It was raining; I could feel wet drops of water fall from the sky, landing on my face with a slight splash. The water seemed to snap me out of my trance, and I finally realized what I had done. I looked over to Ren, seeing his pale skin and helpless look. I walked over to him, reaching down my hand and taking his. I knew right away, even before feeling how cold he was, that he was dead.
I rubbed his hand in my own, trying to warm it. When nothing happened, I began to worry even more. What have I done? I just killed my best friend, not to mention the person I…
And then it hit me, hard; I no longer was confused about my feelings for Ren, and I knew what had been true for a long time. I did love him… with all of my heart. The only problem was, he was dead, and I had killed him.
Why had I done such a thing? Could it have been that my confusion had blinded me? There was a very thin line between love and hate for me, and I had been in the middle and slipped to the wrong side of that line. Now I regretted ever coming to Mata Cemetery in the first place.
I began crying immediately without even realizing that I was. My newly shed tears blended in so well with the rain still falling harshly and unforgivingly upon my love's cold, dead body.
I pulled Ren on to my lap, embracing him as though he would come back to life at any given moment. Not even my jacket could protect me from the cold that came off of the body before me. Oh, how I wanted more than anything for him to spring back from his deep sleep and hit me, insult me, do anything that would signify that nothing had happened to him. But no, he remained still, not saying a word. He was so silent; so cold; so dead.
I pulled his hand, still clutched tightly in my own, up to my face. I kissed it lightly, wanting to do the same thing to his lips, but knowing deep in my heart that it would not be right. How I felt was not right. He was a guy, and I was a guy, so it was impossible for us to be in love; to have ever been in love. But then, why did I feel that way about him? I wondered for a moment whether he had loved me or not, but I knew all along that he never had.
I lay down his body gently, tears still streaming from my eyes. I was surprised that he was so cold, but I had piled snow over him after he had died, and that could have made him that much colder. I looked down at him again, and punched a nearby tree in my rage. I was angry at myself for what I had done, angry at him for letting my do it, and angry at his father for sending him to the Inn in the first place. None of this would have happened if Ren had just stayed in China, and that made me even more furious for some reason. I was angry at everyone and everything; I was just angry.
I did not want to leave him there, but I was unsure at the time how my friends –his friends also—would take it. I turned to walk away, looking back at his lone figure one last time. I felt hot tears sting at my eyes and cloud my vision, and I was glad, because then I would not have to see him that way again. It broke my heart.
I still did not know what drove me to do what I had done. I was out of my mind, and just the thought of what I did killed me more inside. No, I thought to myself, I did not kill him; it was not me. Something was controlling me. I can't have done that! I loved him! Why did this have to happen? Why to him and not me? Of course I loved him, but it took his death for me to realize that fact.
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I arrived at the Inn soon after, going right up to my room. I did not want anyone else to see my tears. I ran up the stairs to the room I was staying in, flinging myself upon my bed and burying my face in my pillow; I did not know what was happening to me, but I felt like crying. I knew crying could not bring him back, but I could not stop. What else was I supposed to do after killing the one person I loved beyond all others?
I heard Yoh and the others leave the house, and I knew it was safe for me to come out of my room. I snuck out through my door, down the hall, and to my destination. I did not even know why I was going there, but something about his room drew me in, and I knew that was where I should go. I wanted to revisit his memory, even if my last memory of him was my worst.
I stepped into the sunlight of his bedroom window, surprised that his room was so bright. It was clean, compact, and very organized. There was only one thing in his room that really interested me. A red photo album lay on a desk by his bed, and as I looked in it, I saw pictures of the whole gang. Some of them were funny, and some of them were more serious. The last page in particular surprised me; at the very back of the album was a picture, larger than the rest of them. It was a picture of me, and right in the corner of it was my name, surrounded by a small, red heart.
At first I was not quite sure what to make of it. Ren never seemed to be the type of person who would like hearts, let alone draw them. And why was it around my name? I did not want to just to conclusions, for I knew that, regardless of what it was, I could have different meanings. We were best friends after all, and it was likely that it did not mean what I thought, and hoped, it did.
There was something else on the same desk, and since I knew I had some time left before everyone else came back, I decided to look at it. It was a book, and not just any book, a book of poetry. Ren writes poems? Even I was surprised, because after his dark past and everything, he did not seem like one for anything happy or pretty. Then again, not all poems were happy, and hopefully not all were pretty. But, if I really thought about it, Ren writing poetry made perfect sense. Writing was a great way to express yourself, and everyone knew Ren really needed to do that.
I paged through the book, not expecting the poems to be as good, and well written, as they were. Most of them were based on elements, though not that many were about fire. I would have thought that Ren of all people would be one to write dark, evil poetry, and fire seemed to be the darkest of elements. Most of them were water, though, which was just the opposite of fire. One of the poems really caught my eye, and I could not help but read it.
'The rain may beat down heavy
On broken hearts tossed aside.
And every water drop collected
Symbolizes another tear cried.
The storm outside may topple
Over every shattered pride,
But regardless of whether it's raining or not,
The pain can only double inside.
From the day its heart begins to beat,
Into its mind this is bore:
One must never settle for less,
When one can always get more.
So whether it's a little,
Or al little bit more,
As the saying always goes:
When it rains it pours.'
It seemed so rhythmic; so perfect; so Ren. It was beautiful, just as everything else about Ren was beautiful. He was strong, smart, and even caring when he wanted to be. So, why had I not realized my love for him earlier? Perhaps it took what had happened to him for me to finally think things through properly.
I heard footsteps outside, soon followed by the creak of a door being opened slowly. I knew it was Yoh, or maybe one of the other of my friends that was staying at the Inn. I quickly set down the book of poetry exactly where it had been when I had found it and ran across the hall and back into my own room. Once there, I turned the lock so my door was un-openable from the outside.
I would have to tell them all eventually, but I did not want to at the time. I was not ready. I was not even ready to fully tell myself yet, for I still believed that it was not true.
