029 - [. . . Because, ultimately, this is just how it's always been, right?]
[ He was sick of it. All of it. This island. That stupid mermaid. The harm the always seemed to come to those he cared for most, those that he tried (and failed) to protect. The fact that, really, They were nothing more than toys to those stupid bitches that dwelt somewhere under that deceptively beautiful ocean, that ruled over this deceptively beautiful island. . . and he hated it. Loathed it, even. It appeared as a paradise, but really it wasn't.
He couldn't help but wonder who the hell he pissed off. It always seemed that things never seemed to stay right for him. He took another swig from the wine bottle held in once hand before resting his chin on his knees.
. . . And now they both were gone. Tsuna and Yamamoto. The two he'd thought would always be a constant presence in his life. And he'd searched. He'd searched all over the island. . . and they were nowhere. He felt so alone. Just like before he'd met Tsuna. Like there was no reason for him, no reason at all. . . And suddenly he's laughing - but it's such an odd, empty sound. A sound that just wasn't him. Because he's realized again that he's helpless against it.
It's just the way it's always been, right?
. . . And he couldn't do anything. Not a single thing. They were gone and whether or not they ever returned to him was completely up to fate - and those stupid bitches that lived under those waters. He lazily lifts his head to glare hatefully out at the water. If he knew how to get there. . . where those mermaids lived. . . He would have gone there. And fought with everything he had. . . Even if it, much like everything else he did, would be a hopeless attempt that would inevitably end only in yet another failure.
Just as it's always been.
Another one of those cold laughs as he take another drink.]
". . . God, I fucking hate you. . ."
[ Just exactly who he's speaking to is debatable. Maybe it was those mermaids, himself, this island, Byakuran, hell. . .Maybe he was talking to God himself. (But, not that he really believes in God. Because he doesn't. He tried when he was little. And when he was younger, he thought she was an angel. Her gentle, loving tone. . . the way her fingers flitted over those ivory keys delicately, the beautiful melody otherworldly. . . But then she was taken away. . . And he knew then that if there was a 'God', it certainly wasn't the loving, merciful being they revered in mass.)
. . . And he realizes that maybe there really was something wrong with him., something terribly, irrevocably, wrong with him. . . Maybe he's snapped. Or maybe he's always been this fucked up and he's just been to naive to fully acknowledge it all this time.
Because, really, hasn't it always been this way?
He let the empty bottle drop to the sand, curling in close to himself. He didn't want to be like this. He really didn't. . . It's not anything like the Right Hand Man of the Vongola Decimo that he used to dream about being.
After all, that man couldn't ever be him. That man wouldn't have let any of this happen. That man would be at Tsuna's side at this very moment, smiling and laughing - not this cold, crazed laugh. . .But a real one - bright and cheerful. And the cold, lonely night sky above would be bathed in the warm, beautiful light of fireworks. Everything would be perfect, because that man would be perfect.
But that man isn't real and if it was, it certainly wasn't him. It wasn't this man on the deceptively beautiful beach under the darkened night sky, covered in the mixed scent of wine and cigarettes that was completely and utterly broken.]
[[OOC: After rereading over this. I almost didn't post it. xD . . . But uh. Whatever. The inspiration hit and I had no where else to shove it and Kunpuu!TYL!Dera tends to be my usual victim.. Serious. Therapy. It might be needed.]]
He couldn't help but wonder who the hell he pissed off. It always seemed that things never seemed to stay right for him. He took another swig from the wine bottle held in once hand before resting his chin on his knees.
. . . And now they both were gone. Tsuna and Yamamoto. The two he'd thought would always be a constant presence in his life. And he'd searched. He'd searched all over the island. . . and they were nowhere. He felt so alone. Just like before he'd met Tsuna. Like there was no reason for him, no reason at all. . . And suddenly he's laughing - but it's such an odd, empty sound. A sound that just wasn't him. Because he's realized again that he's helpless against it.
It's just the way it's always been, right?
. . . And he couldn't do anything. Not a single thing. They were gone and whether or not they ever returned to him was completely up to fate - and those stupid bitches that lived under those waters. He lazily lifts his head to glare hatefully out at the water. If he knew how to get there. . . where those mermaids lived. . . He would have gone there. And fought with everything he had. . . Even if it, much like everything else he did, would be a hopeless attempt that would inevitably end only in yet another failure.
Just as it's always been.
Another one of those cold laughs as he take another drink.]
". . . God, I fucking hate you. . ."
[ Just exactly who he's speaking to is debatable. Maybe it was those mermaids, himself, this island, Byakuran, hell. . .Maybe he was talking to God himself. (But, not that he really believes in God. Because he doesn't. He tried when he was little. And when he was younger, he thought she was an angel. Her gentle, loving tone. . . the way her fingers flitted over those ivory keys delicately, the beautiful melody otherworldly. . . But then she was taken away. . . And he knew then that if there was a 'God', it certainly wasn't the loving, merciful being they revered in mass.)
. . . And he realizes that maybe there really was something wrong with him., something terribly, irrevocably, wrong with him. . . Maybe he's snapped. Or maybe he's always been this fucked up and he's just been to naive to fully acknowledge it all this time.
Because, really, hasn't it always been this way?
He let the empty bottle drop to the sand, curling in close to himself. He didn't want to be like this. He really didn't. . . It's not anything like the Right Hand Man of the Vongola Decimo that he used to dream about being.
After all, that man couldn't ever be him. That man wouldn't have let any of this happen. That man would be at Tsuna's side at this very moment, smiling and laughing - not this cold, crazed laugh. . .But a real one - bright and cheerful. And the cold, lonely night sky above would be bathed in the warm, beautiful light of fireworks. Everything would be perfect, because that man would be perfect.
But that man isn't real and if it was, it certainly wasn't him. It wasn't this man on the deceptively beautiful beach under the darkened night sky, covered in the mixed scent of wine and cigarettes that was completely and utterly broken.]
[[OOC: After rereading over this. I almost didn't post it. xD . . . But uh. Whatever. The inspiration hit and I had no where else to shove it and Kunpuu!TYL!Dera tends to be my usual victim.. Serious. Therapy. It might be needed.]]