Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Blank Spaces ❯ Blank Spaces ( Chapter 1 )

 

Space/Blanks*

 

falling

my tears are falling

we're both quiet over the phone

we can't hide the fact that

we're no longer happy

 

what if

I don't want to anymore

where will we be going

even if I try

the tears will still come

don't say that

you don't want to think about it

let's not procrastinate

you're no longer happy

I'm tired, so tired

let's just end this now

 

can't believe

it's ending

it's as if we talked so long

uneasy hearts

it's as if I waited for you all my life

 

goodbye now

goodbye now...

 

 

“So… that's it?”

 

You remain silent. As if I wasn't even there, beside you, holding in my grief, emotions, tears… shattered dreams. Congratulations, Ran, you just burst my bubble. Just two words, you send my world crumbling.

 

“It's over.”

 

And it seems to me you expect me to thank you for it, that I owe it to you to have the balls to be the one to end this. That I should be happy, exulting even, being lessened a burden of you and a dwindling love affair. Was it even love? I don't know. I'll never know. You never did tell me you loved me. And I guess I didn't really love you… but I tried to… I really did try. It was more of affection really, but heck; it's the most that I can come up with. But you? You didn't even try.

 

“You don't even want to try…?”

 

No. no, you shake your head resolutely; face as impassive as the mask you wore those years before I saw the passion underneath. And it ate you, didn't it, that I could make you feel? Well, make you come anyway, every single time. I take pride in that… only a shallow one, though. It's not as if I was the only one to make you come.

 

“It's that girl, isn't it?”

 

Your face shows irritation. Yes, it IS that girl. I can see it in your sudden anger, like you were protecting her from my words. Like I hardly care… yes I do care. Yohji Kudou, discarded, cast aside, for a girl not even attractive enough for me to consider her a rival. I never saw it coming. And here I thought you were the gayer one between the two of us, what being you never have had a relationship with a girl before. But it's different now isn't it? Now, without Kritiker, your chance for a new life comes in a shape of a simple looking human who happens to have the capacity to carry in her your seed, your future children, and your future redeemers: Sins of the father, expiated by pious sons. You really believe that? That their tears and their prayers could wash the taint of black, black sin off your soul? Even if only in the eyes of society, never mind gods? How predictably you.

 

“And I'll just be a dark chapter in your life… or will you even try to remember me?”

 

Sighs. You're tired of the conversation, watching me sink into it like in a quicksand, burying my own grave. I'll be your deepest, darkest secret, won't I? That chink in your armor you'll be forever trying to cover, that weak link that you'll try to mend. Even in memories, I'll be the one fighting to remember… like in our relationship, the only one trying to make it work… always the only one, always alone.

 

“Well, fuck you and your morals, Ran.”

 

Insults don't really rile you, especially cuss words. They're so pedestrian for you; you think it's low to get mad over them. So I can just curse you `till kingdom come, and you won't really give a shit. Like anything I do and will do ever got you to give a shit. Not now, when I'm crying like a schoolgirl getting jilted the first time, varying between pleading and rebuking you, but always, always hurt.

 

I stop thinking about that particular memory. Tears fall on my hands, not really surprising me. Cry it out Yohji, just cry it out. Like every time you felt like crap. Just let it all out. Because running the memory in your mind and twisting and turning it so that it's a different story altogether, won't really make the guilt go away. I was the one who left, not Ran. I was the one who forgot, not Ran. I was the one who replaced him with a woman I thought reminded me of someone, not Ran. He was the one who cried, not me. He was the one who pleaded, not me. I was the one who lied. And even if I place myself in his shoes on that particular day, I still can't forgive myself, even if I know he already did. He told me so himself, two days ago in a chance encounter. He looked so lovely… he always look lovely… even when he cries. But he didn't cry two days ago. He just patted me on the back, and walked away. Away.

 

“Daddy, are you crying?”

 

Shit. When did this kid get so perceptive? I wipe it away, laughing, pretending to have remembered the day his granny died, covering up the truth that his father still loved another man with flaming red hair and lavender eyes that looked lovely, always, even when he cried.

 

 

 

 

 

a/n: a really barok and literal translation of Cambio's “Patlang” into English from original Filipino lyrics. The bold letters, when read as a whole, has an entirely different meaning from the whole story… albeit it's a bit forced, and won't really make sense the first time… and the second… third… well, what the heck, I got carried away with the bold button. Great break up song, by the way. Short fic, basically blabber. Review, if you like to, that is.