The Many Ways of Saying "I Love You" / Part I: Never Sooner than Later / AoiXRuki
The Many Ways of Saying "I Love You" - Part I
Title: Never Sooner than Later
Chapter: 1/1
Author:
akichuu
Pairing: AoiXRuki
Rating: PG-15
Genre: Angst
Warning: Probable character death
Summary: I waited and waited for the right moment, but I suppose every single minute had been the right moment, hadn't it? I've had all the chances that I could get to tell him, but yet... I didn't.
Comments: Basically it's a little challenge I did to myself in which I should find the most unusual situations where a person felt the need to convey that (probably?) most sacred kind of feeling towards another person. This takes form as several one-shots, each has its own theme and/or pairing so even if I write 'part I, part II, etc' on the grand title, they're not related to one another. The title for each part will suck big time because... well just because I always suck at making titles for most of my fics... XDDDD
For this first part, if you read the warning section you should expect something far too angsty... well, you know it's always good to be prepared *runs*
===
Never Sooner than Later
Funny, when I try to think about the many events that have taken place through out my life, nothing, absolutely nothing can be made as an analogy to what I'm going through right now. Or maybe not so funny at all, because there really is no other experience that is similar to this, and it's useless to even try to think about any. But why am I even thinking about finding an analogy? I suppose, logically, I should be screaming or crying or muttering prayers under my breath, just like what these people around me are doing at the moment-their voices are deafening my ears. But when I try to find the reason to do the same thing as they are doing, I can't discover any. Is there any point in screaming until your voice runs out or praying to whatever deities to help you when you know it's useless?
The lights blink madly above my head and the speaker is letting out a somewhat panicked voice of the Captain, ironically telling people not to panic. I can barely understand a word; the screamings drown everything else. The woman that is sitting right across the alley at my right side is half-sobbing, half-chanting a sentence that sounds like "this is just a dream" repeatedly, many, many times; it's as if by doing so she's going to make everything a dream, just the way she wants it to be. But it's impossible, unless she knows how to perform some kind of witchcraft or something alike to stop a disaster from occurring.
There's a sound of a baby screaming from somewhere behind me. But I don't want to look back and check where it comes from exactly; I guess-no, I'm pretty certain that I'm too scared to face the bitter truth, just like that woman on my right.
I suddenly think about some TV show I've seen a while ago; it was about near-death experiences and the thing that I can remember from it is that, most of the cases where a person went through the mentioned experience, they would see their whole lives flashing by in front of their eyes. I sit here, both hands clutching at the arm rest on both my sides, quietly wondering when I will be seeing the moment my mother took me to a walk in the park, or my first day at school, or the smiling faces of all my high school friends, or my first love... Nothing really comes up. Nothing but the last time I saw my family; my mother was smiling at me and hugged me before she told me to take care of myself, just like she used to do every time I had to go away.
There's something stabbing through my chest at the memory, so I try not to think about it any further. But it slips into my realization anyways that that hug might be the last one I had from her. It hurts to know that.
As I struggle to get rid of the images of my family from my brain, some other images take place instead, and I'm not saying that these are less painful to deal with. Is this what a person must go through before their lives pass away from them: watching the images of the people they love in their minds? If so, then fate is cruel indeed.
My breath catches up in my throat as I see some familiar faces, the faces with which I've gone through the latest, most extravagant part of my life. Everyone who has been with me from the very start of this amazing journey, everyone who has been there and fought alongside me through thick and thin until we've reached the stage that was once only a dream for all of us. Everyone that I think has become just as important as my family-or rather, they have become my family, nothing less.
I shut my eyes, knowing that everyone is actually around me right now. If I open my eyes I'll have to see them and then I'll have to accept the hardest reality ever that this might be the last time I'll be seeing them-and that hurts. That hurts so bad. And I don't want to see the fear in their faces, I don't want to have to face separation... although that is exactly what we're going through right now, inevitably, as second after second ticks pass me in a chaotic vibration.
More importantly, I don't want to see him. Oh please, not him. My heart trembles at the thought that I can never see him again-to think about heaven or hell and which one of those places I'll be heading to once the whole thing is over, I know I can't choose and neither can anyone. There's always a possibility that I'll be going alone to somewhere dark and hostile and there won't be anyone I know there and that's... that's scary. But if I can only be with him... just him... Even hell will feel like a luke warm beach at summer and I'll be content there, holding his hand if he lets me.
Suffocated, I suddenly realize about the so many things I haven't had the chance to do or say to him. God if only I never hesitated, if only I could be wiser, if only I thought about something like this happening and ruining everything in the shortest instant... I would've told him how I felt. I would've just gone to him and spilled everything out of my heart. I wouldn't have wasted one single second being indesicive to express my feelings. It doesn't matter if he didn't reply, if he thought I was weird, because what's important was that I could tell him... But I didn't. I never did. Before we made this trip abroad, I always thought that I would get the chance, some time, some day; I waited and waited for the right moment, but I suppose every single minute had been the right moment, hadn't it? I've had all the chances that I could get to tell him, but yet... I didn't.
I'm so stupid.
Now... How much longer do I have until I've run out of minutes, seconds? How long until there isn't any breath left in my lungs to convey what I feel for him?
And he's not far... he's never far, now that I think of it. He's never been too far away that I could just grab him and whisper to his ears that... God! Why have I never done that?!
Everything shakes around me, I open my eyes in half-shock, half-frightened. Along with the pop of airbags from the ceiling, the screamings go up notch again; it's all going more and more chaotic. I don't have much time left, and as much as I wish for an extra minute, I can't have any.
It's all that I've got to do, no matter how much it makes me afraid and uncomfortable: I turn my face to my left. And with a pause on my heartbeat, there I find him, looking oddly calm and composed. He has his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted; the only hint of frustration being his wrinkled forehead. His hands are clutching at the armrest, just like mine are. If anything, he looks like the most sane view I have ever seen in this whole blended mixture of chaos and panic.
Why, even in a moment like this, do I keep thinking that he's so beautiful?
He is. He has those wonderful, smart eyes that I could spend hours looking at, and he has those tantalizingly pouty lips which, I believe, have transfixed millions of people to bend on their knees in front of him. He has the most perfect skin color and I know it's not just me when I say he radiates such a soothing glow. He is, probably, the prettiest person I know... and when he smiled at me, I just went crazy.
The day I realized that he was more important than everyone else around me, I knew I'd be spending most of my time thinking about him-and that was exactly what I did: I kept on thinking about him, every single day. I woke up in the morning with butterflies fluttering in my stomach because I knew I'd be seeing him at work, and at night I smiled before I went to sleep because I knew I'd be dreaming about him. He has become my prior necessity lately, even if it was only in the form of someone I had to look at to keep my mood up and my spirit high and running.
More violent shaking and my heart races into utter panic.
Just one minute, God... I regret that I've hesitated all this time, so just give me this one more minute.
Quickly I reach for his hand that is the nearest to me, and I hold it tight in my grasp. My action makes him open his eyes and when they meet mine, I finally can see that he's just as scared as I am, even though I thought he didn't look so. He clutches back at my hand, partially quivering, as if he's holding some kind of a great wave from flooding out of him. I wish I can tell him that it's all going to be alright, and that this will all be over in just a minute, but I don't want to lie to him. It's the last thing I want, seeing him sad or troubled, but the only consolation that I can offer him is this: the knowledge that he's not alone, that he's never alone, not even in the deepest and darkest and scariest moment of his life. I'm always here for him, just like I've always been by his side all along.
Painfully, my voice comes out through my tightened throat, and I know this might just be the last thing I am ever going to say to anyone. But I suppose it's worth it.
"I love you, Ruki."
For a second he looks as if he didn't just hear what I said-and I guess that's reasonable, thinking about the situation around us, how hectic things are. But then I can feel him clutching at my hand tighter than before. And then I see the glint of tears making their way down his cheeks and the movement of his lips as he begins to reply, but I never really get to see or hear what he says. It is when the lights completely go off and the screaming peaks and the world tilts 90 degrees downward...
===
* A/N: Okay. You can kill me now. \(@___@)/
I'm sorry to have to come up with such a depressing story but I guess my brain is just made up of that odd, odd mixture of unhealthy humor and suicidal thoughts... No, J/K :P
Well, that's part I for you. I hope I can make you less upset at me (is that possible??) by telling you that part II is a whole lot more cheerful kind of a story than this...
Many other great stories here
Title: Never Sooner than Later
Chapter: 1/1
Author:
akichuu
Pairing: AoiXRuki
Rating: PG-15
Genre: Angst
Warning: Probable character death
Summary: I waited and waited for the right moment, but I suppose every single minute had been the right moment, hadn't it? I've had all the chances that I could get to tell him, but yet... I didn't.
Comments: Basically it's a little challenge I did to myself in which I should find the most unusual situations where a person felt the need to convey that (probably?) most sacred kind of feeling towards another person. This takes form as several one-shots, each has its own theme and/or pairing so even if I write 'part I, part II, etc' on the grand title, they're not related to one another. The title for each part will suck big time because... well just because I always suck at making titles for most of my fics... XDDDD
For this first part, if you read the warning section you should expect something far too angsty... well, you know it's always good to be prepared *runs*
===
Never Sooner than Later
Funny, when I try to think about the many events that have taken place through out my life, nothing, absolutely nothing can be made as an analogy to what I'm going through right now. Or maybe not so funny at all, because there really is no other experience that is similar to this, and it's useless to even try to think about any. But why am I even thinking about finding an analogy? I suppose, logically, I should be screaming or crying or muttering prayers under my breath, just like what these people around me are doing at the moment-their voices are deafening my ears. But when I try to find the reason to do the same thing as they are doing, I can't discover any. Is there any point in screaming until your voice runs out or praying to whatever deities to help you when you know it's useless?
The lights blink madly above my head and the speaker is letting out a somewhat panicked voice of the Captain, ironically telling people not to panic. I can barely understand a word; the screamings drown everything else. The woman that is sitting right across the alley at my right side is half-sobbing, half-chanting a sentence that sounds like "this is just a dream" repeatedly, many, many times; it's as if by doing so she's going to make everything a dream, just the way she wants it to be. But it's impossible, unless she knows how to perform some kind of witchcraft or something alike to stop a disaster from occurring.
There's a sound of a baby screaming from somewhere behind me. But I don't want to look back and check where it comes from exactly; I guess-no, I'm pretty certain that I'm too scared to face the bitter truth, just like that woman on my right.
I suddenly think about some TV show I've seen a while ago; it was about near-death experiences and the thing that I can remember from it is that, most of the cases where a person went through the mentioned experience, they would see their whole lives flashing by in front of their eyes. I sit here, both hands clutching at the arm rest on both my sides, quietly wondering when I will be seeing the moment my mother took me to a walk in the park, or my first day at school, or the smiling faces of all my high school friends, or my first love... Nothing really comes up. Nothing but the last time I saw my family; my mother was smiling at me and hugged me before she told me to take care of myself, just like she used to do every time I had to go away.
There's something stabbing through my chest at the memory, so I try not to think about it any further. But it slips into my realization anyways that that hug might be the last one I had from her. It hurts to know that.
As I struggle to get rid of the images of my family from my brain, some other images take place instead, and I'm not saying that these are less painful to deal with. Is this what a person must go through before their lives pass away from them: watching the images of the people they love in their minds? If so, then fate is cruel indeed.
My breath catches up in my throat as I see some familiar faces, the faces with which I've gone through the latest, most extravagant part of my life. Everyone who has been with me from the very start of this amazing journey, everyone who has been there and fought alongside me through thick and thin until we've reached the stage that was once only a dream for all of us. Everyone that I think has become just as important as my family-or rather, they have become my family, nothing less.
I shut my eyes, knowing that everyone is actually around me right now. If I open my eyes I'll have to see them and then I'll have to accept the hardest reality ever that this might be the last time I'll be seeing them-and that hurts. That hurts so bad. And I don't want to see the fear in their faces, I don't want to have to face separation... although that is exactly what we're going through right now, inevitably, as second after second ticks pass me in a chaotic vibration.
More importantly, I don't want to see him. Oh please, not him. My heart trembles at the thought that I can never see him again-to think about heaven or hell and which one of those places I'll be heading to once the whole thing is over, I know I can't choose and neither can anyone. There's always a possibility that I'll be going alone to somewhere dark and hostile and there won't be anyone I know there and that's... that's scary. But if I can only be with him... just him... Even hell will feel like a luke warm beach at summer and I'll be content there, holding his hand if he lets me.
Suffocated, I suddenly realize about the so many things I haven't had the chance to do or say to him. God if only I never hesitated, if only I could be wiser, if only I thought about something like this happening and ruining everything in the shortest instant... I would've told him how I felt. I would've just gone to him and spilled everything out of my heart. I wouldn't have wasted one single second being indesicive to express my feelings. It doesn't matter if he didn't reply, if he thought I was weird, because what's important was that I could tell him... But I didn't. I never did. Before we made this trip abroad, I always thought that I would get the chance, some time, some day; I waited and waited for the right moment, but I suppose every single minute had been the right moment, hadn't it? I've had all the chances that I could get to tell him, but yet... I didn't.
I'm so stupid.
Now... How much longer do I have until I've run out of minutes, seconds? How long until there isn't any breath left in my lungs to convey what I feel for him?
And he's not far... he's never far, now that I think of it. He's never been too far away that I could just grab him and whisper to his ears that... God! Why have I never done that?!
Everything shakes around me, I open my eyes in half-shock, half-frightened. Along with the pop of airbags from the ceiling, the screamings go up notch again; it's all going more and more chaotic. I don't have much time left, and as much as I wish for an extra minute, I can't have any.
It's all that I've got to do, no matter how much it makes me afraid and uncomfortable: I turn my face to my left. And with a pause on my heartbeat, there I find him, looking oddly calm and composed. He has his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted; the only hint of frustration being his wrinkled forehead. His hands are clutching at the armrest, just like mine are. If anything, he looks like the most sane view I have ever seen in this whole blended mixture of chaos and panic.
Why, even in a moment like this, do I keep thinking that he's so beautiful?
He is. He has those wonderful, smart eyes that I could spend hours looking at, and he has those tantalizingly pouty lips which, I believe, have transfixed millions of people to bend on their knees in front of him. He has the most perfect skin color and I know it's not just me when I say he radiates such a soothing glow. He is, probably, the prettiest person I know... and when he smiled at me, I just went crazy.
The day I realized that he was more important than everyone else around me, I knew I'd be spending most of my time thinking about him-and that was exactly what I did: I kept on thinking about him, every single day. I woke up in the morning with butterflies fluttering in my stomach because I knew I'd be seeing him at work, and at night I smiled before I went to sleep because I knew I'd be dreaming about him. He has become my prior necessity lately, even if it was only in the form of someone I had to look at to keep my mood up and my spirit high and running.
More violent shaking and my heart races into utter panic.
Just one minute, God... I regret that I've hesitated all this time, so just give me this one more minute.
Quickly I reach for his hand that is the nearest to me, and I hold it tight in my grasp. My action makes him open his eyes and when they meet mine, I finally can see that he's just as scared as I am, even though I thought he didn't look so. He clutches back at my hand, partially quivering, as if he's holding some kind of a great wave from flooding out of him. I wish I can tell him that it's all going to be alright, and that this will all be over in just a minute, but I don't want to lie to him. It's the last thing I want, seeing him sad or troubled, but the only consolation that I can offer him is this: the knowledge that he's not alone, that he's never alone, not even in the deepest and darkest and scariest moment of his life. I'm always here for him, just like I've always been by his side all along.
Painfully, my voice comes out through my tightened throat, and I know this might just be the last thing I am ever going to say to anyone. But I suppose it's worth it.
"I love you, Ruki."
For a second he looks as if he didn't just hear what I said-and I guess that's reasonable, thinking about the situation around us, how hectic things are. But then I can feel him clutching at my hand tighter than before. And then I see the glint of tears making their way down his cheeks and the movement of his lips as he begins to reply, but I never really get to see or hear what he says. It is when the lights completely go off and the screaming peaks and the world tilts 90 degrees downward...
===
* A/N: Okay. You can kill me now. \(@___@)/
I'm sorry to have to come up with such a depressing story but I guess my brain is just made up of that odd, odd mixture of unhealthy humor and suicidal thoughts... No, J/K :P
Well, that's part I for you. I hope I can make you less upset at me (is that possible??) by telling you that part II is a whole lot more cheerful kind of a story than this...
Many other great stories here