Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ Injury ❯ Kai angsts ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Injury

Author: Kameko-chan

Pairings: Kai/Rei

Warnings: Dark. Suicidal thoughts. Weirdness in general.

Notes: This is the rewritten version of this fic, the first was shorter and not posted here. Enkeli from the KaixRei ML said she wanted to see the relationship of this fic discussed further, so I decided to do a bit of rewriting and try to delve a bit deeper into it ^_^; I could have gone further, but I rather like it the length it is now.

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Injury. That's the best way to describe our relationship. One never-ending stream of injury.

Maybe at one point he loved me. Or thought he did, at least. I can remember back when we were first together, how we'd hold each other and share our innermost thoughts in secretive whispers. We'd do the most clichéd things in existence, like staying up to watch the sunrise or going for moonlit walks. Sometimes he'd make up a little song for me on the spot, or I'd quote something obscure and romantic from a novel that I'd read god-knows-when. It was all so sickeningly sweet, and I loved it, relished in it even. I thought it'd last forever.

He was warm back then. His lightest touch lifted my heart and soul and made me believe that all was right with the world. I'd hold him and it would make me feel safe. I felt that as long as I had him, this person who was so precious to me, that I was invincible, nothing could harm me. He was everything.

But that time is long gone. Now our moments are filled with empty touches, vacant stares, and silence. Always that silence, the silence so loud it screams in my ears and tears at my soul. Every moment of it is agony.

I should go. I know I should. Every bit of sanity within me screams to leave him behind, to escape before the suffocating quiet kills me. Get out, it tells me. Leave him, it whispers. And I want to, I really do. I hate staying here with this empty doll in this cage of meaningless routine. But something else inside me makes me stay. Every time I think I've finally worked up the nerve to leave, it draws me back like a moth to a flame. I never learn. I keep coming back. And just like that doomed little moth, I get burned every time.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. After I told him how I felt and he said he returned the feelings, we were supposed to live happily ever after. I'd spent my days dreaming of all the things we would do together, envisioning a lifetime of rainy afternoons and warm summer evenings. I saw us grow old together, I imagined strolling down the street arm in arm, completely happy and in love. When he said he felt the same, I thought happiness had finally found me.

However, in real life there's no such thing as happily ever after, not for me at least. I barely noticed as our relationship disintegrated. At first, it was just an argument here, a night spent on the couch there, little stuff like that. Then the little gestures like goodbye kisses and reassuring smiles began to occur less and less. When I held him, he no longer felt warm and inviting, but cold, like stone.

Then came the silence. That, more than anything else, more than the absent displays of affection or decidedly frigid attitude, hurt like hell. I missed talking with him; I missed knowing what was going on in his mind. I wanted him to tell me something, anything; how his day went, if he found something amusing or annoying or intriguing, I'd have even settled for a grocery list, for Christ's sake! But there was nothing, nothing but realization on my part.

The love was gone.

So then why are we still here, three years later? What keeps us both from turning around and walking out the door, from moving on with our lives and finding people who can truly make us happy, who can love us forever and for always and whom we can love in return? Despite living in the same house and sharing a bed every night, we're perfect strangers. There's nothing left for either of us here.

I know why I haven't. I know exactly why I haven't. Because even though he's left my heart and soul in tatters, I still love him. I love him so much it hurts. I love him to the point of madness. I love him with such blind devotion that he can use me, abuse me, hurt me, and I'll still love him. Love's funny like that, you know. It can strike you so hard and fast that you'll never get over it, and you'll do anything for it. It can shackle you in place and leave your soul in pieces, and all you'll do is beg for more.

Why doesn't he just leave? If he were gone, it would be done with. It would finally be over, I could let go and move on. I can't leave, he knows I can't and never will. But he won't go. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. I don't know why, but he won't leave either. I don't think he can. Maybe he still loves me too. Maybe he just can't show it anymore. It's a futile, desperate hope, I realize, but it's the only thing that keeps me going. If the love is still there, somewhere buried beneath the surface, maybe I can resurrect it. I cling to the hope that one day we'll go back to the warm touches and whispered conversations and clichéd romantic outings.

In my heart, though, I know that this will never happen. I don't know why he stopped loving me, but I know he has. The love is never going to return.

With these thoughts, with a constant throb of pain in my heart, the lure of sharpened steel has become more and more difficult to resist. Every time I make dinner or use a pair of scissors or even shave, all I can think about is how easy it would be to end it. A quick meeting of metal and flesh, a warm rush of blood, and I'll be free of this madness. I'll finally be released from the pain. Blessedly free.

Often I'll even press the instruments against my wrist, on the edge, always so close to going through with it but always pulling back at the last second. It's my last option, after all, my final way out.

Rei...

Please release me. Let me go. You can't keep this phoenix caged.

You hold the key, but I can pick the lock.

~FIN~

Weirdest thing I have EVER written.