Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takashi. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Short Shrift
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Chapter Three: Contradiction
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He scoffs at the idea of love.
What a worthless pursuit—an idiotic waste of time! To watch his brother follow the human female, the indecent one, to protect her at every turn. Bound to her by his emotions. His blood boils in his veins at the sight of it, the disgust sickens him from the core.
This idea of love.
How he hated the word, the philosophies, the poems, the romance that was birthed from the imaginations of lonely hearts! He was above that. Most certainly he was, for he is able to rise above the rest. No need to bother to find love nor someone to care for him. He could manage on his own. He has managed all this time.
Yet he sits in the silence of the night allowing the calm to engulf and penetrate his person. Feeling the peace ring hallow within him. The loneliness beats audibly in his chest and he pushes it away, deep so that he could muffle it but he fails.
The tightening follows.
Who ever said the heartless no longer feel? In his mind, he wraps his elegant clawed fingers tightly around his last memories of the warmth that now chills him. He longs to find it once more. Though he is afraid that he is no longer capable. So long unused, he fears his heart has lost its capacity to accept and hold dear the smiles and the good intentions.
His eyes burn from the effort. Holding the tears that would course down his ethereal face, tearing open the scars of a time he refuses to revisit, yet returns to him every night. The battle he fights is not fought with weapons or claws. The battle he fights rages fierce everyday. The battle he fights is lost and waged once more for his enemy is formidable.
Who ever said that the strong do not fall?
Who ever said he was strong?
Fools, they were!
If only they knew the rawness he feels. Juxtaposed by the cold exterior, seeming hard as stone, one does not seek to to scratch the surface to watch him bleed from the shell marred by countless scars—pieced together by imperfection. That was what he was.
Her face invades his painful calm. How he wished to see her again—to watch the effortless stride, the careless laugh, the hidden tears. He wonders if she will know, if she will understand for now he realizes that they were the same.
His imagination projects her endless, sad eyes onto the melancholy dark night.
He scoffs at the idea of hope.
What a worthless pursuit—an idiotic waste of time! To allow himself to follow a human female, cherishing every movement. Bound to her by his loneliness and her pain. His blood boils in his veins, the disgust sickens him to the core.
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A/N: I know I've been on M.I.A. for a while but I've been busy with the new school year starting. I swear that I will pick up my writing again but maybe at a slower pace than before. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!