Bright Light's Shadow [oneshot]

[ccgensou]

Title: Bright Light's Shadow [oneshot]
Author: ccgensou
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Suicide.
Band: The GazettE
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Summary: Just one, last, perfect day.
Comments: *pulls shoebox over head* You don't know me. *hides*

Bright Light’s Shadow

Every day eventually has to come to an end.

It’s a never-ending cycle that none can halt, so I will have to make due with the time that has been given to me. But it’s alright. It’s alright because what purpose would there be to make efforts to make a day perfect, if the day will continue on and on forever? And I do not want forever.

But for now, the morning light is falling over the bed and its pure, white sheets, weighed down slightly under his sleeping form. The creases in the fabric has gently marked his skin over the night’s passing; faint lines that will be gone soon, for sure. He is Reita. A man of great importance to me. Childhood friend; best friend… We are lovers, him and I. Does that make us sinners? I watch him shift against the pillows - telling me without words that it will not take long until he will wake up, open his eyes and realise that I’m watching him. I don’t mind. Waiting, I mean. I don’t mind waiting like I do, because in a way, I am trying to etch the memory into the deepest of my mind where it will be safe, even though I do not know for what reason. Does a memory still have value when it can no longer be told?

There’s an empty, void feeling within. I seem to be unable to fill it. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried to take a deep breath just to see if air can fill that hollow room, but air has never liked obeying orders, has it. So every time, it just leaves me feeling more vacant even than how I felt before my fruitless efforts.

With a gentle smile, I let my fingertips touch his cheek, then moving to carefully brush away strands of bleached blonde hair falling into his face. What can I do? Nothing. Am I making the wrong decision, is my love for him not strong enough, is he not enough? Though my smile threatens to fail me, I fight to keep it up as I lean in, placing a kiss on his lips before raising the remains of my façade while whispering; “Hey… Time to wake up, Rei-chan.”

_

There was a time when he didn’t love me.

In the beginning, I would walk through each day wishing he was mine. A touch of his hand, a smile, a friendly embrace, a mere moment in his presence was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Because although I tried telling myself that being around him was enough, it always left me screaming for more. Screaming to deaf ears. When he would embrace me, I would breathe in his familiar scent, and one moment I would be experiencing a sort of comfort, a sense of satisfaction, yet in the next… They were such strong urges. The strength of my need to be close to him was so overpowering that it was a miracle each time I managed to chain myself away. I wanted to push him up against a wall, be so close that no nothing would be able to keep us apart, ever again.

It was a slip of my tongue, the way he found out. He had me wrestled to the ground, after another playful brawl that he had won, being the stronger male of the two of us. “Ruki”, he laughed out, holding me down, ”you gave up too easily!” And I remember how the only thing I managed to do was to stare up at him, speechless, breathing heavy, a flush making quick work of colouring my cheeks. It took only a few seconds before his laughter subdued, his smile becoming uncertain as he asked me, “Ruki…? Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

_

The memory makes me involuntarily smile over my cup of coffee.

With the sun washing warmth over my face, I sit on the windowsill in the kitchen, staring down into the cup, observing the faint swirl that my teaspoon is making. It is a beautiful day. Glancing at Reita where he’s sitting at the western style table, I notice that he is watching me, head slightly tilted to the side, as if he’s viewing something he can’t fully comprehend, lips slightly pursed. This is our day. Our perfect day. Can he see what my heart is saying, will he make the memory of us last until his dying days?

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his curious, slightly rasped voice cutting through the silence of the apartment. He’s still drowsy, I know him well enough to be able to tell that he needs at least ten more minutes to fully wake up. It’s the way he is. Some would say that he is walking hand in hand with sleep. Once he’s resting, it’s difficult for him to part from the soothing calmness. Biting back a sigh, I let myself slip down from the windowsill, making my way over to him, not even bothering to ask for permission before making myself comfortable in his lap.

“You”, I answer simply, careful to avoid anything that would convey too much. And I have to hold myself back and bite my tongue not to give in to the sudden impulse telling me to unveil the truth of my mind. Resting my head in the curve of his neck, I sigh, wishing that the weight in my heart would just go away. But how can it, when the reason for it to be there is going to be the undercurrent for the meaning of the whole day?

“What about me?” he asks, as expected of him. A part of him is concerned - I can tell just by the tone of his voice, and the careful way his arm encircle me, holding me. Did I do something that tipped him off? Does he see the way I sway back and forth in the turmoil that my decisions has brought about? I remind myself to take greater care not to show any outward signs of my tainted thoughts. Fingers playing thoughtfully with the hem of the sleeve on his t-shirt, I take a moment to consider his question, trying to choose my words wisely, yet somehow stumbling in the sentence despite my efforts.

“Could you… Do you think you could do me a favour, Reita?”

I know that my voice comes out weird, deep in thought, almost as if a part of me has only just realised something. Realised that he’s told me that he would do anything, for me, if I only asked for it. I feel him shift against me, so I lift my head anxiously, locking eyes with him, searching and pleading. Something within me is breaking, piece by piece falling apart and I can do nothing to stop it. I’m forced to let it happen as he smiles tenderly at me, and I see that familiar trace of shyness in him. The shyness that is (and always has been) holding something back within him.

“Of course”, he says, without even the slightest hint of hesitation. “What do you want?” And it hurts to know that he would do anything. It hurts to know that he only wants to do what is right. It hurts to know how much he’s struggled to make things work between us, hurts to know how many times I’ve made him doubt himself on the way. Perhaps I’m selfish, perhaps I’m everything people tell me I am, I don’t know, maybe my actions will tip the glass over and prove them right. And then what? Is it selfish of me to think that it’s okay, because I won’t be here cleaning up the mess?

I ask of him, “Could we make this day perfect?” It’s such a detached feeling, knowing the future yet not holding it. Part of me is already dead. And I’m sorry, Reita. I’m sorry I cannot tell you why.

“Yeah”, he says with a smile. “We could do that.”

_

How do you explain something you barely know yourself?

When did it begin. I can’t remember anymore, it is as if it has always been a part of me, something growing inside me, until at some point I couldn’t keep it tame anymore, and I broke down. Depression. And the endless feeling that tricks you into believing that you’re being suffocated. I went through all the stages. The crying, the need of constant reassurance, the revolting anger, the denial, the self-isolation, and the numb indifference, everything crashing against and through me like waves. And through it all, Reita was there. By my side. Always.

This all sounds so perfect in theory. But I was a nuisance. Our friendship was put under a lot of pressure. It was falling apart, and no matter how many times I tried to stitch up what was being torn, it didn’t work. After a while, Reita became so… distant. We spent so much time together, yet somehow, I think we both knew that I was sick. And that, it was like, no matter how close we were, there would always be this sort of empty room between us - the knowledge that something in me had changed.

With time, to be aware that I was becoming a burden to the ones I loved was, in itself, a burden for me, too. Add then to this that it did not help at all that it was around that time that I was starting to fall in love with Reita, and therefore became oversensitive to every sign of what he thought about me. However, the part of falling in love went strangely slow, to my mercy. It was as if I was feeling my way through darkness, little by little, taking small steps while blindly following the rhythm of a heart. It is a strange thing, love. And in a way, I think that I was hoping that if the day would come when Reita would love me back, I would be okay. Miraculously healed. Be able to enjoy life. At one point, I really did want to believe it.

But I should have known better. My depression did not have its roots in love or the lack of it, at least not the kind that Reita could give me. When the time came for my wait to end - when he, blushing deeply, told me that he loved me, too, then it was more like… comfort, rather than a path to healing.

_

Could we be a story, he and I?

Or a song. Or perhaps a poem, or anything as familiar and wonderful, because you know it’s so cliché, yet still you smile. Yes, there’s something special about them, and I want that special feeling to reside also in the memory of Reita and me. Taking his hand in mine, I walk closer, looking up at him through the safety of my sunglasses. He knows that I am watching him. I can tell from the way he glances at me, with that smile that’s so carefully affectionate yet so sheepishly shy. We are on our way, walking through the busy morning streets, heading towards our favourite café to savour what will be the day’s second cup of coffee.

It’s a scene as if taken from a book. The people around us pay no attention as they rush by, too involved with their own miserable lives to take in the sight of him and I. Yet there we are. As if the world is just all about us, circling above our heads like… like a vulture. A filthy scavenger, just waiting for dead flesh to eat clean to the very bone. Breaking my illusion. Breathing in deeply, I look up at him again, a smile hiding my already quickly rotting mind as I point out to him that we’re there now, we’re at the café.

Stepping inside, I take in the sight of the by-now familiar, welcoming interior that Reita and I have both come to like so much more than the newer cafés with their rushed feeling. I slip my sunglasses into the small bag I’ve dragged with me, confident that they won’t be needed, and wait no longer before walking up to the young woman patiently waiting behind the cashier. I can’t help feeling as if time is suddenly running away from me, pushing me to do my best to catch up and make good of what is left. Not to mention that slowing down to think has become a painful ordeal, and I cannot afford to lose it in front of Reita. Not now. I don’t want him to remember me for my weakness, and that is my motivation to act as if the only reason Reita and I are doing this, is my sudden impulse to spend a day with my lover.

Getting our coffees and a slice of cake to share, we make our way to a small table in the corner, one with a dusty view out to the street. “Perfect”, is Reita’s only comment at the arrangement as he sits down opposite of me. We share a small smile, and there’s no doubt that he’s remembering my request from the earlier hours of the day. The request for a perfect day.

It is only seconds later that I have to blink in silent embarrassment, my eyes stinging as my thoughts touch fragile ground. The moment’s disorientation leaves me feeling out of place, as if someone‘s snatched me away from reality just to shove me back into it without any given warning. How shameful of me, letting my guard down at such a public place. “Yes”, I breathe out, pushing myself to let my smile linger despite my close failure. “So anyway”, I continue after a while, chasing away those thoughts for later. “Anything happened lately that I’ve missed out on?”

And when Reita starts to talk about some random show on television that I have never even heard of, then somehow, I calm down. Inside me, I envision white bed sheets fall down around me, with pale sunlight making soft shadows play, and I‘m made invisible, safe from the world. Like hide and seek with my emotions. Reita can do so much to me.

But he has no idea.

_

In the beginning we said to each other, we will only be.

Perhaps we were laughing in the face of love, but to label ourselves as something, that was somehow out of the question. We were not supposed to be anything more than best friends, we were not supposed to be. But we were. Yet, even so, the thought of saying it in a specific word was too strange, too… easy to make fun of. Call it denial, but we were not ready to put it in words. So to put it simply, we just knew. And somehow, that was made to be enough.

At least for a start.

But sometimes, an individual needs to be reassured. To have it, black on white. No questions tugging at your sanity, no wondering where and with whom the one you love is spending the hours when not with you. Reita has always had his insecurity shadowing him, too. He wanted to have me, and for me to have no other than him. In that way, it is peculiar, how these things work. But Reita is a possessive man. And I do by no means suggest that it is anything negative, at all. Because just as I have always had my issues, so has he, sucking the life out of him. He became possessive for the simplest of reasons; he was afraid of losing me.

“Ruki, what are we?”

“What we are?”

“I need to know.”

Such a simple question, but with so many answers. Yet with his eyes looking deep into mine, pleading, hungry for that reassurance that only I could give, there was only one answer I could admit, one correct way to reply. That was when we became more. Much more than just two people, existing in the consensus of we will only be.

_

The end is not always remarkable.

As I will most likely learn this very day, an end will never come as you think it will. The question I should ask myself, is that the question of how I will close the last chapter? Or is it the question of how the last chapter will close itself before my very own eyes? Not all things are a matter of choice, even if that is the illusion we often want to surround ourselves with. The most remarkable thing is how unremarkable things can be.

Closer to truth, farther from reality. My mind is flooded, and it is already - but also only - two hours past midday. I’ve lost control of time. A minute feels as long as an hour… but an hour feels as short as a minute is. Is this how it will be? Like a substitute of holding onto control, I hold onto Reita’s hand, hoping that he has more control that I do, hoping that he will lend me his strength to last the day. And one street after another is put behind us but I barely know where we are going. Holding his hand is soon not enough; I move closer, my other hand reaching up to hold his arm. I’m clinging onto him in what could be desperation, but when he glances down at me, I only smile. It’s a sheepish smile hiding discomfort, hiding what should not be seen. Not letting go.

So what if I’m abusing love. The very treachery of my mind will scar him if his love to me is true, but I just want this one day, just give me this one, perfect day.

His voice: “Ruki?”

Softly calling for my attention, he makes me look up from the ground which held my gaze captivated a mere second ago. There is a moment when I’m dreading that he can see what is on my mind, a moment when I instinctively inch closer as if afraid that he’ll push me away. But my eyes find his, and I realise that it’s only me being paranoid. I answer, “Yes?” and hope that the nervous tremor in my voice was not heard over the sound of people talking and cars assaulting the asphalt that has been laid out before them like red carpets, except dark grey.

“I was just…” he starts after a while of silence, yet he’s still hesitating, trailing off as he glances down at me. And then he seems to find his words, but I immediately wish that he wouldn’t have, as the words he speaks claw their way into my heart, so unexpectedly. “I just want you to know that I’m really happy for you.” Seconds pass when I say nothing, seconds through which I do nothing but to watch my step. But then I ask him why, and he gets the embarrassed look of someone who has been caught paying too much attention. “I’ve been kind of watching you lately, because you haven’t really acted like yourself”, he admits, and I can only pray that he can’t feel my pulse suddenly accelerating, with his hand so tightly clasped in mine. “I didn’t say anything, but I was really worried for a while”, he continues, “but now, today, I just… I‘m glad to see you smile again, know what I mean?”

I know. The world is buzzing around me but everything is so still. How could I not know. A black dot being swallowed in a sea of white: colours in my head representing pressuring nausea. I know because it was my intention. The automatic scheme of action is forcing a smile upon my lips. “I‘ve just had a lot to think about, that‘s all”, I explain, and we say no more. But crawling beneath my skin is the constant feeling of being contaminated, a sensation of detachment residing within me, watching my every move, eating me hollow. And to get rid of it I will have to lose it all. The contamination has always been there, but unlike before, I know the cause.

It’s my life.

_

“He’s going to Tokyo? What for?”

“To join some… some band!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that! As his mother you must be devastated. I was so hoping he’d change…”

_

Guilt for the weakest.

His arm around my shoulders, holding me close. Not complaining when I rest my head against his. I catch myself hoping that if there is a moment that is supposed to linger, then this should be it. Despite that most of his attention is directed towards the movie we started watching, I don‘t mind. Because we have done this, watched a random movie from his movie collection, so many times in the past that to do it now seemed like the most natural thing. The cinema was the original suggestion, but how can the cinema compete with the privacy of Reita’s apartment? Yet there’s always the line of guilt. How much am I destroying with my last presence? How much of him am I willing to sacrifice, without even asking for his consent?

I shouldn’t be asking for more, but I am.

“Reita.”

“Yeah?”

“Hold me closer.”

His arms around my waist, holding me closer. Not complaining when I rest my head in the curve of his neck. He is my escape. There’s never questions asked when questions shouldn’t be; in him I have found acceptance. But I’m taking advantage of silence - taking advantage of his trust, because he has faith in me, he believes that I will tell him if something is amiss. Yet now I am drenching us in lies, drowning us in a perfection that will not last. And he believes me. So with what I am about to do, how can I ever hope for his forgiveness? With what I am about to do, what am I doing to him?

“Reita.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be closer.”

His arms holding me safely against him, holding me closer. Not complaining when I crawl up in his lap and rest my head against his chest. Brief kiss against my temple. Being loved. It is his heartbeat that breaks me, the soft pulse bringing me down to a level I have never been to before. It is that which becomes the reason that when I close my eyes, I fail to withhold the forbidden sign of emotion; a single tear, trailing down as guilt is stabbing me. Because what I am doing is wrong.

But love won‘t save a thing.

_

“I’m going to Tokyo, tonight.”

That’s what I said. And it has been so long since that day was, but I can still picture the stunned disbelief on Reita’s face perfectly, as if it was only yesterday and not so many years ago. The moment I left home, I came to him. Nothing but a wreckage with the sound of my parents’ angry voices ringing in my ears, I came to him. Because he knew me. He knew me better than anyone else did. My teenage years were spent doing and undoing illusions, but there was one thing I refused to take as an illusion, and that was him. “So are you coming with me?”

“Tokyo?” he repeated while placing down his bass. The act in itself was like a promise that he would consider this new direction as he should, the act meant that he would not brush it off as an impulse that would fade. In a way, seeing him give me all his undivided attention made relief gush through me despite knowing all too well that I shouldn’t light my hope. “What are you - I mean, where are you…” he started, but became silent with a frown. With my heart beating painfully against my ribcage, I waited for him to get the words right, tried my best to be patient. And at last, “Hypothetically, let’s say I’m coming with you - but then what? Where are we going to stay?”

“Does it matter?” I managed to get out, hopelessly hopeful. Sitting down next to him on his bed, I stared down at my hands playing with a hundred yen coin, trying not to go into pure begging to get him to follow. ”What’s going to change, Reita?” I asked of him, looking up with the deepest of need to know probably written all over my face - a need to know what waiting could possibly bring that would be better than running as fast as we could. “Today or next week or month or… what difference does it make. I’m going, okay? Whether you’re coming with me or not, I’m going.”

But even with those words stating my independence of his decision, the thought of going without him made the corners of my vision turn into a haze. My truth was that I was too afraid to go alone. Reita just didn’t know it. No, because how could he when I was hiding it the best I could. And he started to say, “But we can’t - it’s too… Just think about it, it doesn’t -”

“Reita”, I found myself saying, interrupting him without thinking, my hand turning his head towards me, desperation glowing in my eyes and running through everything I made. “Reita, come on, don’t think so much!” I exclaimed, frustrated and so carelessly wanting for him to abandon everything, abandon his life to go with me and start a new one. One that would belong to us to do as we pleased with, one that would be free of boundaries and void of parents watching our every move. “You want this too, and don’t you dare deny it”, I said, but even with those confident words, my voice alone was a plea for it to be real. “Please, Reita, just don’t… don’t make me go back there.”

There was a place he knew the location for. There was a place where I did not want to be and where he did not want me to be. And even though I knew that my words and my behaviour was becoming manipulative, no amount of shame could change that if it worked, that if he would go with me, then it would all be okay. I could see the way something fell into place within him; I could see something open up and give place for opportunity. It was no surprise to me, anymore. No, not a surprise at all when he stood up from his bed and walked over to his closet, taking out clothes in particularly dark and camouflaging colours.

“My neighbour hides money in his garage - it’s for emergencies”, he said, not looking up as he took out a small flashlight from a box in the corner of the closet. “How much do you think we’ll need?”

_

Little dots of white.

Swirling about, in a sea of black and disoriented pictures, images of something familiar but beyond my understanding. And then, waking up, opening my eyes to see him watching me, as if he is my guardian. I breathe in deeply, deeply as my mind is adjusting to the awake state. “Hey sleepyhead”, he says, a hint of amusement in his tone as he leans in, kissing me. So trusting. So… unknowing it hurts. My eyes close instinctively as I mumble a mock affronted response against his lips before giving in to his warmth. Vaguely do I register that I‘m now lying down on the couch, but still nestled in his embrace like a child seeking love.

Yet, the very next moment I have to break the kiss as my mind snaps, making me blink in confusion as panic snare my mind into the desperation to know how much time I’ve lost. Damage control. “I fell asleep during the movie, didn’t I”, I say, as if to confirm what is already becoming known fact for me. “How long was I asleep?”

The moment the question is asked, there is a look of puzzlement on Reita’s face, a clear warning that I have shown signs of emotions which shouldn’t be on display. Like walking deeper into chilling water I hide my confusion in even more. And there - look, the instant relaxation in him that is brought forth by his trust in me, a boundless faith that is breaking my heart. “Just thirty minutes, or something like that”, he says after a moment of thought, and a mere second later I find myself smiling in genuine relief. And though it may be strange of me to smile so lightly, I do. So much even that Reita is soon eyeing me with amused suspicion as he asks, “What now?”

There’s so much that I could say, so much that I would be able to tell him. But none of it would be enough to say what is truly forbidden, and that, more than anything, makes me the anchor for numerous strange feelings and sensations that I do not want, anymore. Perhaps that is why I only say, “Nothing”, and bring him closer for another kiss. As if it is really nothing. As if I’m not already betraying him by withholding the reality. As if I’m not using his touch, his kiss, to forget, if only for a moment, what I am about to do to him.

Because it‘s breaking me.

_

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Do you really?”

“I trust you.”

_

Staying close to safety.

Staying close to what left there is to stay close to, clinging onto something real, desperately seeking comfort despite that comfort is no longer enough. I’m reluctant to leave. The warmth of his body almost impossibly close to mine, the feeling of security given by his embrace, the calmness his soft breathing brings. Why is it that all good things never last? If this feeling, this moment wouldn’t ever end, then could I stay? I know I can’t. I know that, if a next day dawns and I do not do what I’m meaning to, then the process will only be needed to repeat itself. Endlessly, so endlessly repeat itself, until the day when I do no longer wake up and scream.

There is no way that I can look away from his slumbering form, no way that I can stop listening to his soft breathing, wondering just what he will do with the rest of his life. A long time ago I would have wished for his life to be interlinked with mine, so desperate to be near. But my heart cannot be satisfied, and even though I love him - even though I love him so much it hurts, how can I go on when nothing he does will ever heal what he cannot touch.

“Reita”, I whisper, my voice hoarse and cracking, failing me as I softly kiss the hand that is clasped in mine. “Reita, I’m leaving now.” My words come out choked, and I know that I cannot wake him up - there’s too many questions to answer, too many things he’ll want to know. And I’m too weak, I’m not strong like he is, I cannot stay. “Reita”, I say again, but this time no sound manages to escape my lips anymore. I am broken now. Fingertips trembling, I touch his cheek as I press my lips against his, my vision blurring, my whole being in uproar when I finally pull away, detangling my body from his, ever so gently, ever so careful so that I will not wake him up.

And when I close the door to his bedroom behind me, I fall down on the floor in a heap, mouth open in a silent scream as I gasp for my breath, rocking back and forth in agony as I ask myself why. I ask myself why. I ask myself so many times that even when I already know the answer to each and every question, I ask myself so much that it hurts to think. Hurts to be.

I just keep asking myself why.

_

What would become of me, were I only stronger.

Able to believe in myself enough to have a reason to endure life, able to believe in others enough to embrace actuality. There’s no way that I can give a comprehensive answer, because I truly do not know. There’s only dreams, fragile wishes for a better life, for happiness, for something not as hollow as this something I’m experiencing now. But there’s only so much I can take. And I know that even though I still dream for everything I’ve always dreamt about, I’m approaching a moment when enough is enough, when it simply doesn’t matter anymore, because I can’t go on.

My own apartment is spotless. Tired, puffy red eyes wandering around it, I find calmness in how neat, how perfect it is, and how cold that perfection is. This is what is going to remain of me, but the personal touch is gone - I made sure of that. I have sold everything that I have been able to, everything that I can think of that they won’t need, because I don’t want to burden them anymore, I don’t want to give them any more work cleaning up a mess they are not responsible for. The photographs, letters, memories of the past are all neatly put in boxes, and the boxes neatly hidden in the wardrobe. There is only one, single thing of my life that I have left visible.

In the kitchen, waiting for me on the small table, is a lone photograph of Reita.

It’s nothing spectacular - it’s not even a photograph of great importance, but it’s of him. Just him. Happy and smiling. A tremble courses through me as I carefully pick it up, holding my breath with my lips slightly parted, the whisper of his name caught in my throat. He is my heart. He is the one that I am the most concerned for - the one whose future decisions I fear the most. Taking a shuddering breath, I let the photograph slip out of my hands, let it gently fall back onto the table, my arms circling around my own waist, tightly, tightly - wishing he was there to hold me. To reassure me. To tell me he’ll be okay, tell me he’ll be fine without me.

To tell me he will live.

_

The rope is grazing my neck with a burning dryness.

Strong and unyielding in my hands, I tug at it, testing it without even needing to. I know it will hold. I know so, because I have made sure not to fail this. The room around me is eerily quiet; the muted sound of the city’s pulse of life now being my only source of sound. This is how I wish for it to be, yet not at all. My breathing is shakily uneven as I swallow air with hunger, my hands are grasping the rope as not to tremble, and my vision is lost in a blurry haze because of the tears that I’m trying not to let fall. There’s a pressuring darkness in the corners of my mind - the darkness that has brought me into the situation I am in now, a darkness that is closing in on me, rushing towards me. Whispering to me of the things I would have to endure, the things I’d have to live to feel, if I do not do this. I fear not the end.

Choking on air, I blink and the tears rush down my cheeks, my forced, sudden exhale coming out as a whimper. Reita. There’s always room for trying, but I cannot keep my thoughts from circling around my best friend, my lover to the very end. The perfection is a burning image in my mind, an undying yearning for something so much more than this… this something. Fingertips running over the twined, rough rope, I close my eyes, imagining the feel of it closing around me, the pain, the rush, the light gone out. Swaying slightly on the chair I’m standing upon, I take a deep breath, and then another and then one more; the last finally coming out in a rushed exhale as I step outside the safety zone.

Snap.

_

Please don’t follow me.

_

The end.