Perfection
© Scarlet-Child
Disclaimer: I don't own Tekken or any of it's characters.
Summary: Xiaoyin, although I don't actually mention their names
x ♥ x
One day I met a boy.
He was perfect.
Maybe not perfect perfect.
But pretty close.
Or so I thought.
He was my everything. My entire world.
I never thought he would leave.
He was like a solid rock holding up the base of a mountain; holding up an empire. A rich empire that needed him to survive.
I went to school with him. I was three grades below him; I was surprised that he noticed me at all.
We would talk, and although he didn't talk much, it didn't matter to me. As long as he was just there, then I was happy; his presence was so soothing. He was like a combination of a brother and a father that I looked up to more than anyone I had ever known.
He just seemed perfect. I never thought any form of evil could reflect in his gentle, hazel eyes. He was harmless. He should have been harmless. If I could play God for one day, I would change the one fault that he had.
Unfortunately, I am not God or anything remotely close.
If a God had to be picked, it would be Heihachi Mishima.
Cruel.
Dominant.
Powerful.
The world would crumble in his hands.
School finished for him, and we went our separate ways.
I missed him… But everytime I picked up the phone to call him, something would interrupt. Fate got in the way. Fate always got in the way.
It just wasn't fair.
By the time I got the chance to visit him, I just couldn't. It had been too long.
I would have felt like a fool knocking on his mansion's door and asking 'guess who?'
It was too late.
Although, at times I wondered if I really thought it through... Would he really have forgotten so soon? Would he have already erased me from his memory? Was I that unimportant to him?
I don't know the answer to any of these questions. And I never will find out.
A couple of months later, I randomly and unthinkingly flicked on the news.
He was on it.
The old familiar sting.
Every day, on the way to school, I would pass a gossiping crowd, preoccupied with their usual banter – what had happened to him, and where he had gone. It seemed like just yesterday we would walk past the same clique of silly girls, holding hands.
Like best friends do.
Is this what the world has come to? Does anything feel at least a tad bit of compassion these days? A boy, who's entire world shattered in a million pieces in a single gun shot, receives nothing but ridicule and degradation.
Suddenly, everything seems so easy to understand.
And now I understand why the Wicked Witch's famous last words were –
"Oh, what a world, what a world."
If this is what the world has turned to, then fine; apocalypse, please.
It was the always the same group that would call out his name, and blush when he looked up. But now they have turned into a bitter, uncaring crowd that lived to discuss rumours and scandals.
Times have changed, I think sadly.
Sometimes I bump into old school friends and the main topic is always him.
"How did such a nice boy go wrong?" they ask.
And I don't know the answer. I never knew his secrets.
Sometimes it's just hard to know the private thoughts of a shy, withdrawn person. Noone will ever hear these thoughts. These are the thoughts of a boy drowning in the depths of his own, inescapable sorrow.
Everyone I meet talks of 'the old days' and how they miss it. I don't miss them. To me, those are cherished memories. And I never want to relive them again. Seeing his face would just kill my insides, knowing that there could be nothing I could do to save him. Every moment that I would spend in his presence would have been spent trying to help him. But there is no helping the helpless.
I don't want to experience the past again. But I don't want to forget it either.
And maybe one day I'll awake from this nightmare and my best friend will be sitting next to me again, holding hands, like best friends do.
Perfect, just like he always is.
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Feedback appreciated x