Left With A Flower

By Ukyou

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Chapter Two - The Endless Waltz

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The sky was pure lilac, the road set into lonely montages. The lamps were set to dim downwards, leaving only small islands of light upon the sidewalk, in which benches were mere shadows hidden in the dark. I walked down this road today, hands in my coat pockets.

It was late, and I strode down the sidewalk in constant step, looking down constantly and thinking, the puddles giving small ripples out as I stepped within each.

It had been raining only a few minutes ago, and it was bound to start to rain again. I took this walk everyday, from work to home, and I knew the buildings, the street, and even the cracks in the light pavement. I knew the beauty of the trees in the spring, and the downfall of the fall.

The hospital. It loomed over me like a tower that had yet to be explored. The glass doors remained unlocked, even at this hour, and I stopped in front of the massive building, looking at the window that was Sakura's.

It was small, and half open. The curtains had been pulled aside, and I could clearly see that a light had just turned off. Someone was leaving her room.

I don't know exactly what made me stop there, nor do I know what pushed me to walk into the building in the first place. Before I knew it, I was opening the door to the stairs and climbing up, knowing full well that whoever left Sakura's room knew me as well. I didn't need reminiscence.

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The room was empty, as I had thought. Near her bed, another bouquet of flowers, and a framed picture standing up on the table beside her. As I sat, I took the picture and put it face down.

I knew I had forgotten to turn the light on, sitting in the dark, the door letting in the few blinks of light from the hallway. The noir of the room surrounding me like a blanket, and Sakura's hand was the only part of her that I could see, for it was all the light was touching.

Once again, I held her hand. It was cool. She was sleeping again. The angelic impression of her face was untouched by the scope of my eyes, but her hand which I held within mine felt like porcelain, the contours and the pure shape nothing more than art to me.

I could hear the wind grow louder from outside the room, and I walked to shut it. There was a brief flash of lightning, followed by the sudden roar of thunder. It felt overpowering, enough that I was sent back to my chair, the same chair that her man would probably sit upon to caress the very hand I held. To think of it made me sick.

I was glad that I could not see her face at all, for it was foreshadowed among the darkness, it had consumed her in a way. I knew that if I had seen her face, I would've been led to think, think too much perhaps, lead myself down the road of questioning and ranting.

Afterall, she was the one whom had walked away from me. She's the one whose mouth came out the words that I would forever question. I had stood there, not saying a word, only to take the punishment that she could unleash upon me, finishing it all with a back turned.

Our love was a dance. She had careened herself out of my arms, as I danced blindly, still in step. It was an endless waltz I was stuck in, and for no reason at all.

Strange how I said I wouldn't question muyself about all of this, and here I am, questioning. How ironic of me. I must have lied.

I wondered how long she could be sleeping, for I hadn't seen her awake since she left me. It was so long ago, but I still care about her for some reason. Either that, or thats just another lie I'm telling myself. In fact, I also want to find out why...I needed the answers so I could stop my questioning. I needed a stop to the music, the stop of the dance I was dancing.

Why did she turn her back on me?

What had I done?

Why had she betrayed me so?

~to be continued

Author's Note: A story written in the point of view of the somewhat-insane, a man driven to insanity by forces other than his own. Don't be misled that this is simply a conflict of the fact that he wants her back. He doesn't. Syaoran merely wants to be able to live with himself again, for he never knew what he did wrong. That is all.