Hmmmm... Not much I can think of to say at the moment.
The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix.
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(Cid)
I got seriously worried when Vincent didn't show up in class this morning. There was also the problem of only having Yuffie to write notes to. I was fine with that situation, Yuffie being my only source of in-class entertainment, until Vincent came along. I'd discovered that getting a note from Vincent was much more exciting.
Today, I couldn't even be bothered to think of mean things to write in response to Yuffie's messages.
"He's FINE," she wrote. "He'll be back on Monday, pouting & moping just like u r. NOW TALK 2 ME!!!!"
I couldn't help but worry though. What if he'd hurt himself? Or what if he decided to run away? Or... or... something...? I've been thinking the worst all day long.
So now that school's finally out, Reno and I are headed over to Vincent's. I do want to make sure he's okay, and honestly, I miss him.
"Would you boys keep an eye on Vincent for me?" Mrs. Tuesti asks us. "I need to run to the grocery store."
"Yes, ma'am!" we answer and amble up the stairs.
"Heya Vinny! How ya doin'?"
"Shut the door," he demands weakly. "What do you want?" He's wrapped up in the blankets from the nose down. His eyes look tired and... has he been crying?
"Just wanted to see if you were feelin' okay, yo," Reno explains.
"'m fine."
"Ya sure, yo? I mean, no offense, but you don't look so good."
Vincent closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm never gonna be okay. But I hafta be, don't I?"
"What do ya mean, Vince?" I ask, making to sit on his bed.
"I'm not even sure," he mumbles. "I don't even know anymore..."
I reach up to play with his hair, which he tends to find calming, but he quickly hides the rest of himself under the covers. "Don't! Just... fucking don't."
"Vincent, I'm sorry," I apologize, a little scared. He pushes the blankets off - so that's where my sweatshirt is - and sits up. With every movement, he seems to try to keep from wincing. I have to keep reminding myself to not reach up and brush his sleep-tousled hair away from his face. He won't look at me, or Reno, just at the floor. God, he hasn't been like this for a while.
"Cid, I..." he struggles for his words and wipes at his tears with his shaky hands. "I want you to go. Leave me alone."
I gently grasp his hand. "But Vincent--"
"Leave me alone!" he shouts, pulling away from my touch as if I'd burned him. "I don't need either of you anymore. Just go." He pulls his knees to his chest and holds himself, fighting back tears.
"Come on, Cid," Reno says, obviously very let down. "Th' bastard doesn't want us. Guess that means we don't need him either."
So this is my first taste of rejection and it's damn cruel. Worse than I could've imagined, and not at all what I expected from Vincent. It's left me lost for words. There are things I want to say, but they're stuck in my head and they're not coming out any time soon. Not until Reno and I are on our way to his house. But even then, it's not even what I want to say.
"What the fuck? Reno, why did he do that?"
"I dunno, man," Reno sniffs. "That was low. Fucking low."
"Maybe he has a fever. Maybe it's making him not think straight." I try to force positive thoughts on the both of us, but it's pointless. I can still feel the sting of tears threatening to fall no matter what I say. I thought he loved me. I thought Reno and I both made him happy. "Do you think Vince'll change his mind?"
"I dunno, Cidney. We both know he's pretty well fucked up, yo. Maybe he wasn't getting better like we thought he was."
When we get to Reno's house, we find Rude and Reeve playing video games in the family room. "Yo Reeve," Reno starts. "Your too good brother just decided he doesn't need his friends anymore. He told us off, yo, and then sat in his room, crying."
"Well, what did you do to him?" Reeve asks.
"Didn't do shit to him, Reevey. Went over to see if he was feelin' okay and fucken freaked on us."
Reeve sighs and sets down his video game controller. "I guess I'd better get home home then."
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(Vincent)
I am lower than dirt. Worse than scum. An all-around bad person. I feel terrible. I am terrible. And once again, I'm all alone.
But if I don't push them away, they might get hurt. The more alone I am, the less it'll hurt everyone when I go away.
It was so close to spilling out. I wanted to tell them. Maybe it was one of those things that you want to, or have to, say but you're so nervous, your stomach is all twisted, your hands are shaking. Then, okay, on the count of 3, you're going to just blurt it out and get it over with. 1...2...3...take a deep breath and hold it in...4...5...6...7...8...
Well, that fails, but keep counting until the talking just starts. Except I said the absolute opposite of what I wanted to say.
I wanted to let somebody know what I went through yesterday, how much pain I'm in, how I feel so many bad things, yet at the same time, feel absolutely nothing. I wanted to tell them, though the words could never fully describe, how scared I am.
I wanted to stop them from leaving. To make them stay so I could apologize. Wanted them to beat me up for being such a fuck. And to hug me and say that everything's okay. I want to curl up between them and fall asleep and feel safe.
I want it so bad! I hurt so bad for it. My chest is going to collapse, it's so tight. My stomach tangles in knots that will never come untied. My heart's wrung so much, it can't possibly function anymore. God, it hurts! When will I have hurt enough?
I want it to stop. I want to feel. I want to be happy. I want to be normal. I want to be fine. I want it, please...
My fingers twist in my hair and pull. That hurts too, but it's so much better than the complete misery of knowing that I'm alone. That I'm fucked.
Your wants don't seem to matter, Vincent. Not at all. No god to care for you.
My fist beats into the side of my head until I simply can't take it anymore. I let out a groan, a growl through clenched teeth, a sorrowful cry, until there's absolutely no breath left in me, and even then, I still try to scream through it. I hate the salty taste of tears. Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to play a part in this sick world?
And why will nobody leave me alone? I don't want these hands touching me, these arms around me, this calm voice trying to soothe me. Just let me go, in all senses of it, I want to be let go. Forgotten. It'd be so much easier.
"What's wrong, Vincent? What's the matter?"
"It hurts..."
"What hurts, honey?"
"Everything. It all hurts," I sob.
"It's okay, I'm here now. It's okay to cry, sweetie. Just let it all out..."
It's not okay. It can't be. But my words are stuck and lost in my throat. I could never explain it anyway.
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The days creep by at a snail's pace. I can hardly sleep, and when I do, it's never enough.
I think I know what it's like to be dead. I feel dead in every sense, except for this shell of skin, bones, and blood that used to be home to the soul of a boy. The life's been leaking out through its fractured casing, and it shows no signs of stopping. Somehow I'm still breathing, going through the motions, everything's good. But I still only want to lay in bed all day.
"Wake up. Time to get ready for school."
When nobody else is in the room, I go to stand and fall right back on the bed. Guess I stood up too fast. I'm dizzy and the room fades to black quickly. My head feels sort of like it's melting into itself. But the feeling passes and soon things look normal again. It's very, very tempting to crawl back under the blankets. My pillow's reaching out to me, begging me to rest my aching head on it for just a little while longer. I reach back to it, but the cat jumps on it. He's staring like he's telling me to get up.
"What do you want, Cait Sith?" I ask, as if he'll answer. He meows at me. "Can I have a hug?" I hold out my hand. He meows again and comes to me, nuzzling his face against my arm. He purrs as I scratch gently behind his ears and stroke down his back, to the end of his tail. "Thanks, Cait," I kiss his head. "Mrrow," he tells me.
"Come on, slowpoke!" The call comes from downstairs. "Breakfast is almost ready."
Maybe I got dizzy cos I'm hungry. I haven't been able to get much food in me. Then, it becomes an issue of keeping it in me.
"Are you okay?"
I've been asked that question so many damn times the past few days.
"Uh-huh," I nod, never looking the asking party in the eye, hoping I have them convinced. I know what will happen if I were to tell anyone. I don't want to try it.
"You're sure you feel okay?" A caring hand presses against my forehead and determines that there is no fever. "You call me if you need me to come pick you up from class."
I mutter some agreement and manage a few bites of cereal.
A couple days ago, Cid got to school before me and reclaimed his corner seat. The one in the back left next to the wall. I sit two desks over now, and Yuffie's in between us. Cid and I haven't spoken for five days. Same with Reno. It's shit being friendless again, but I keep reminding myself it's for the best.
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Poor Vinny... he talks to cats D :
KaytehKichiKopyKatKakashi - Sorry I forgot to mention you in the last entry : 3 Thanks much for reading & commenting! You're ace : D
So. Unrelatedly... Anybody think solo Danzig does Misfits covers?
TBC, yo!