...Loneliness Unbroken...
by Aoi Umi
Author's notes: Immediately after finishing the anime series, I became restless and so I stayed up until 4:00 writing this. I can't say whether it fits in more with anime canon or manga canon...the inspiration came from both the final episodes and from volume 8 of the manga. So it's some kind of splice between the two. xX
I recommend listening to the song as you read this. There are some places where the song moves faster than my writing, but still, the music really does set the tone in several places.
Disclaimer: Maki Murakami owns Gravitation. Utada Hikaru owns "Kremlin Dusk." And "The Raven," from which this title was taken, was obviously written by Edgar Allen Poe.
By the way: Buy EXODUS, Utada (Hikaru)'s new American album (on which this song can be found), and support her in the 'states! n.n
These streets are exactly as I remember them. Decrepit, lonesome, detached, shadow-laden. Of course, back then, in reality they were not. Only in my perception was this place the freezing hell on Earth I've made it out to be.
The tall, pale figure, cloaked in black, pauses. There is nothing for him to live for, nowhere for him to be. Time bears no relevance; instead of continuing or turning back, he simply withdraws his hands from his pockets and faintly lights a thin cigarette.
There is somewhere I could be. But that has no meaning now. Nothing exists for me there.
His eyelids fall softly, shielding his eyes from the painful, dry coldness of the air.
All alongI was searching for
my Lenore
In the words of Mr. Edgar Allen Poe
The peace I am seeking is dead and gone. I can't bring back the moment and make things right.
And as for the time with him...That was only a dream. Some transient delirium that was never meant to happen. A distraction and a mistake. If I can forget about that as well...
Now I'm sober and"Nevermore"
Will the Raven come to bother me at home
...I can resume living my existence the way it was intended to be. Alone, I can hurt no one.
Calling you, calling youhome
((I've searched, searched everywhere. I've searched myself for any mistakes I may have made that caused you to leave me. Yuki, what do you think you're doing? I know you don't mean it. Stop screwing with me.))
You...calling you, calling youhome
The tears that fall into the ashtray clutched at his breast are continually fresh; he knows this crying is selfish and undignified, but he cares not at all.
((Let them fall. Yuki, you bastard. I wish you would drown in them, you...you...))
He trembles. The silence flutters through his dizzy head and threatens to steal his consciousness.
((But you're not listening, are you? Or maybe you are, and you just hate me so much that you want to watch me strain my voice and my heart and my soul until all of them break, and you'll be able to laugh at what a fool I am.))
A morbid smirk teases the corner of his mouth.
((And you're right.))
By the dooryou said you had to go
Couldn't help me any, anymore
((You weren't serious. You just needed some space for awhile; I understood.))
This I saw coming, long before
((You always needed space. It was sometimes like you were never there at all...and there I was pretending that it was normal and that you loved me and that we were both happy despite our glaring obstacles.))
So I kept on staring out the window
((Because of course you would come back. You always did. Like a pet I took your love as you saw fit to dispense it; like a pet I stared and waited for you to come home, and I enjoyed it.))
Calling you, calling youhome
(( I enjoyed it, dammit. I was yours, fixedly, solely yours until the end of forever.))
You...calling you, calling you home
I am a natural entertainerAren't we all?
((Everything I did was for your sake; even the things that annoyed you and the things you didn't like. The only thing I ever thought about was Yuki. Yuki.))
Holding pieces of dying emberI'm just trying to remember who I can call
((Even when I didn't mean to think of you, every action was driven by you. I know it. Because now I can't do anything, not even act like I'm okay for the sake of anyone at all.))
((I can try.))
((But it won't be the same.))
((I can never be me again.))
Who can I call?
He sinks dazedly into the depths of the velvet violet couch, but does not, cannot rest. Through the grand picture window, the city lights taunt him. It is the same sparkling scene that has lent a backdrop to so many sparkling, sultry, salacious nights. It is his vision of heaven, suddenly slashed in a violent massacre and thrown in bits to the ground, yet still placidly exactly the same.
Rain falls from the skies of Tokyo, each solitary liquid ember in a scattered collection of millions gaining momentum and cutting through the inhospitable air, only to ultimately scatter, melt, and die in an instant beneath the feet of indifferent passers-by.
In an observable but inexplicable phenomenon, they are drawn to Earth despite this inevitable fate.
The stronger the action, the more painful the opposing reaction.
Home...calling you, calling you
But Home is nowhere to this desperately missed person. These despondent cries fall on deaf ears across dark thousands of miles.
He lifts his eyes in contemplation, almost so calmly as to betray the singular anguish burdening this action.
I run a secret propagandaAren't we all
hiding pieces of
broken anger
This is who I am. It's been ordained that I will never find peace. There is nothing he can do to change this.
I'm just trying to remember who I can call
There is no one.
A thin wisp of smoke entwines itself in the clear, cold, sharp air. As it reaches for the heavens, it dissipates before it even has the chance to be heeded or acknowledged.
Can I call
Born in a war of opposite attractionIt isn't, or is it a natural conception?
Torn by the arms in opposite directions
It isn't, or is it a Modernist reaction?
Born in a war of opposite attraction
A thing immoral and never meant to be
It isn't, or is it a natural conception?
Somehow confusedly came to exist.
Torn by the arms in opposite directions
Neither lover is capable of fully accepting it
It isn't, or is it a Modernist reaction?
And so it is meanwhile fated to go nowhere.
Is it like this?
Is it always the same?
((So many people have had their hearts broken. I know I'm not the first. But I still feel like I am the first and only.))
When a heartache begins, is it like this?
((You are my first and only love. Yuki.))
Do you like this?
((Are you happier now? Free? Better off?))
Is it always the same?Will you come back again?
Do you like this?
Yes, I am sure this is for the best.
Is it always the sameAnd will you come back again?
Do you like this?
What's to like about a world with me in it? He may bring temporary ease and make my life more bearable, but in the end none of it matters. It will only serve to slowly damage all of those involved.
Is it like this
Is it always the same?
It has never been like this. Never had the younger experienced such selfless, blessed, blighted love; never had the older encountered someone so devoted in his condemned but deathly honest affections.
If you change your phone number, will you tell me?
((I can't let you go. Not yet. Not ever. Please don't hide, but know that if you do, I will find you.))
Is it like thisIs it always the same
When a heartache begins, is it like this?
If you like this
Will you remember my name?
((You had better not forget me like you tried to forget everything else.))
Will you play it again, if you like this?
((If you come back and start over with me, I'll be a good boy. I'll lick your wounds and do what you want after dark; it can be the same again.))
((Love me in the present, or at least let me have that illusion.))
((I liked this.))