Tsukushi was sitting at the edge of an ornamental fish pond, watching the
carp swirling randomly in the cool water below. If only her life could be
so simple as theirs was. But no, she'd probably be bored then. Hah, at
least her life hadn't been boring in years. That was something to feel
positive about, right? Right.
Tsukushi snorted softly at that thought. There were people she knew, who would kill to be right where she was now. The more fools they. At least the fog had finally started to lift, as the afternoon sun warmed the mountain slopes. Brown eyes turned up from the rippling pool to take in the swirls of mist as they warmed, lifted from ground and leaf and pool to evaporate into the breeze. And there, where the fog parted like curtains on a stage, was Rui, ambling nearer with a seemingly aimless stride. Though, of course, she knew better. There was never anything truly random about his actions. Not if you thought about it. Not if you knew Rui as well as she did. For he had known, as well as she, that this conversation was impending, and all his love, all his desire, and his need, couldn't change that, no matter what he might have said to Sakurako previously. Nor was he a coward to run from his doom. Best to just get the whole fiasco over with and done, before Tsukushi let herself agonize any more over the right words to use. The right words would come, he was sure.
"Heya," He greeted, as he slouched to sit next to Tsukushi.
"Hey." Her gaze darted up to meet his, before flitting down to stare fixedly at the chaotic dance of the fish in the water below. "Rui. . . I . . . we." She began hesitantly, unsure of how to begin. Lamely she could hear herself utter that one damning phrase, the one that never bodes well for anyone, "We need to talk."
"I know." Much to his own surprise, Rui's tone approximated that of his old unflappable self; cool, collected, and emotionless. Already beginning to draw his old shield around himself in preparation for the hurt he was about to receive.
Beside him, Tsukushi shuddered, recognizing that tone, and hating it. And before she knew it, the words had started to pour forth, as if to forestall his further utterance, "We can't go on like this, It's not working. I thought it could. I thought I could. I thought we could be happy, but I was wrong."
"Tsu. . ." He tried to interrupt, but she wouldn't let him.
"Don't!" she pled, brown eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall, "I know what you're going to say, but please don't! I wanted to make you happy. I wanted you to make me happy. But it's not right. I'm not doing right by you. I wanted to try, but I can't try any more. The more I try, the worse it gets. I love him, Rui. I love Doumyouji. No matter how much he breaks my heart, no matter how much I hurt. My heart belongs to him. And I . . . I can't do right by you. You deserve so much better than the heartache I've brought. You deserve to be happy, you deserve someone who can make you happy. But I. . . I cannot." She felt a desperate sob rising in the back of her throat and fought to stifle it with silence before it erupted into a full-blown wail.
Rui sighed, and tried to phrase an adequate response, one which would help to reassure her, to quash her doubts, to keep her by his side. "Tsukushi," He began, buying himself another few seconds of time in which to think, "how can you say such things about yourself? You're. . . the most Alive person I know. And no matter what you think, you make me happy."
"Which of us are you trying to fool?" Se couldn't help letting the bitterness rise, if only for a second. "The past few days -- look at yourself; irritable, morose! You've been as bad as Doumyouji!"
"That's not your fault. It's the others." He waved a hand to implicate their friends, wherever they might all be lurking. "But mostly, It's mine. We could have been happy. . . before. Before we came here. . . Before. . . " he trailed off, sure that Tsukushi knew just what he meant, "I was happy. I could have made you happy too."
"But it's too late for that now." Tsukushi shook her head, unwilling to be bogged down in what could have been, what might have been, what should have been. "I tried, and you know, I wanted to give it my all, to give it my best shot. . But Rui, I tried, and I failed, I couldn't try hard enough. . . "
"Because your heart wasn't in it." Rui slumped further in defeat, his lanky frame seeming to sink into the ground as he pondered the pebbles between his feet.
"I'll always be your friend." Tsukushi reached out a hand to pat him consolingly on the knee, "But I can't be your girlfriend. And it was wrong of me to try. . .I only hurt us more."
Rui's hand crept up to cover hers, even as he leaned forward to bury his face in his other arm. He didn't even try to reply. What would the point have been, after all? What did he have left to offer her that he hadn't already tried? For a few minutes an almost companionable silence reigned as they sat together, alone with their thoughts. After a while, Rui trusted his voice enough to allow him to speak again, though he kept his face buried in his arm, afraid of showing Tsukushi too much of the pain behind his eyes.
"Can you ever forgive me?" For he knew just what had ruined any possibility they might ever have had of happiness together.
"I already have." She replied equally quietly, lacing her fingers with his in an effort to calm them both, "And besides. It was my fault as much as yours. It's I who should apologize for leading you on. For putting you through all this."
"You never led me on." Rui's muffled laugh could not conceal his self- disgust, "I always knew you better than that."
"You always have." She agreed, as she leaned up against him for warmth or for comfort. Acknowledging that both of them had pretended to believe in a shallow façade. That both had acted foolishly, in pursuit of a dream whose fate it was, once more, to die stillborn, before reaching its potential.
If only they could go back in time, to fix their mistakes, prevent the actions, reactions, mistakes and accidents that had led to this pass. But dreams change nothing, and the past is immutable. This reality, this cold damp foggy place in which they were now, blundering around like fools in the night, this was all they had, and all they would ever have to work with.
"I used to believe, If you wait for your dreams, they will come to you." Rui mulled absently.
"Only if you live your life asleep."
"I should have woken up." Rui growled, "Every time that fool broke your heart, I waited and I watched and I dreamed that you would change your mind. That things would be different, that you would come to me as a lover and not as a friend. But I was wrong; I should have come after you, I should have made you see."
Sadly, Tsukushi shook her head, "Somehow, you know. I always knew. Just as I always knew why Doumyouji acted the way he did. I just never could admit it to anyone, least of all myself."
"I know." Rui sighed again, tired of the futility of speech. "But my dreams are all I have left. "That and his memories. At least he still had those.
"I'm sorry." Was all Tsukushi could bring herself to whisper. He looked about as bad as she felt. But what else could she have said? What else could they have done? Better to have ended this affair now, before the wounds got any deeper.
The silence stretched on, as the two friends sat together, the warmth of their bodies a cold comfort for the hurts of their hearts. Rui could have cried, could have screamed his frustration to the skies, as he'd been known to do when pushed past the brink, but what good would that have done? All it would have served to do would be to bring Tsukushi undeserved pain. It was not her fault that she could not love him the way he would have wished. No, he would save his outward expressions of misery for when he was truly alone.
"I guess. . . " Tsukushi spoke at last, as if after an eternity of silence, "I guess I should move my stuff out of your room. I'll stay in Shigeru's room tonight, and ask for a ride back to Tokyo in the morning."
Rui nodded morosely, his gaze fixed off in space, as if entranced by the yellow afternoon sun glinting off the condensation-flecked leaves of the garden's ornamental trees. That was it then. Over, their too-short, too- tense, too-intense affair, ended by a few sad words and by the removal of a few physical items from his space. Hah. A few physical items indeed. The loneliness of an empty bed, of arms that couldn't embrace Tsukushi at any hour of the day or night, of no longer being her primary source of comfort and closeness.
Rui closed his eyes against the world, as if the cheerful sun now shining down was too intense for him, as if he craved the obfuscating fog to return, to save him from the sight of Tsukushi rising to leave his side after one final hug, or to save him from the thought that whirled relentlessly through his head, telling him that he would always be alone, that he would always love in vain, always lose to forces beyond his control.
A single tear dripped down his cheek, as he bowed his head once more, pressing a hand to his side as if to preserve the last lingering heat from her touch. Eventually, even that heat faded and he was left alone, just him and his thoughts, and the uncaring fish in the pool below.
TBC
- - - Now that dragged on like an overwrought melodrama from hell, now didn't it? Thank god that scene's over and I can move on to more interesting things. My deepest apologies to everyone for my utter lameness in updating everything. I have no excuse you know. Life just is an attention-sucking beast right now and I got uninspired for a long time. still am, really. But I felt bad not at least trying to update, hence this piece of shit chapter. My thanks to all you wonderful readers who are sticking by me after, holy hell, has it really been 21 months since I started this? You guys rock. Also love to the new readers whose discovery of this fic and kind reviews help inspire me to keep on writing even when it feels like all that spews from my keyboard is the worst kind of verbal diarrhea ever invented. Whee. Ok, I have also been trying to work on chapters for WW and idiots, but the chapter of idiots I started needs to be trashed and begun from scratch so who knows when those'll be coming out? Not I! - - cm- - -
Tsukushi snorted softly at that thought. There were people she knew, who would kill to be right where she was now. The more fools they. At least the fog had finally started to lift, as the afternoon sun warmed the mountain slopes. Brown eyes turned up from the rippling pool to take in the swirls of mist as they warmed, lifted from ground and leaf and pool to evaporate into the breeze. And there, where the fog parted like curtains on a stage, was Rui, ambling nearer with a seemingly aimless stride. Though, of course, she knew better. There was never anything truly random about his actions. Not if you thought about it. Not if you knew Rui as well as she did. For he had known, as well as she, that this conversation was impending, and all his love, all his desire, and his need, couldn't change that, no matter what he might have said to Sakurako previously. Nor was he a coward to run from his doom. Best to just get the whole fiasco over with and done, before Tsukushi let herself agonize any more over the right words to use. The right words would come, he was sure.
"Heya," He greeted, as he slouched to sit next to Tsukushi.
"Hey." Her gaze darted up to meet his, before flitting down to stare fixedly at the chaotic dance of the fish in the water below. "Rui. . . I . . . we." She began hesitantly, unsure of how to begin. Lamely she could hear herself utter that one damning phrase, the one that never bodes well for anyone, "We need to talk."
"I know." Much to his own surprise, Rui's tone approximated that of his old unflappable self; cool, collected, and emotionless. Already beginning to draw his old shield around himself in preparation for the hurt he was about to receive.
Beside him, Tsukushi shuddered, recognizing that tone, and hating it. And before she knew it, the words had started to pour forth, as if to forestall his further utterance, "We can't go on like this, It's not working. I thought it could. I thought I could. I thought we could be happy, but I was wrong."
"Tsu. . ." He tried to interrupt, but she wouldn't let him.
"Don't!" she pled, brown eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall, "I know what you're going to say, but please don't! I wanted to make you happy. I wanted you to make me happy. But it's not right. I'm not doing right by you. I wanted to try, but I can't try any more. The more I try, the worse it gets. I love him, Rui. I love Doumyouji. No matter how much he breaks my heart, no matter how much I hurt. My heart belongs to him. And I . . . I can't do right by you. You deserve so much better than the heartache I've brought. You deserve to be happy, you deserve someone who can make you happy. But I. . . I cannot." She felt a desperate sob rising in the back of her throat and fought to stifle it with silence before it erupted into a full-blown wail.
Rui sighed, and tried to phrase an adequate response, one which would help to reassure her, to quash her doubts, to keep her by his side. "Tsukushi," He began, buying himself another few seconds of time in which to think, "how can you say such things about yourself? You're. . . the most Alive person I know. And no matter what you think, you make me happy."
"Which of us are you trying to fool?" Se couldn't help letting the bitterness rise, if only for a second. "The past few days -- look at yourself; irritable, morose! You've been as bad as Doumyouji!"
"That's not your fault. It's the others." He waved a hand to implicate their friends, wherever they might all be lurking. "But mostly, It's mine. We could have been happy. . . before. Before we came here. . . Before. . . " he trailed off, sure that Tsukushi knew just what he meant, "I was happy. I could have made you happy too."
"But it's too late for that now." Tsukushi shook her head, unwilling to be bogged down in what could have been, what might have been, what should have been. "I tried, and you know, I wanted to give it my all, to give it my best shot. . But Rui, I tried, and I failed, I couldn't try hard enough. . . "
"Because your heart wasn't in it." Rui slumped further in defeat, his lanky frame seeming to sink into the ground as he pondered the pebbles between his feet.
"I'll always be your friend." Tsukushi reached out a hand to pat him consolingly on the knee, "But I can't be your girlfriend. And it was wrong of me to try. . .I only hurt us more."
Rui's hand crept up to cover hers, even as he leaned forward to bury his face in his other arm. He didn't even try to reply. What would the point have been, after all? What did he have left to offer her that he hadn't already tried? For a few minutes an almost companionable silence reigned as they sat together, alone with their thoughts. After a while, Rui trusted his voice enough to allow him to speak again, though he kept his face buried in his arm, afraid of showing Tsukushi too much of the pain behind his eyes.
"Can you ever forgive me?" For he knew just what had ruined any possibility they might ever have had of happiness together.
"I already have." She replied equally quietly, lacing her fingers with his in an effort to calm them both, "And besides. It was my fault as much as yours. It's I who should apologize for leading you on. For putting you through all this."
"You never led me on." Rui's muffled laugh could not conceal his self- disgust, "I always knew you better than that."
"You always have." She agreed, as she leaned up against him for warmth or for comfort. Acknowledging that both of them had pretended to believe in a shallow façade. That both had acted foolishly, in pursuit of a dream whose fate it was, once more, to die stillborn, before reaching its potential.
If only they could go back in time, to fix their mistakes, prevent the actions, reactions, mistakes and accidents that had led to this pass. But dreams change nothing, and the past is immutable. This reality, this cold damp foggy place in which they were now, blundering around like fools in the night, this was all they had, and all they would ever have to work with.
"I used to believe, If you wait for your dreams, they will come to you." Rui mulled absently.
"Only if you live your life asleep."
"I should have woken up." Rui growled, "Every time that fool broke your heart, I waited and I watched and I dreamed that you would change your mind. That things would be different, that you would come to me as a lover and not as a friend. But I was wrong; I should have come after you, I should have made you see."
Sadly, Tsukushi shook her head, "Somehow, you know. I always knew. Just as I always knew why Doumyouji acted the way he did. I just never could admit it to anyone, least of all myself."
"I know." Rui sighed again, tired of the futility of speech. "But my dreams are all I have left. "That and his memories. At least he still had those.
"I'm sorry." Was all Tsukushi could bring herself to whisper. He looked about as bad as she felt. But what else could she have said? What else could they have done? Better to have ended this affair now, before the wounds got any deeper.
The silence stretched on, as the two friends sat together, the warmth of their bodies a cold comfort for the hurts of their hearts. Rui could have cried, could have screamed his frustration to the skies, as he'd been known to do when pushed past the brink, but what good would that have done? All it would have served to do would be to bring Tsukushi undeserved pain. It was not her fault that she could not love him the way he would have wished. No, he would save his outward expressions of misery for when he was truly alone.
"I guess. . . " Tsukushi spoke at last, as if after an eternity of silence, "I guess I should move my stuff out of your room. I'll stay in Shigeru's room tonight, and ask for a ride back to Tokyo in the morning."
Rui nodded morosely, his gaze fixed off in space, as if entranced by the yellow afternoon sun glinting off the condensation-flecked leaves of the garden's ornamental trees. That was it then. Over, their too-short, too- tense, too-intense affair, ended by a few sad words and by the removal of a few physical items from his space. Hah. A few physical items indeed. The loneliness of an empty bed, of arms that couldn't embrace Tsukushi at any hour of the day or night, of no longer being her primary source of comfort and closeness.
Rui closed his eyes against the world, as if the cheerful sun now shining down was too intense for him, as if he craved the obfuscating fog to return, to save him from the sight of Tsukushi rising to leave his side after one final hug, or to save him from the thought that whirled relentlessly through his head, telling him that he would always be alone, that he would always love in vain, always lose to forces beyond his control.
A single tear dripped down his cheek, as he bowed his head once more, pressing a hand to his side as if to preserve the last lingering heat from her touch. Eventually, even that heat faded and he was left alone, just him and his thoughts, and the uncaring fish in the pool below.
TBC
- - - Now that dragged on like an overwrought melodrama from hell, now didn't it? Thank god that scene's over and I can move on to more interesting things. My deepest apologies to everyone for my utter lameness in updating everything. I have no excuse you know. Life just is an attention-sucking beast right now and I got uninspired for a long time. still am, really. But I felt bad not at least trying to update, hence this piece of shit chapter. My thanks to all you wonderful readers who are sticking by me after, holy hell, has it really been 21 months since I started this? You guys rock. Also love to the new readers whose discovery of this fic and kind reviews help inspire me to keep on writing even when it feels like all that spews from my keyboard is the worst kind of verbal diarrhea ever invented. Whee. Ok, I have also been trying to work on chapters for WW and idiots, but the chapter of idiots I started needs to be trashed and begun from scratch so who knows when those'll be coming out? Not I! - - cm- - -