized what it said.

Please forget about me.

Its presence in his pocket reminded him day after day.  It served as a testament that he wouldn't forget, even after the paper crumbled and turned to dust.

"I'm sorry."

Despite what Tohma said, what everyone said, he couldn't see how Yuki could want him anymore.  Not after the way he had acted.

Leaving him without a goodbye.  Always yelling, always glaring, never waiting.

Never loving.

"I'm sorry."

But no matter what, Yuki would always be a part of him, and Shuichi wouldn't let it go.  He couldn't; it would break him, shatter him, if he ever did.

Yuki had enough arrogance for the both of them, but Shuichi decided that just once, he would be the one to be selfish and hurtful.  He would reclaim Yuki as his own.  He would be the one to be happy this time.

I'm leaving now, and I won't return.  For you.

"I'm sorry, Yuki.  I'm sorry."  For me…  Return for me…

It was just a matter of time before he would see Yuki again, and he knew that he would do anything to get the novelist to return.  He would try anything, subject himself to anything, if it would get the novelist back.

He could see bright flashes in his mind, shards of glass reflecting light so brightly that he was blinded.  And there was blood slowly crawling down his own hand, a river of red flowing from his own knuckles, infecting his other hand with its red trail.  The blood escaping from inside to out, spreading over his skin, engulfing him in a warm liquid fire, before it continued on to the silver shards of glass, dyeing them red.  And he was crying so hard that he couldn't believe he was still able to survive—he should have suffocated already—as he waited for the blond novelist to rush inside and pull him into a loving embrace and tend to his ripped hand and his broken mirror.

He had waited so long, but the cuts never healed themselves, so he had decided to venture out himself, to find the one who would fix his wounds…and his broken mirror.

I'm sorry, but this is…

He was gripping the piece of paper so tightly that his knuckles hurt.  Tohma was walking in front of him, leading him up the walkway towards a large house, blanketed with a silver glaze and surrounded by a lawn so green it looked otherworldly.  The American sun beat down on him relentlessly despite the presence of clouds.  Fear ebbed through him so thickly that it blocked all of his senses, making him feel strangely detached from the world but forced to walk through it all the same.

This was where Yuki lived.

Tohma's white hand moved so slowly up towards the doorbell that Shuichi felt the need to order him to hurry up, but he had already completed the task before Shuichi could even open his mouth.

Goodbye.

The door swung open, seeming as though it was angry with the interruption, though immediately a handsome pale face poked out, its perfect irritated expression marred only by the appearance of dried tears down his cheeks.  Shuichi watched, his eyes so wide with fear that he couldn't blink, as the golden gaze traveled from Tohma to himself and lingered there, emotionless, for what seemed like forever.

I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry," Shuichi's voice hit his own ears with a painful sting.  "I'm sorry…"

He heard Tohma inhale sharply, though Yuki remained silent, motionless, just watching.

"I'm sorry, but…  I can't accept this," Shuichi finished as he yanked his hand out of his pocket, still holding on to the scarred paper.  He extended his arm in front of his bowed head, towards Yuki, and waited until he felt someone tug the note out of his hand.  He slowly lifted his eyes and watched as Yuki gently unfolded it and stared at it, his eyes widening slightly in surprise but otherwise still showing no emotion.

Shuichi waited in shaken silence for what seemed like an appropriate length, watching Yuki read and reread the note as if he couldn't believe the words that were written across it, before he decided it was time to leave Yuki alone and began to trudge away with a heavy atmosphere hovering around him.  Before he could take more than a step, however, a strong hand gripped his shirt collar and pulled him backwards, past Tohma, past the doorframe, past Yuki himself and into the house.  He heard the door slam shut and felt himself being dragged into the living room and thrown onto the couch.  His eyes lingered on the hardwood floor, glazed with the strange silver sheen, as he decided he was still unable to look up at Yuki.  He could see Yuki's form standing still in his peripheral vision, though he could tell just by the heavy, anxious atmosphere that Yuki was plague with the same awkwardness as him.  Thoughts were racing through his mind so fast that it seemed empty, and he desperately tried to hold onto a thought long enough to process it.  Briefly his mind clicked back onto Tohma for some unknown reason, and Shuichi realized that he was currently absent, after most likely having a door slammed in his face.  Of course, Tohma had probably been expecting that, seeing as though everyone who dealt with Yuki seemed to experience that at least once.

"Shuichi…you…"

Shuichi's mind snapped back to the present so quickly that he felt faint for a second, but he allowed his eyes to wander up from their place on the shining hardwood floor to Yuki's pained face that now looked a few shades paler than Shuichi had ever seen it.  The golden eyes seemed to be barely managing to keep eye contact with him; they had a fragile look to them.  Shuichi studied Yuki, noting every little detail about him; he looked like he should have been lying in a casket somewhere. 

But, somehow, Yuki looked as beautiful as Shuichi remembered.  Shuichi knew that he was so close to getting Yuki back, and he felt no reluctance to do so.  He wanted Yuki more than ever before.

"I'm sorry, Yuki," Shuichi whispered, finally breaking the eye contact and lowering his gaze to his hands folded in his lap.  "I understand that you wanted to leave me…  And I tried to respect your wish, I tried really hard."  Tears began to spill from his eyes, but he did not move to wipe them from his cheeks.  "But I can't, Yuki.  I'm sorry, but I can't.  Because I love you too much for that."  His voice caught in a painful gasp, and at last his straight, stiff posture crumbled as he fell forward and buried his face in his hands.  He felt like in idiot, crying in front of the deadly silent Yuki, and he wondered what Yuki thought of him now, or what expression he had on his face, but Shuichi didn't dare lift his head.  It was embarrassing enough for Yuki to be able to hear him sniveling and gasping, so he didn't want Yuki to see whatever condition his face was in.

It was a vain wish, though, because as soon as he felt the gentle touch on his shoulder, his eyes darted out from their hiding spot and were immediately caught by the golden gaze that was now only inches away from him.  The yellow eyes held a pleading look, asking him for something.  It was the same look that Yuki had been wearing at the concert; Shuichi recognized it immediately.  It was a look Shuichi had never seen before Yuki had disappeared, and suddenly Shuichi realized why.  It was asking him something, and although he hadn't had the will to find out what it was before at the concert, Shuichi knew it was something important.  He was asking of Shuichi what Shuichi had been asking of him the whole time. 

"I'm sorry," the words escaped from his mouth in a soft whisper, barely audible and echoing in Shuichi's ears.  "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…Shuichi…  Please…" 

Tears were visible in his eyes, reflecting the overhead lights like a mirror so that the gold was hidden beneath them.  Shuichi's mouth pulled itself into a frown as he blinked back his own tears and unconsciously ran his hand across Yuki's cheek, reflexively causing the golden eyes to close and the first of the tears to trail down his face.

They both had wanted the same thing, they both had asked the same thing, so why hadn't either of them realized it before?  The answer had been right there in front of them, so obvious that they had both missed it entirely.

"I love you."

Shuichi stared at Yuki with a penetrating gaze, his eyes strong but gentle at the same time.  It was over now, he knew.  It had finally come to a close.  They had both seen it, they had both asked their questions and gotten their answers.  There was no need for his next words, and yet they spilled out almost as if it were some sort of practiced formality that he had become so used to he didn't even think about its meaning anymore.

"That's the first time you've ever said that to me."  It was a pointless statement, and yet a smile touched his lips as he said it.  Perhaps it was a smile of victory, he reasoned, or relief.  A similar smiled graced Yuki's features as well, mirroring Shuichi's expression almost exactly.

The dialogue died there, but it was a trivial matter; words were no longer needed.  The two remained there, each looking into a mirror and finally seeing past the reflection.

========

Notes:  Short chapter that took me nearly twice as long as usual to post.  I know, I'm sorry.  It's not quite over yet; there's still an epilogue next.  But yeah, this story is so screwed up, it's a little hard to write sometimes.

Thanks to all those who reviewed so far!

And, for anon:  The Japanese learning program I have is called "Eurotalk: Talk Now Japanese."  However, I really don't recommend that because it only teaches you phrases and vocabulary and does nothing to help you understand the sentence structure.  To learn Japanese, if you can't find an actual teacher, you could go to a bookstore and find a textbook called "Japanese for Busy People."  That's a pretty good and cheap one (I got mine for about $25), if you have the patience to read through it and teach yourself.

Until next time,

Cassi