Author's Notes: Only for you, Joy, only for you. You know that I do not ship D/G whatsoever. But you do, and so, a D/G vignette is your Christmas present. I hope you like, fellow Stalker! Don't compare it to any other D/G's out there, they know their field, and even though I don't ship it, I must say, quite a lot of them are very, very good. But like I said, only for you! Merry Christmas! :)
It's impossible, I told her.
It could never be, I told her.
I even laughed at her.
You really think we could last? I said, mockingly.
She had said nothing; she only looked at me with a masked fire in her eyes. I should have known then. But, being the idiot I was, I continued to spew out hateful words that I didn't mean, that I didn't even know what I was saying.
And then, that's when she turned away. That's when she turned away, and didn't look back.
I convinced myself that our short-lived relationship was based on passion, lust, spontaneity, a need to rebel against anything. And maybe most of it was. And maybe most of it wasn't- I don't know anymore, I don't remember anymore.
There was attraction there, I remember that. We were attracted to each other the way North and South poles are attracted to each other on two magnets. Maybe it was our respective longings to seek something that we had never known before- me, a true family, her, wealth, a bad boy. Maybe we were just caught up in the moment of things. Maybe we were just both crazy.
Or maybe we were the sanest we had ever been, and could ever hope to be again.
We surprised each other, I know. I didn't expect her to have a sarcastic side; she didn't expect me to be remotely thoughtful. But she was, and I was.
Maybe we wanted to test our limits, our boundaries. Maybe we wanted to see how far the sky really was.
It almost drives me crazy, all these "maybes" and " what ifs". It almost keeps me sane, too.
Most people would probably compare us to a modern day Romeo and Juliet. The pure passion was there, the feuding families were there, but death was not there, nor a reconciling of said feuding families.
Well, I supposed it depends on what you define as death.
I'll admit, something in me died when she left, and I could probably say the same for her. I'm not sure what it was. It wasn't love. We didn't love each other- I'm not sure that we could have.
But, then again, I don't know. I don't know so many things anymore; this is certainly one of them.
Maybe we could have fallen in love.
Maybe we would have.
Maybe we were in love.
Maybe I'm still in love.
I don't know, wouldn't know, and now, I won't ever know.
But knowing is overrated, isn't it? Isn't it better to not have known, to never know? To always be caught on the edge of suspense, wondering, but never knowing for sure?
It leaves room for fear, doubt, anxiety, frustration…so many unpleasant things.
But it leaves room for hope, too.
Maybe I do want to know.
Maybe I always have.