Yuffie/Vincent- Did Not, Could Not
Title: Did Not, Could Not
Author: butterflys_fics
Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII or it's characters
Pairing: Vincent Valentine/Yuffie Kisaragi
Theme: U is for ugly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 557
Sometimes the way she felt about herself hurt him. He never said anything- of course- but would watch her as she stood naked examining herself in the mirror always finding something wrong with the way she looked. He never understood it. In his mind she was absolutely beautiful, but she never seemed to take his opinion to heart and would look at herself with open disgust.
It hurt him to watch her- his frail, fragile love- cry at night wondering why she wasn’t beautiful or smart or elegant or graceful- all the things she thought she should be and wasn’t. And even though he would kiss her thoughtless for a while the next day things would go back to normal and she would hate herself once more. No matter how many times he told her she was beautiful, told her that he loved her, she thought herself horrid and unworthy of even a second of his touch. She was afraid of his love, afraid she didn’t deserve it, afraid he would come to his senses and leave her empty and alone.
It ripped him apart inside that she didn’t realize that she had saved him. Her beauty, her light, her very presence had brought him back from his dark world. He was the horrid one, he was the one who wasn’t worthy of love or warmth. Not her, never her. She just didn’t see it, couldn’t understand it.
Both of them saw a disgusting abomination when they looked at themselves in the mirror. Neither felt worthy of any compassion or love. They felt guilty when they kissed the other, thought they were taking away from those who did deserve the love of the person they loved. They were destroying the other person with every kiss, every touch, every time they made love. They would feel loved and whole for that short period of time and afterwards would wrap themselves up in their own sorrow and wish they were different and worthy and neither understood that to the other person they were beautiful and worthy. Always beautiful, always worthy.
They were each other’s greatest pain but they were also each other’s greatest loves. They were each other’s worlds. They were each other’s saviors. Everything they were was because of the other. They saved each other, wrapped each other up in warmth and comfort and never once did they realize that. They were too afraid of seeing that monster looking back at them that they never looked into the other’s eyes- if they had they would have seen love and not disgust.
So they watched each other suffer while they suffered too. How could they comfort each other when they were monsters and demons and evil and sorrow and heartache? How could they be comfort for someone else when they could not be comfort for themselves? Where was the sense in that? There was none, that’s it.
So he would kiss her blind and he would kiss her stupid and they would make love in the moonlight to feel whole and perfect and beautiful and worthy and ignore their own pain for that short amount of time. In those moments they would see themselves as beautiful and pure: then they would look in the mirror and that illusion would shatter and they would be broken and horrid once more.
Author: butterflys_fics
Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII or it's characters
Pairing: Vincent Valentine/Yuffie Kisaragi
Theme: U is for ugly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 557
Sometimes the way she felt about herself hurt him. He never said anything- of course- but would watch her as she stood naked examining herself in the mirror always finding something wrong with the way she looked. He never understood it. In his mind she was absolutely beautiful, but she never seemed to take his opinion to heart and would look at herself with open disgust.
It hurt him to watch her- his frail, fragile love- cry at night wondering why she wasn’t beautiful or smart or elegant or graceful- all the things she thought she should be and wasn’t. And even though he would kiss her thoughtless for a while the next day things would go back to normal and she would hate herself once more. No matter how many times he told her she was beautiful, told her that he loved her, she thought herself horrid and unworthy of even a second of his touch. She was afraid of his love, afraid she didn’t deserve it, afraid he would come to his senses and leave her empty and alone.
It ripped him apart inside that she didn’t realize that she had saved him. Her beauty, her light, her very presence had brought him back from his dark world. He was the horrid one, he was the one who wasn’t worthy of love or warmth. Not her, never her. She just didn’t see it, couldn’t understand it.
Both of them saw a disgusting abomination when they looked at themselves in the mirror. Neither felt worthy of any compassion or love. They felt guilty when they kissed the other, thought they were taking away from those who did deserve the love of the person they loved. They were destroying the other person with every kiss, every touch, every time they made love. They would feel loved and whole for that short period of time and afterwards would wrap themselves up in their own sorrow and wish they were different and worthy and neither understood that to the other person they were beautiful and worthy. Always beautiful, always worthy.
They were each other’s greatest pain but they were also each other’s greatest loves. They were each other’s worlds. They were each other’s saviors. Everything they were was because of the other. They saved each other, wrapped each other up in warmth and comfort and never once did they realize that. They were too afraid of seeing that monster looking back at them that they never looked into the other’s eyes- if they had they would have seen love and not disgust.
So they watched each other suffer while they suffered too. How could they comfort each other when they were monsters and demons and evil and sorrow and heartache? How could they be comfort for someone else when they could not be comfort for themselves? Where was the sense in that? There was none, that’s it.
So he would kiss her blind and he would kiss her stupid and they would make love in the moonlight to feel whole and perfect and beautiful and worthy and ignore their own pain for that short amount of time. In those moments they would see themselves as beautiful and pure: then they would look in the mirror and that illusion would shatter and they would be broken and horrid once more.