Sad!Drabble
Title: Untitled
Author: Jade
Word Count: Quick drabble, estimating 500+ words?
Rating: G
Notes: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi, Inspired by clinck and monarchist and their epicness =)
Um, crappy drabble is crappy. Makes little sense. Death. Continuity problems. Unedited. Yep.
Tezuka is not one to cry. Because like every Tezuka, he has been taught by his father not to cry. But like every Tezuka, there comes a time when tears are there, but not nearly enough. He remembers when Echizen was there to hold him to reality. But now, that reality is living day-to-day without Echizen. Love has brought on more illusions than he thought possible. He has locked himself in a bathroom. The tears fall and his hands are curled into such tight fists that his knuckles are white. Tezuka tries to fight himself. Tries to forget everything that is wrong, and think about everything that is right. He tries not to think about how life is made of stupid and complicated choices, he tries to move on from his past. He tries not to think about his decisions. But most of all, he tries not to figure out the difference between what is easy, and what is right.
Emotion wells up inside him and he tries to force it all down. Sometimes he feels like he has gathered all of the regret of the people around him and collected it within himself. Perhaps he has. Perhaps he has collected the lack of will to do anything except to find a way out, now that no one else is here with him. Echizen once told him the best way out is always through, but by going through you have to make selections. Tezuka isn’t sure he is capable of that right now. He has made enough poor choices already. They will haunt him forever, for they always have - the dull ache of regret thuds through his arm. The twinge in his heart of a love he no longer has. The throbbing temptation to join him. He has not missed this question. It appears more often that he would like.
What he wants to do is find a way to save himself. Tezuka does not want to die. To some, he is just a sacrifice. He doesn’t want to be one. He doesn’t want his friends or family to die either. But he has no control over anything anymore. It’s almost as if he can’t even control himself. He can’t keep himself so aloof, but he has to. There is no choice, or at least, no easy choice. He listens to people around him hoping they are more sincere than they look. What is the truth? No one knows. Even the enemy of his enemy is not his friend.
No one can tell him where his loyalties lie. The sense of a purpose in life is long gone. He doesn’t know what to believe, who to believe, or if he should believe anything at all. He is not loyal to anyone, not even himself. And it is when he realizes this that he leaves the washroom with forceful strides and slams the front door behind him. It is difficult now, with the tears blurring his vision. Tezuka steps outside for the fresh air and the cold that whips against his face but also clears his mind. Besides, the cold does not feel any colder than his heart right now. It seems to beat slower and slower with every step. According to the whispers in his mind, the whispers that surround him, death is not a painful experience - not as painful as self-hatred or resent. Not as painful as all his regrets. Not as painful as living each moment, remembering the life that disappeared should have been his.
Today he is alive. Tezuka is more alive than he has been his entire life. The soft silence of darkness approaches him as the wind whispers his name; Ryoma. The lights of the cars on the road blind his eyes and the honking of a horn is the last thing he hears. Every day, the sky opens up to a promise of death.
Author: Jade
Word Count: Quick drabble, estimating 500+ words?
Rating: G
Notes: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi, Inspired by clinck and monarchist and their epicness =)
Um, crappy drabble is crappy. Makes little sense. Death. Continuity problems. Unedited. Yep.
Tezuka is not one to cry. Because like every Tezuka, he has been taught by his father not to cry. But like every Tezuka, there comes a time when tears are there, but not nearly enough. He remembers when Echizen was there to hold him to reality. But now, that reality is living day-to-day without Echizen. Love has brought on more illusions than he thought possible. He has locked himself in a bathroom. The tears fall and his hands are curled into such tight fists that his knuckles are white. Tezuka tries to fight himself. Tries to forget everything that is wrong, and think about everything that is right. He tries not to think about how life is made of stupid and complicated choices, he tries to move on from his past. He tries not to think about his decisions. But most of all, he tries not to figure out the difference between what is easy, and what is right.
Emotion wells up inside him and he tries to force it all down. Sometimes he feels like he has gathered all of the regret of the people around him and collected it within himself. Perhaps he has. Perhaps he has collected the lack of will to do anything except to find a way out, now that no one else is here with him. Echizen once told him the best way out is always through, but by going through you have to make selections. Tezuka isn’t sure he is capable of that right now. He has made enough poor choices already. They will haunt him forever, for they always have - the dull ache of regret thuds through his arm. The twinge in his heart of a love he no longer has. The throbbing temptation to join him. He has not missed this question. It appears more often that he would like.
What he wants to do is find a way to save himself. Tezuka does not want to die. To some, he is just a sacrifice. He doesn’t want to be one. He doesn’t want his friends or family to die either. But he has no control over anything anymore. It’s almost as if he can’t even control himself. He can’t keep himself so aloof, but he has to. There is no choice, or at least, no easy choice. He listens to people around him hoping they are more sincere than they look. What is the truth? No one knows. Even the enemy of his enemy is not his friend.
No one can tell him where his loyalties lie. The sense of a purpose in life is long gone. He doesn’t know what to believe, who to believe, or if he should believe anything at all. He is not loyal to anyone, not even himself. And it is when he realizes this that he leaves the washroom with forceful strides and slams the front door behind him. It is difficult now, with the tears blurring his vision. Tezuka steps outside for the fresh air and the cold that whips against his face but also clears his mind. Besides, the cold does not feel any colder than his heart right now. It seems to beat slower and slower with every step. According to the whispers in his mind, the whispers that surround him, death is not a painful experience - not as painful as self-hatred or resent. Not as painful as all his regrets. Not as painful as living each moment, remembering the life that disappeared should have been his.
Today he is alive. Tezuka is more alive than he has been his entire life. The soft silence of darkness approaches him as the wind whispers his name; Ryoma. The lights of the cars on the road blind his eyes and the honking of a horn is the last thing he hears. Every day, the sky opens up to a promise of death.