Author's Notes: Just a quick rambling letter that I jotted down quickly. I'm leaving it up to you to decide who Vincent is speaking to. I left that part open
Who do I think? Well, since I'm a very big slash fan, I imagined Cid, but you're free to think it's directed at whoever you want.
GOOD-BYE
My love,
To be forgiven is something I truly never thought possible. It was something that I was too frightened to believe in, but that was only until I met you. I've decided I want to be clean again. This time, not for my own conscience, but for you. I want to be the person you deserve to have by your side. Yet I'm far too unworthy to ever accomplish that, I know this much. Something in me thinks you knew this from the first time our lips touched as well.
So every time you held me in your arms or spoke to me, I relished in it for I knew it would fade away. My light would go away.
Every smile, every laugh you gave filled me with a little bit of happiness. We have been through our share of torment and pain, but you–you're very different from me. Instead of caving–no breaking– you stood your ground. You never gave up, did you?
For that I'm very happy. I wish I could have borrowed your strength before setting out on my own, but then a part of me knows that I will have to find it in myself. I have to find courage inside my body.
Remember the time you called me frail–someone who needed protection. I almost laughed. Since I've never deserved protection, I made myself strong. That is how one survives in our kind of world. We become so strong, we forget we need others. We forget ourselves and anything else we hold precious.
When I say our world, of course I mean the world of the Turks. Yours is far different from mine.
For instance, my hands are washed in blood, did you know? I can still smell it on them no matter how many times a day I scrub them. It's a stench that follows me everywhere I go. You can't smell it because you haven't lived the life I have, not until recently anyway.
Whether you want to admit it or not, I've lived longer than you. I've been through much more. I'm not ignorant. I couldn't ever afford naivety, but I let you believe it because you're something I wanted to protect. I'm old. A disgusting old man.
I often think that if I looked my age, then you would have never looked twice at me. I would have never had the privilege of feeling your hands on my body or of tasting you. I have to admit, I'm thankful to Hojo for the youthful appearance, since it allowed me to experience your body.
It's true, I could have lived forever in our little world. Lying to you about who I really am. Pretending to be fragile and broken, but I've enough to atone for as it is. I can't hurt you anymore. I can't let you see the murderer in me. My greatest fear is that you'll discover the twinge of excitement I feel before battle. The peace I feel during it.
I've decided. I can't subject you to my true self, so I'll leave now.
If we do ever see each other again, I hope that you'll not have a look of hatred in your eyes. I do expect you to never speak of this ever again, since that is the sort of person you are. If we do meet again, I doubt you'll ever touch me again.
Because I've hurt you and you'll deny me the thing you know I need. Oh, I did forget to mention that, didn't I? The peace I feel when you touch me is the only thing that I haven't lied about. You take away my doubts and my pain even by a simple touch of your hand on my shoulder.
You almost make me believe my lie of being only an innocent victim in Hojo's plans, but at the end of the day, I know the truth. Truths I can't bare to speak here.
But I digress. . . . Your defense mechanisms will make what we once had impossible ever again. I can believe that when or if I see those beautiful eyes again, they'll hold only a gentle fondness for me if not outright hatred. I will be the cause if it's present, so I can accept whatever you'll hold for me. But maybe you'll run so far away from our time, you won't even remember the night you snuck into my bed. Made me bend to your will even though my feeble protests of not being human seemed so convincing to me at that time.
It will just be a memory locked deep in the back of your mind then, won't it?
But that's where I belong.
I know when you find this letter on the pillow, you'll cry. You'll hurt. But I know you'll pull through because you're strong. I know this, even if you don't.
Sincerely,
Vincent Valentine