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"I'm not much in the mood for talking tonight." |
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*Aramis doesn't look up from his half-empty flask of gin. His eyes occasionaly drift down towars the stinking, splintering, alcohol-soaked wood of the bar table, finding one mysterious stain, then the next. His thoughts are on someone tonight, someone who both evokes tremendous feelings of complete and utter infallible adoration and a rage that would drive him mad, should he ever choose to let it out.*
"I knew someone once," he half-whispers, never making eye contact. "Someone who was my very world. I'm sorry to divert from the oh-so-glorious story of my past, but tonight, I'm not much in the mood to talk about that. His name was... No. It's better not to name names, I guess. But I guess I could describe him to you, Deus, those beautiful blue eyes... He was young, at the time, and I should have known better, I guess. I think I felt that I needed to protect him, parent him somehow, shield him from all the ugliness of the world. But anyway... He had this... stunning short blonde hair that fell to the nape of his neck in this messy but neat kind of way. Something that could look just as well whether he'd spent hours on it or just woke up after a long night. The kind of hair you'd just want to run your fingers through and mess up a little, you know what I mean? And he had these... gorgeous sapphire eyes, eyes you could almost drown in if you stared into them too long, eyes that resembled the dying twilight just after sunset. He had this... tiny little nose, small and upturned, which just enhanced his boyish looks, of course, and a set of shell-pink lips that seemed to tremble if you'd speak to him too harshly. And, oh, how I fell for him. I fell harder than I'd ever fell before, head over heels, as the saying goes. He was my world. To this day, I can't figure out just what he wanted."
*Aramis stops a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next. He isn't sure if he should continue, as if he may be stepping into territory that he'd been long since exiled from*
"I gave him all of me. All of my love and attention. And yet, he was dissatisfied. He seemed content, at first, but things change. I don't know why I was unable to provide for him any longer. I don't know what I could have done differently to make him stay. I remember telling him that if he wanted to leave, well, that was fine. 'Go on and live your life for yourself,' I said, 'be happy for once.' If he's happier without me, then so be it. But his joy is my misery, and it tears me apart to see his face every time I close my eyes, to hear his voice echoing in my head, his whispers of false ardor and all those sweet little lies he fed me over and over again. And I drank it all in. I thrived on those lies, I let him build me up and tear me down as he saw fit. Oh, he seemed so innocent and lost. I should have been able to see right though that. Always the submissive type, he was, needing someone to parent him, protect him. I thought that's what he wanted. I thought that's what I gave. Apparently, my love wasn't good enough."
*Aramis doesn't bother trying to hide the single teardrop that slid down his cheek, leaving a tiny rivulet that started at his green eye and came to its abrupt end as another unimportant stain on the table*
"I don't doubt now that he had someone else that entire time he was stringing me along. And what hurts the most is that I still see him sometimes, standing there with his newest, latest companion. Saying all those things to that person he used to say to me... Quite possibly repeating every loving word I'd ever spoken to him to his new love. I try not to let it bother me. But when I'm lying alone at night, staring up at the cieling, I can't help but cringe at the thought that he's warm and content in the arms of another. The hedonist... no. I won't speak ill of him. I suppose if I had someone foolish enough to cry every night for me and still come crawling on their hands and knees for my attention, I'd probably jump at the opportunity as well. The problem is, he doesn't seem to know just how much this hurts me. Or rather... he doens't seem to care. Just so long as he's happy, that's fine with him. To hell with whoever he hurts along the way. One thing I've learned, though, from that murderer Kymeris himself, 'Always carry roses on your way to glory, for the path is littered with corpses.' As long as he has something to look forward to, he can't be bothered with the feelings of others."
*Aramis takes a long, hard drink out of his flask*
"Heartbreak is the tax we pay for love. Bah. I suppose I can't be bothered with him anymore. The more time I waste pining away after him, the less time I spend looking for someone who'd treat me a hell of a lot better. I can't help it, though. It seems the more I try to forget him, the more his face forces its way though my mind... What could I have done differently? What more did he want? Why wasn't I good enough? I suppose... I'll never know. I hope he hears this, though. I hope he knows what kind of pain he still puts me through, to this very day. I hope he understands what kind of crippling agony his little mind games wreaks on people. But most of all..."
*Aramis' bottom lip begins to tremble as he raises his face to the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from flooding out of his eyes. In the end, however, he can't stop the torrent, and hides his face in his hands, a painful knot gnawing at his throat as he struggles to keep from sobbing*
"I hope he's happy," Aramis whispers. "Wherever he is, whatever he's doing. I hope his beautiful heart is full of joy and whatever he has going in his life is true and good for him. I hate myself for not being able to hate him, it would be so... so much easier... Deus... I need some time alone. I'm sorry... I--I'll... continue this another time, I just need to be by myself now..."
*Aramis stands up from his chair and shakily makes his way to the stairs, his knees weak from raw heartache the effects of his gin. He leans heavily on the handrail as he makes his way upstairs, no doubt to his room, where he can let loose his pent-up grief in the privacy of his own room, a room he once shared with the only person who could have truly made him smile.*
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Mon Nov 15, 2004 @ 12:51am · 0 Comments |
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