To AnimeShadow: Thank you, thank you, thank you. Great to know that I don't
suck!
To Volpe Di Spirito: I'll try to update often and write more, but sorry, I
can't make any solid promises. It's halfway thru july and I haven't done
any work! Curse you, conscience!
To Kumori Sakusha formerly Saelbu: Arigato gozaimas! It really is great,
knowing that at least one of my fans haven't given up on me! Gomen for not
writing anything for a looooonnnnnngggggg time. In gratitude for your
sticking with me, this fic's dedicated to you! And Hiei...and
Kurama...especially Hiei...THEY'RE MINE, YA HEAR?
To Unseen rose: Thanks! Have to admit that I'm a yaoi fan, but too much of
a good thing is bad for me (seriously), so I tried not to put too much into
this one. Tried to keep it vague on the yaoi point, but sorry, it is yaoi.
To ruby-dream: seriously? I love writing poems, but they all suck. I think
use certain words a bit too much all the time. Thanks for saying that the
first chappie was pretty! I'm really glad to know it.
To all my reviewers: Thank you so very much! ( ) I was so afraid of
getting flamed, but thank god, I'm alive!
Hiei: I could do that...
Kurama: They should say resisting temptation is a virtue...or in this case...a
miracle...
Who were you? Rather, what are you? No creature, demon or otherwise, could
possess what you do. You put gems and silks to shame, the way your eyes gleam and
reflect what they see, the way your hair is so red that it's like a rose with emerald
centers.
What's wrong with me? Why am I suddenly acting like some poetic fool? For
one thing, I loathe poetry (they really do come close to making me vomit), and even
more so being a fool. One cannot survive long in any of the three worlds by being a fool.
But how funny, how strange. At that moment, I could care less about that. My mind was
empty. All I saw was you. You were there. Real. Somehow very real...
No. You couldn't be real, for you were looking right back at me with eyes that
bore no sign of disgust, contempt, etc., whatsoever. No one real could, much less would,
have looked at me without feeling some feeling of intense pity or animosity. I was
forbidden, not because I was so precious, but because of just the opposite. And yet, you
looked at me if I really was something precious, something to be held and never let go
due to my own self-value. Oh, I really feel like laughing at myself now. I would if I was
the laughing type. I, the forbidden one, having someone caring about me? Even loving
me? Ha! The gods are more likely to denounce and throw themselves into the worst of
hell first!
But I wish you were real. I wish you were real, that love was real and even more
so with me. A familiar pain begins to spread throughout my body, a pain that originates
from the knowledge that I was born alone, I live alone, I would continue to live alone,
and I would die alone. The knowledge that nobody gave a damn about me. The
knowledge that no one would worry about me if they didn't know where I was and hope
I was safe, cry because I was suffering, want to be with me when I was lonely, heal my
wounds without condition whenever I should receive any, or want to take my pain away
and wish that I could be just as happy as anyone else. But happiness is a lie. Happy
endings are all lies, something that can only be believed in storybooks. No one would
mourn for me when I was gone. No one would even notice.
But, if you were real, would you? Would you, at the very least, notice that I ever
existed in the first place? That I, myself, was once very much real? I want to laugh and
cry now. Worse than death or eternal suffering is knowing that, even if it lasts for just a
minute, you are alone and not even forgotten, because no one has noticed you long
enough to remember and then forget you. I know the meaning of being lonely, what it
means and what it's worth. It is worth nothing, certainly not as much as you must be.
If I came near, would you run or look upon me as some lowlife not worth even
ignoring? If I spoke to you, would you condescend to me out of pity? Or would you
actually be kind simply because you are? You look like perfection to me, so surely you
can't be anything else. But then, perfection is a dream, something that is not real except
in one's own mind.
I wish I could forget you, then I wouldn't be feeling this new pain now. And yet,
I would sell my soul so that I would never forget you. I would hate myself even more
than I do now, if that is at all possible, if I did. Right now there is no worse punishment
than the one of forgetting you.
You were...the first sweet dream...in this ongoing nightmare of mine...and I
thank you for it...but I still wish...I still wish that you were real.
Fugen: How was that, everyone? Like it? Love it? Just please, don't flame me! That is,
unless you're Hiei...
Hiei: She's implying something...
Kurama: I think that should be a bit clear to you, koi.
Who were you? Rather, what are you? No creature, demon or otherwise, could
possess what you do. You put gems and silks to shame, the way your eyes gleam and
reflect what they see, the way your hair is so red that it's like a rose with emerald
centers.
What's wrong with me? Why am I suddenly acting like some poetic fool? For
one thing, I loathe poetry (they really do come close to making me vomit), and even
more so being a fool. One cannot survive long in any of the three worlds by being a fool.
But how funny, how strange. At that moment, I could care less about that. My mind was
empty. All I saw was you. You were there. Real. Somehow very real...
No. You couldn't be real, for you were looking right back at me with eyes that
bore no sign of disgust, contempt, etc., whatsoever. No one real could, much less would,
have looked at me without feeling some feeling of intense pity or animosity. I was
forbidden, not because I was so precious, but because of just the opposite. And yet, you
looked at me if I really was something precious, something to be held and never let go
due to my own self-value. Oh, I really feel like laughing at myself now. I would if I was
the laughing type. I, the forbidden one, having someone caring about me? Even loving
me? Ha! The gods are more likely to denounce and throw themselves into the worst of
hell first!
But I wish you were real. I wish you were real, that love was real and even more
so with me. A familiar pain begins to spread throughout my body, a pain that originates
from the knowledge that I was born alone, I live alone, I would continue to live alone,
and I would die alone. The knowledge that nobody gave a damn about me. The
knowledge that no one would worry about me if they didn't know where I was and hope
I was safe, cry because I was suffering, want to be with me when I was lonely, heal my
wounds without condition whenever I should receive any, or want to take my pain away
and wish that I could be just as happy as anyone else. But happiness is a lie. Happy
endings are all lies, something that can only be believed in storybooks. No one would
mourn for me when I was gone. No one would even notice.
But, if you were real, would you? Would you, at the very least, notice that I ever
existed in the first place? That I, myself, was once very much real? I want to laugh and
cry now. Worse than death or eternal suffering is knowing that, even if it lasts for just a
minute, you are alone and not even forgotten, because no one has noticed you long
enough to remember and then forget you. I know the meaning of being lonely, what it
means and what it's worth. It is worth nothing, certainly not as much as you must be.
If I came near, would you run or look upon me as some lowlife not worth even
ignoring? If I spoke to you, would you condescend to me out of pity? Or would you
actually be kind simply because you are? You look like perfection to me, so surely you
can't be anything else. But then, perfection is a dream, something that is not real except
in one's own mind.
I wish I could forget you, then I wouldn't be feeling this new pain now. And yet,
I would sell my soul so that I would never forget you. I would hate myself even more
than I do now, if that is at all possible, if I did. Right now there is no worse punishment
than the one of forgetting you.
You were...the first sweet dream...in this ongoing nightmare of mine...and I
thank you for it...but I still wish...I still wish that you were real.
Fugen: How was that, everyone? Like it? Love it? Just please, don't flame me! That is,
unless you're Hiei...
Hiei: She's implying something...
Kurama: I think that should be a bit clear to you, koi.