TEEN: - Complete ~*Shards of Broken Glass*~ My short stories and song fics...

[Ginger Cat]

Why not?
Decided to post my archive of short stories and poetry. I haven't wirtten anything poke-related in quite a while... Need to start writing more, period. Perhaps having something up will help some...

Anyway, I'm going to start with a short story--almost a monolouge, really--from Gio's POV... Oh, and "Ashley" is the one whom most people (incluiding the, eh, official sources...) call Deliah...

------------

World Tainted Gray​

Why am I here?

This world, everything in it, means nothing. There’s so much out there, and none of it is worth anything. Sure, everyone can say that there’s something there, that it’s all worth it. I think that’s bull.

Life is pointless. Not only is it pointless, but it’s inescapable. You can’t hide from it, much as I’d like to say it was possible. If it were so, I might be spared.

No one would believe this of me. Hell, I doubt that anyone would believe I feel anything at all. I’m only their Boss. I have no feelings, right? I yell, I command, I get work done, and I feel nothing.

If only they knew. Wouldn’t it be funny if they did? Hilarious. Because then they’d break free of the restraints that bind them, those restraints made up of fear for those who are unfeeling.

No, they’ll never know. They can continue to believe that their vision of who I am is the truth. It keeps them in line, so I’ll leave it. Doesn’t matter anyway. No sympathy from that pack.

Not that I expect any from anyone. I threw my last chance of sympathy away somewhere around ten years ago, when I lost Ashley. I don’t want to think about that now… but the worst thing I’ve ever done was let her go.

I mean that, too. I lead a crime organization. I kill those who stand in my way. That doesn’t bother me. I don’t find it wrong. For me, ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are one and the same. There’s something else my employees would never believe. Good for them.

I’ll say it again; ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are the same. Their definitions simply vary from person to person. That is, if they can be defined. How does one define something as being condemnable and not? There is no force behind these definitions. They’re simply society’s way of venting off tantrums.

In short, ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are nothing. So how is what I do wrong? It isn’t. At least, the way I see it. If I’m wrong…

And there’s my problem. Who knows what about this world? There’s so much that could be true, so many theories. How do you know which one is right? Maybe all of them. Maybe one that hasn’t been proposed. Hell, maybe there aren’t any. Maybe the world runs by itself just because.

I wouldn’t be surprised. After all, what could make the rules that hold this universe together? Personally, I can’t comprehend anything that could. There’s so much around us, so much that it cannot possibly be controlled.

We have our own world. Our world is part of a solar system. Our solar system is part of a universe. And who knows how many universes are out there?

I once heard a theory that said there are worlds within worlds; that universes are made up of smaller universes. This theory states that our universe may be nothing but the subatomic particle of another universe’s dust. It states that every time we tramp through grass, we kill millions of worlds in the process.

Crazy, isn’t it? All of the thoughts I’ve been having are like that. They sound crazy, and yet, maybe they’re true. How can you know that they aren’t? How can you know what is true and what is it? Are you simply told?

Some people seem to believe that they have evidence to prove everything. What they’ve really got is some pure bullshit. They can’t prove anything, because there’s nothing to prove, nothing to prove from.

How do we know that everything we see is real? What if it’s all a dream, a hallucination. What if none of this is real? Fro all I know, I’m in a coma. Maybe I’m dead. Maybe I was never alive. Maybe none of us were ever alive. How’s that strike you?

If we are alive, then why? Is there purpose? Is there reason? What is it? To make it to the top? To beat everyone else? To be better?
There’s nothing in any of that, though. It doesn’t matter how powerful you are, you still die. We pass from life to death quickly, most with unremarkable lives. Even those who are remembered have died. They know not of the memories they leave behind.

Or do they? Some say there is an afterlife. In fact, many do. Some call it reincarnation. Shit on that. Is there a point to being reborn? To living life all over again, to die?

Others call it Heaven and Hell. Shit on that, too. There is no such. Nothing can run everything. It’s impossible. Unless, of course, it’s my mind not comprehending. I refuse to believe it, though. Religion is brainwashing. Heaven is nothing. Hell is a town.

So why the hell are we all here? I don’t know. I don’t understand this at all. It seemed to make sense before. At one time, power seemed important. It seemed important to make it to the top, to beat all the rest. At one time, it seemed important that I lead a nation of United Rockets.

At one time, making the world see the power of the Rockets one important. Waging war on the world seemed imperative. It all sounded wonderful, a dizzy rush of power.

Now power doesn’t matter. I run this because it’s what I have, because it’s something I can do. Even if I question it, I do it. Day after day I go through life, trying to ignore the thoughts in my mind, trying to keep my mind on the job.

You see? All of this… It’s tearing me apart, piece by piece. It shouldn’t be happening. I should be able to dismiss these thoughts. They don’t leave, though. They’ve found a place to stay, and won’t go away.

I’ll be working, shouting instructions at some idiot who doesn’t know shit, or maybe just laying in bed, and the thoughts will begin to tear into me. They only lay off for short periods of time before returning with vengeance, ready to start at me. Ready to make me go crazy.

I think I may be going insane. I think I have been ever since I began to think like this. Looking at it from an outsider’s perceptive, it certainly seems irrational. Crazy talk, hell yeah, that’s what it is.

Well, not crazy talk. I can’t talk about it. Who is there to talk to? My employees? That’s great. A real laugh. As I’ve already stated, they’re no help. They wouldn’t believe it, and if they did, I could kiss the Team goodbye. The agents won’t work too well once they find out that their Boss is losing it.

Hell, if they found out anything about me, the real me, the me they never see, I can kiss my life goodbye. Those people are like myself in at least one way… They kill if they feel they have the opportunity. And believe me, they’d go for it. A chance to take over? Go figure, who’d pass that up.

I can’t talk to my daughter. She’d listen, probably help, but… I just can’t. Probably because, yeah, I care about her. I don’t want her to know I’m losing it. To have her know what I was thinking, that I’ve been questioning the rules of life, that I’ve been questioning everything… I don’t want her to look at me like I’m insane, even if I am. I don’t think she’d do it on purpose, but it seems that people can’t keep themselves from giving crazies a certain look.

Honestly, I don’t think I could stand seeing that look from her. I don’t want to tell her, don’t want to worry her, damnit! So there goes another option.

I had Ashley to talk to at one point in time. I can remembered telling her what I was thinking, and I can hear her replying with her own thoughts. That was before the Team, at least, before I joined the Team. Before my mind started to stumble upon these outrageous thoughts.

I wish she was here. Right here, right now. I’d apologize for everything I’ve ever done. I’d get on the floor and beg. I’d renounce the Team. I don’t care, I just want her back.

Of course, there is a small problem with that. No, not just a small problem. Two big problems. I don’t know where she lives. That’d make finding her a nice task, wouldn’t it? I could probably find her, but…

But what if all I received was the rejection? What if she doesn’t want to see me? I don’t want to be turned away from her. Ha, funny though. Me being turned away by a woman not even associated with the Rockets… That’s so funny I forgot to laugh.

I sound selfish, don’t I? No big surprise, I guess. I’ve been selfish all of my life. I ignore people if I want to. I do whatever I want to. It doesn’t matter to me what others say, I go ahead with my plans. I break promises. Maybe there isn’t a good definition for ‘good’ or ‘evil’, but there is one for ‘selfish.’ Myself.
I’m selfish, now I’m whining, but I would like to point another aspect out. The reasons I don’t look for Ashley are not limited to my selfishness and fear of rejection. They are, in fact, largely based on my idea that I don’t want to hurt her.

It’s true. If I ever do anything to hurt her again, I don’t know what I’ll do to myself. I just can’t. I have already done so much damage to her…

She left me, and if she doesn’t want to see me, I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to put her through a lot of stress. Don’t want to make her angry with either of us, especially not herself. So I stay away.

Is that ridiculous? I guess so. I’m a ridiculous person. Why else would I be in this situation?

If Ashley was here, she’d help. If Ashley was here…

But she isn’t here! I have to remind myself constantly. Why? I don’t know. It’s been like that for a long time, but it’s getting worse. I keep expecting to see her walk through the door. No logic to that, is there?

See, all my logic is leaving me. It’s packed up its bags to find a more reasonable person, one who isn’t being plagued by insanity. Farewell, adieu, have a nice trip, guess I’ll never see you again!

I haven’t been like this my whole life. I mean, for a long time I wasn’t the kind of guy who’d head a crime organization. I was a normal kid. Well, sort of. My mother wasn’t there, and there was always an off-feeling in my family, but it was basically normal.

Thing change, though. Time is merely the passing of our lives, and it likes to bend anything it can. Time isn’t so great. It likes to screw us all over. After all, the reason we die is because we live through time, true?

My life altered, I’d prefer not to speak of it. You’re better off not knowing, anyway. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fun. Time sure did a number on my family.

So here I am, okay. Head of the Rockets, losing my mind. I know I am, that’s got to be what it is. These thoughts… these thoughts that plague me…

I hear voices, too. Yeah, laugh it up, but I do. They sound like my own, and they argue inside of my head. Sometimes two, sometimes more. They’ll get into arguments over the most insignificant occurrences.

When the thoughts come, the voices accompany them. They don’t always speak, but I can hear them getting ready to do so. When they do speak, it’s in a clamor so thick that it covers my normal line of thoughts. If it wasn’t for the fact that voices are worse than irrational thoughts, this little bit of information’d relieve me.

I try to tell myself that the voices are normal. Maybe that it’s just my own way of thinking. That’s a lie, though, and I know it. I don’t think any of it out, and the voices don’t always have the same ideas I do.

I think I’m losing it. Maybe slowly, but it’s all leaving. I’d like to give up, but I can’t. The world simply won’t allow it. It just laughs and says, ‘Too damn bad, your fault, you shouldn’t have let yourself become who you are and anyway, I’m not responsible for your troubles, so deal with your own shit.’

We all love this world, don’t we? All of the stark reality…

That’s the word. Reality. That’s what I’ve been questioning the validity of. How real is reality? How real can it possibly be, with everything we don’t know?

Every restriction could be a law. They probably are lies. The world is a lie. Reality isn’t REAL!

Now… now you see… you have to see… I’m losing my mind…

My world has started to fall apart. My mind has begun to crash. My world has become tainted with a gray fog.

Every day goes by like this, with me questioning the world, with me finding myself falling farther away from reality. It’s all slipping away from me, and I won’t be able to bring it back. No one here for me, no one to help me, no way I can save myself.

One day I’ll flip out completely. I’ll just give up. I really, honestly don’t know how much longer I can stand all of this. There’s so much here, so much to look at, to think about, and it’s all crowding into my mind, flooding it with thoughts I don’t want, that I never wanted.

People can say it’s better to be informed, better to question reality than to go about foolishly believing in it, but I’d rather be deluded. Better to be deluded than falling apart. To be unknowing than to know too much.

I’m serious about falling apart. I can see the edge if I close my eyes. Before the voices crowd in, I can see my sanity as a picture of a cliff. I can see myself moving ever closer to the edge…

And no one will be there to save me. I’ll go down alone, forever alone. Insane, knowing too much… My world tainted gray.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Said it on FFnet and I'll say it here, this fic rocks ass.

 

[Fig]

Ginger! Glad to see some ficcage from you.

World Tainted Gray, don't think I had read that one before (you
probably posted it while I was not reading much).

Very likeable. As most if not all of your ficcies tend to be .

 

[Ginger Cat]

Thankee-sais...


Another short thing... Letterish.

------

Another Face in the Crowd​

Wataru,


I don’t know how to tell you this.

I mean, honestly, I don’t have a clue. Not a one. Not even a vague hint. I’m going on emotions, and maybe what I’ve seen on television. What good is that?

Every day I look for you. Every time I turn the television on, I hope for a story on you. Every time I talk to someone, I hope to hear news of you.

Funny, isn’t it? I guess I’m crazy. This is beyond anything I’ve ever felt or experienced. I can’t handle it, and I don’t know if I can stand it.

It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve tried to explain it to myself, but everything sounds like a lie. It sounds like I’m stumbling for an explanation. There isn’t one, so how can I find one?

Sometimes I lie in bed trying to understand. How can any of this be? How is it possible? What is it? I ask myself questions, and I don’t understand any of them.

No… That’s not quite right. It’s not that I don’t understand; it’s that I don’t want to think. Thinking can lead to shit I don’t want, that I don’t need. So I try to push it away. Not that it helps.

I don’t get it. Screw this! Screw everything!

How can I feel this? How can I be this way? I don’t even know you! I’ve never even met you!

True, I’ve seen you. You’re on television nearly every week, telling off newscasters who seem to bug the hell out of you. I suppose that that’s normal… Being bothered by the newscasters. Yeah, I can see where you’d become annoyed.

At least you’ve got limelight, though. Everyone knows you. Hardly anyone knows me. I’m just… I’m just another face in the crowd. Yeah, that’s about right.

I’m a face in the crowd and you’re a celebrity. Everyone knows your face. Everyone knows the hard planes, the hair that seems to be almost greasy yet stylish at the same time.

Everyone can recognize the determined set of your body, can recognize your not-quite-hoarse voice.

Everyone seems to think that they know how you’ll act. They think they’ve got you down. I know; I’ve heard them talk about you. You’re a hot topic, you know.

They all say that you’ve got a strong personality. They say that you’re bound to use a combination of wit and strength when you fight. They say that you’re a nice enough guy out of battles, and that you’ll at least try to be polite to anyone who asks questions of you.

I’m under the impression that this is stereotyping, though. There’s more to you than what they see, isn’t there? You’re a difficult person to understand; I knew that from the moment I saw you.

Yeah, the first time I saw you in the arena. I was just another face in the crowd then, sitting among hundreds who had managed to scrounge together enough money to buy tickets. Do you have any idea how much those cost? All right, I suppose you do… Never mind.

I saw you battling some kid. You seemed to be concentrating completely, fully into what you were doing. Those around me seemed entranced… I must admit that I too was pulled into your field.

It’s something about you. There is a strength that radiates from your being, engulfing anyone unlucky enough to stand in the way. Unlucky or lucky?

Lucky. Now I’ve seen the light, praise the savior and all that. I mean it, though. Before I saw you, nothing had a purpose. Now I have one, as impossible as it may seem.

Impossible is all right, though, isn’t it? That’s what you show everyone. Even when it looks like there is no way, there can be one. All you need is strength and will.

I’ve got that at last. It’s all for one purpose, all for you. I doubt that you’re flattered, and I can’t blame you. After all, you’re only my purpose.

Fans swarm over you like mad. I’ve seen other girls go crazy, swooning at the sight of you. I’ve heard many start blabbering about you. And now I’ve found myself drawn into the attraction to you.

I’m not quite sure how it all happened. Like I said, it hit the moment I actually saw you. From there on it built up piece by piece, layer by layer. It grows stronger every day, becoming even firmer as I go on.

I join in conversations about you. I join in raving about you. I join friends… or those I call my friends, in watching you on the television, in listening to you on the radio. Yeah, I’m caught in the rush of the crowd.

Caught in the rush of the crowd, lost in a wall of song. You’re ringing in my ear…

Sorry. You probably don’t know what that is. It isn’t original. It’s from a song… It just seemed to fit the mood.

If I’m not making sense, don’t be surprised. Even as I write this, I know that it’ll confuse you. It’s the way I am when I think of you… I get confusing. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Well, I do. I want you to read it. I don’t think you will, though. You probably have someone else read the letters. Perhaps Itsuki. I don’t know…

I’m hanging onto the hope that you will, however, and I’m going to send it to you. I want you to know what I’m about to say, as stupid as it may… will sound.

Wataru…

I hate you.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

You get that?

I HATE YOU!

I hate the way you can beat everyone. I hate the way you can be so confident. I hate the way that everyone looks up to you. I hate the way you have so much control. I hate the way that you talk. I hate the way you dress. I hate the way you battle. I hate the way you look at people. I hate the patience that you show. I hate you.

I hate you, and I’m going to kill you.

Thank you for giving me purpose, Wataru.


~The Face in the Crowd

----

Caught in the rush of the crowd, lost in a wall of song. You’re ringing in my ear… As a side ntoe, that's from American Hi-Fi's Wall of SOund... Forgot I had it in there.

 

[Timarelay]

Yay ^_^ Ginger stories! Read both of these before but t'was a while ago so I re-read them and I still love them ^__^ Have always loved your writing.

 

[Ginger Cat]

Thankee-sai for reading, Tima... Muchas gracias.

Ooo, song fic time... Yay. Anyway, this is one of the first... Maybe it is the first song fic that I wrote. It's Butch! Yes...

Oh yah, and this is done to the song Name by the Goo Goo Dolls... From the Album A Boy Named Goo, if you wish to know...

--------------

Name​

‘And even though the moment passed me by,
I still can’t turn away.
With all the dreams you never though you’d lose,
Tossed along the way.
And letters that you never meant to send
Got lost or thrown away.’

Butch stood in front of the door, shifting nervously on his feet. His blue-green hair was styled as it always had been, parted in front and brushed down towards his eyes, the way he liked it. The way the both of them had worn their hair. He was dressed all in black, with the exception of his white tee shirt, a style that contradicted the reason he was standing on the threshold.
He hadn’t yet been able to do anything but stand, and he’d been there for nearly five minutes. How could he begin? It’d been four years since he’d last seen her, and he’d counted himself lucky to be able to find her. “There is no way,” he murmured quietly, rubbing at the jagged line on the right side of his face.
If this were the norm, he’d have been in the house, or turned away, four and a half minutes ago, at least. Usually, he could take action, could stand to deal with it. The past years had been nothing but, ever since he’d been sent out to work in the deadlier field. Still, he was unable to decide.
It was because his mind kept locking up whenever he thought of her. Images of how she had been, how he remembered her, kept floating past his mind. Her understanding, her own breed of courage. It all filled his mind, rendering him speechless.
What hurt the worst was the fact that he hadn’t been able to contact her. He’d wanted to badly, but there hadn’t been a way. No goddamn way, and the more he had thought about it, the more he had missed her.
The transfer to the other field had not been of his own choice. He had been told a week in advance that he was to go, that there was no way out. It had been a shock, and he had wanted to tell Cassidy, but hadn’t been able to find a way. How could he tell her, anyway?
He’d toiled through thoughts on the matter for days, never stopping to actually consider what was about to happen. Not wanting too. All that had mattered was breaking it to his partner. In the end, he’d found a way.
Because before he had left, the night before, she’d told him she loved him. It had been at her apartment, one she’d apparently moved out of. She’d taken him there and told him, said she loved him, and that she’d do anything for him, and that she’d give anything. That she wanted to be with him for the rest of his life.
At that, he nearly lost it. Finally he knew that they felt the same way for each other, and it wasn’t going to work. He’d told her all about it, trying not to cry, finding it surprisingly difficult.
Her reaction had been terrible. She HAD cried, had broken out in an unending wave of tears. At one point she’d cut at him with a knife, trying to retain him with violence. She’d told him to refuse to go, though they both knew it was unstoppable. In the end, she had walked out, leaving him alone, as if it had been his fault. And maybe, maybe somehow it had.
“Oh Cassidy,” he thought tiredly, staring at her house, still unable to move. “Why did you have to say it then? Why did it have to be that way?”
It had been worse once he’d left, though. Working in the harder way had always been Cassidy’s goal. She’d talked about it constantly, had often confided to him that it was her dream.
Now he had found out that she was still working on the same line, theft. Never had there been a chance for advancement for her, despite the fact that it had been Cassidy who’d wanted it. He’d hardly even dreamed of it, had taken things as they had come. Apparently, it was what his one love had been forced to do.
And that’s what she had been, what she still was in his mind. All the while he had been away, he had thought of her, tried to communicate. Of course, he hadn’t been able to do it. Not at that level, not with those assignments. And she’d never been able to contact him, if she had wanted too. He was sure she had, she HAD to have tried. Hadn’t she?
When it seemed that he would never get on with it, the door swung open, and Cassidy stood in the doorway. Hey eyes sparkled with something he didn’t recognize, but took as surprise. Her hair, her beautiful golden hair, was down. He’d never seen it that way before and, though it was beautiful, noticed only that out of everything that wasn’t quite right. “Hello…” she began, than cut off as their eyes met. “Oh… God…”
There was something in her voice that was off, but Butch didn’t notice it. In his mind, she was as she had been in the past. The thought that she had changed had played in the back of his mind, but he has ignored it. Of course she was the same!
“Hello, Cass,” he lifted his hand slightly, barely able to believe that she was standing there.

‘And now we’re grown-up orphans
Who never knew their names,
We don’t belong to know one that’s a shame.
You could hide beside me,
Maybe for a while,
And I won’t tell no one your name.
I won’t tell ‘em your name.’

It seemed to him that neither of them would move, he certainly couldn’t, and she was simply staring. Finally, she managed to speak. “Come on in.”
He found that his had tongue knotted, so he simply nodded. With that, he stepped inside, and followed her through a beautifully decorated hall to a spacious living room. She sat in a velvet-lined chair, and motioned to one across, not bothering with the couch.
Butch noticed none of this, however. Didn’t even think about the way she was looking at him, the way she had spoken. That look in her eyes eluded him. All that mattered to him was that, at the moment, she was there.
A slightly uncomfortable silence followed, and that feeling of wrongness began to seep into Butch. It drifted away momentarily, however, when Cassidy finally broke the quiet. “So… how are you?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied, smiling sadly. And wasn’t that the truth? He wasn’t sure. “I mean, I’m glad to be seeing you again, but… I don’t know.”
The truth was that there was too much around him, too much going on. He’d been promoted, and had more time now and could schedule for himself. The promotion also meant more dangerous jobs, however. There were two sides to it.
Then there was the job itself. He didn’t even know how he felt about it, really. Sure, it was good. It kept him busy, and he didn’t mind it. Part of him, a large yet hidden part, knew how wrong it was. That part also knew the dangers. All in all, he didn’t even know why he was doing it.
“And you… how are you?” he looked into her eyes, eagerly awaiting an answer, any answer. He simply wanted to hear from her.
“The same… I agree with not being sure,” she returned his sad smile, and there was a depth to it he couldn’t possibly miss.
What had it been? Had it been his imagination? No… no, it couldn’t have. He’d seen it, and he knew it. But why?
Maybe it was because she was a lone, as he was. Honestly, he hoped it was the answer. It seemed a horrible thing to want, but if they were both solitary, than it could be as it was. In his mind, there seemed to be no way it couldn’t be.
“Cassidy…” he began, not quite sure how he was going to word it, not sure at all. It would come, though. At least, he hoped it would. It did. “I… I want to be with you again. I’m sorry I left, God, I am!” He looked at her and saw no visual response. She remained still. Maybe it was simple shock… Or maybe not.
Less sure of himself, he picked it up again. “Cassidy, I swear I’ll be with you! They’ve given me new opportunities! I can do more of what I want! You want people to know? We can tell! You want it to be a secret? It can be a secret. Cass, I’ll do what you want because I honestly love you!”
He wanted her to say she would, oh, God, did he ever. She hadn’t spoken yet, but he could wait. He had to, had to let her decide… He just hoped she’d say ‘yes.’


‘Scars are souvenirs you never lose,
The past is never far.
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there;
Did you get to be a star?
Don’t it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are?’

Instead of answering directly, Cassidy motioned to his right cheek. Again, he rubbed at the scar there, the mark the knife had left. Her eyes were weary and saddened, and he suddenly realized that something was wrong. HE had been wrong. Nothing could ever stay the same, not ever. Something wasn’t right.
“That scar,” Cassidy’s voice had an odd choked quality to it. “When I… when I gave you that it symbolized the end. When you left, you, I don’t know, you left for good.”
Butch looked at her, his eyes widening as he understood, as he realized what she was saying. There was no going back for this, and now he knew that he HAD been wrong. He knew he should’ve tried to leave.
“That decision you made to go still hurts me, Butch. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that. I’ve tried, but I can’t,” she shook her head when he began to protest. “I don’t know if you could really avoid it, I don’t CARE! There had to be a way, and this hurts!”
He saw with horror that there were tears beginning in her eyes, and felt a tremor shake through his own body. He was angry, but it only lasted for a second. It turned to pity, pity for the young woman he’d left. How could he have left her? How could he have let her be alone?
He raised his eyes and managed to look at her steadily as she finished her short speech. “Butch, I don’t love you anymore. I did, but it went when the scar appeared.”
Suddenly, he felt that anger building up inside of him again. He didn’t want to feel it towards her, but it was in there. Boiling and frothing madly as it churned inside of him. He was disgusted at it, and yet he was glad of it. As long as he wasn’t swimming in love, he could at least think clearly.
How could she accuse him so? He didn’t understand. “Cassidy,” he tried to keep the anger inside, and somehow managed to succeed. “You KNOW I couldn’t get out of it. I had to go, there was no way out. If it had been you, you would’ve gone gladly,” he shot a cold look at her, and she cringed back slightly. It made him feel bad and slightly better at the same time.
“How can you stop loving me for something more than I could take care of?” his voice had become more strained, not only with anger but also with despair. “How…” Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. Though it was bitter, for all he knew it was true.
“Was it more than just me leaving, Cass? Was there more to it? Jealousy? Or maybe it was a new job you had yourself, or maybe even someone else… was that it?” he was becoming gradually more angry with himself and the woman across from him at the same time.
Cassidy stared at him, and he realized that it was all of those. A sick feeling came over him, and he suddenly felt a nearly overwhelming urge to vomit. “It was, wasn’t it?”
She nodded slightly, and he noticed that the tears were gone. “After you left, I was offered a higher position in the field. I took it on my own, and was promoted several times. The salary was always climbing with my status, and finally I reached a point where I was happy. The problem was, there was no one… and then I was assigned a partner.”
He ignored her stony glare. “That’s it… Christ…”
How could SHE have done that? Just forget about him like that, stop loving him because she loved money, than another. She… Oh God.
His eyes had dropped his line of vision to the floor, and now he looked up at her. “All the while I was gone, I thought about you. Now I know that all of that was for something false, that I shouldn’t have wasted my time.”


‘You grew up way too fast,
Now there’s nothing to believe.
And reruns all become our history.
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio,
And I won’t tell no one your name.
I won’t tell ‘em your way.’

She looked at him momentarily, stunned to a loss of speech. When she replied, it was in a weary voice that made his heart ache both for her, and for what they could’ve had. “Butch, I’ve given up on true love. All of it is false, I can see that now…” She looked past him, her eyes glazing slightly.
“How… how could you give up on something like that?” he didn’t understand. To just give up on love. Something everyone wanted, everyone needed. Something she had simply tossed aside as untrue, now.
Blandly, as though she were spitting out something she hated, she managed to speak. “Because once you gave up on me, I gave up on all of it.”
“I didn’t give up on you!” he jumped up, and oh God there was that rage. It was the anger that had landed him the higher position. It was anger that had led him away. And now it was anger that seemed to be directing his actions.
He didn’t want it to be that way, couldn’t let it be that way, so he managed to sit down. That expression of hate and hurt in his eyes wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave, but he did calm down enough to think almost clearly.
“You did,” her blank eyes revealed that she indeed believed this, believed it with all of her heart and soul. “So now it’s all nothing. Nothing means a thing, except for money, for power…”
He looked at her quietly, holding what she had said in quiet anger and regard. Money? Power? Had she become a machine then? Was she that different?
No… not quite. Cassidy had always been more driven by material goods than he had. He had worked because it had been necessary, or because he enjoyed it. The money had been a necessity, but only to a point. After awhile, it was nothing.
So in a way, it was almost the same. Cassidy had often ditched plans for missions, often gone for the higher paying work. Here it was, all over again. And here he was, once more, trying to convince her to think otherwise. Even in his anger, he loved her and wanted her back with him. Wanted it to be like it had been.
“Cassidy, please. Please come back, it’ll be all right,” his throat felt dry, and he wished for water. Oh damn, why did something so trivial have to seem so important? Water wasn’t important, Cassidy was. And he had to pay attention to the matter at hand.
“No, it won’t,” she replied with the same tired voice. “It won’t ever be the same. It’ll all be played over, and we won’t have a chance. You know it, Butch. You must.”
Truthfully, he didn’t, but he also didn’t admit it. “One more chance…”
“No more chances,” she shook her head firmly, and he felt something inside of him begin to die.
She had meant it. She was through with him, was finished with true love. What she had said, she had honestly believed. Or at least thought she believed. So that was it, there was no more hope for it. “Than I suppose I’ll leave,” the words felt heavy in his dry mouth, and he found himself wishing that it could be different somehow, oh God, why couldn’t it be different?
“I’ll show you out,” Cassidy rose from her chair, and he followed to the door. When she opened it, he stepped out, than turned to look at her.


‘I think about you all the time,
But I don’t need the same.
It’s lonely where you are,
Come back down,
And I won’t tell your name.’

“Cassidy, I have to say it again,” he sighed, because he knew it would be useless. “I love you, and I won’t forget you… but if you don’t want me with you, than I can live with it… I think.”
They stared at each other momentarily, the porch light shining into their eyes dimly. He didn’t know what to say. All of his dreams had been crushed.
Throughout his time gone, she had been his hope, his guiding light. Now his light was out. While he had gone, it had been burnt, and would never work again. Maybe it would be replaceable, but maybe there would never be another that fit.
The thought was saddening, and he had to hold himself back against doing anything rash. He loved her. Christ, how could he still love her? After all that time, how could he still love her?
And how, just how had he been foolish enough to think that it would be all right in the end? How could he have been foolish enough to believe that everything would be the same?
Simple. Of course it was simple. It was because he had loved her. And he thought, somewhere deep in his mind, that it could be better once more. It could be better, he thought, because he still loved her.
She hadn’t replied and, after a moment’s hesitation, he spoke once more for the night. “If you ever change your mind… I mean, if you decide you can love, come back to me, Cass. Please, please come back.”
He waved with his fingers; she stood still, not replying with even a word or a gesture. It hurt him, but he decided to let it go. Maybe, just maybe, she would change her mind. He hoped so, he really hoped so.
The door closed, and he took one last look at her house. There was nothing more he could do at the time, nothing he could do to change what had happened. Much as he didn’t want to, he had to let time flow by itself.
Turning around, he took a deep breath. What he knew was that he loved her. What he knew was that he would give her another chance if she wanted one.
With that, he walked away into the night, a solitary figure in the darkness.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Wow...

Say, I have a question--why are you posting these all in one thread?

 

[Jude]

*pokes Blacky with pencil side of the compass*

Short story topic, dahling. Takes up less room, wouldn't you agree?

As to Ginger, you know I've always loved these. Especially Tainted... and Name! Love name.

 

[Ginger Cat]

Indeedy, as Toge said, takes less space to post this way...
Thanks much, guys.
And, since it makes sense to do the ones that go along together, here 'tis Name. Zah...

This is to the song Name by the Goo Goo Dolls... Same album as the lasty. Another fun song.

---------

Name​

‘And even though the moment passed me by,
I still can’t turn away.
With all the dreams you never though you’d lose,
Tossed along the way.
And letters that you never meant to send
Got lost or thrown away.’

Butch stood in front of the door, shifting nervously on his feet. His blue-green hair was styled as it always had been, parted in front and brushed down towards his eyes, the way he liked it. The way the both of them had worn their hair. He was dressed all in black, with the exception of his white tee shirt, a style that contradicted the reason he was standing on the threshold.
He hadn’t yet been able to do anything but stand, and he’d been there for nearly five minutes. How could he begin? It’d been four years since he’d last seen her, and he’d counted himself lucky to be able to find her. “There is no way,” he murmured quietly, rubbing at the jagged line on the right side of his face.
If this were the norm, he’d have been in the house, or turned away, four and a half minutes ago, at least. Usually, he could take action, could stand to deal with it. The past years had been nothing but, ever since he’d been sent out to work in the deadlier field. Still, he was unable to decide.
It was because his mind kept locking up whenever he thought of her. Images of how she had been, how he remembered her, kept floating past his mind. Her understanding, her own breed of courage. It all filled his mind, rendering him speechless.
What hurt the worst was the fact that he hadn’t been able to contact her. He’d wanted to badly, but there hadn’t been a way. No goddamn way, and the more he had thought about it, the more he had missed her.
The transfer to the other field had not been of his own choice. He had been told a week in advance that he was to go, that there was no way out. It had been a shock, and he had wanted to tell Cassidy, but hadn’t been able to find a way. How could he tell her, anyway?
He’d toiled through thoughts on the matter for days, never stopping to actually consider what was about to happen. Not wanting too. All that had mattered was breaking it to his partner. In the end, he’d found a way.
Because before he had left, the night before, she’d told him she loved him. It had been at her apartment, one she’d apparently moved out of. She’d taken him there and told him, said she loved him, and that she’d do anything for him, and that she’d give anything. That she wanted to be with him for the rest of his life.
At that, he nearly lost it. Finally he knew that they felt the same way for each other, and it wasn’t going to work. He’d told her all about it, trying not to cry, finding it surprisingly difficult.
Her reaction had been terrible. She HAD cried, had broken out in an unending wave of tears. At one point she’d cut at him with a knife, trying to retain him with violence. She’d told him to refuse to go, though they both knew it was unstoppable. In the end, she had walked out, leaving him alone, as if it had been his fault. And maybe, maybe somehow it had.
“Oh Cassidy,” he thought tiredly, staring at her house, still unable to move. “Why did you have to say it then? Why did it have to be that way?”
It had been worse once he’d left, though. Working in the harder way had always been Cassidy’s goal. She’d talked about it constantly, had often confided to him that it was her dream.
Now he had found out that she was still working on the same line, theft. Never had there been a chance for advancement for her, despite the fact that it had been Cassidy who’d wanted it. He’d hardly even dreamed of it, had taken things as they had come. Apparently, it was what his one love had been forced to do.
And that’s what she had been, what she still was in his mind. All the while he had been away, he had thought of her, tried to communicate. Of course, he hadn’t been able to do it. Not at that level, not with those assignments. And she’d never been able to contact him, if she had wanted too. He was sure she had, she HAD to have tried. Hadn’t she?
When it seemed that he would never get on with it, the door swung open, and Cassidy stood in the doorway. Hey eyes sparkled with something he didn’t recognize, but took as surprise. Her hair, her beautiful golden hair, was down. He’d never seen it that way before and, though it was beautiful, noticed only that out of everything that wasn’t quite right. “Hello…” she began, than cut off as their eyes met. “Oh… God…”
There was something in her voice that was off, but Butch didn’t notice it. In his mind, she was as she had been in the past. The thought that she had changed had played in the back of his mind, but he has ignored it. Of course she was the same!
“Hello, Cass,” he lifted his hand slightly, barely able to believe that she was standing there.

‘And now we’re grown-up orphans
Who never knew their names,
We don’t belong to know one that’s a shame.
You could hide beside me,
Maybe for a while,
And I won’t tell no one your name.
I won’t tell ‘em your name.’

It seemed to him that neither of them would move, he certainly couldn’t, and she was simply staring. Finally, she managed to speak. “Come on in.”
He found that his had tongue knotted, so he simply nodded. With that, he stepped inside, and followed her through a beautifully decorated hall to a spacious living room. She sat in a velvet-lined chair, and motioned to one across, not bothering with the couch.
Butch noticed none of this, however. Didn’t even think about the way she was looking at him, the way she had spoken. That look in her eyes eluded him. All that mattered to him was that, at the moment, she was there.
A slightly uncomfortable silence followed, and that feeling of wrongness began to seep into Butch. It drifted away momentarily, however, when Cassidy finally broke the quiet. “So… how are you?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied, smiling sadly. And wasn’t that the truth? He wasn’t sure. “I mean, I’m glad to be seeing you again, but… I don’t know.”
The truth was that there was too much around him, too much going on. He’d been promoted, and had more time now and could schedule for himself. The promotion also meant more dangerous jobs, however. There were two sides to it.
Then there was the job itself. He didn’t even know how he felt about it, really. Sure, it was good. It kept him busy, and he didn’t mind it. Part of him, a large yet hidden part, knew how wrong it was. That part also knew the dangers. All in all, he didn’t even know why he was doing it.
“And you… how are you?” he looked into her eyes, eagerly awaiting an answer, any answer. He simply wanted to hear from her.
“The same… I agree with not being sure,” she returned his sad smile, and there was a depth to it he couldn’t possibly miss.
What had it been? Had it been his imagination? No… no, it couldn’t have. He’d seen it, and he knew it. But why?
Maybe it was because she was a lone, as he was. Honestly, he hoped it was the answer. It seemed a horrible thing to want, but if they were both solitary, than it could be as it was. In his mind, there seemed to be no way it couldn’t be.
“Cassidy…” he began, not quite sure how he was going to word it, not sure at all. It would come, though. At least, he hoped it would. It did. “I… I want to be with you again. I’m sorry I left, God, I am!” He looked at her and saw no visual response. She remained still. Maybe it was simple shock… Or maybe not.
Less sure of himself, he picked it up again. “Cassidy, I swear I’ll be with you! They’ve given me new opportunities! I can do more of what I want! You want people to know? We can tell! You want it to be a secret? It can be a secret. Cass, I’ll do what you want because I honestly love you!”
He wanted her to say she would, oh, God, did he ever. She hadn’t spoken yet, but he could wait. He had to, had to let her decide… He just hoped she’d say ‘yes.’


‘Scars are souvenirs you never lose,
The past is never far.
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there;
Did you get to be a star?
Don’t it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are?’

Instead of answering directly, Cassidy motioned to his right cheek. Again, he rubbed at the scar there, the mark the knife had left. Her eyes were weary and saddened, and he suddenly realized that something was wrong. HE had been wrong. Nothing could ever stay the same, not ever. Something wasn’t right.
“That scar,” Cassidy’s voice had an odd choked quality to it. “When I… when I gave you that it symbolized the end. When you left, you, I don’t know, you left for good.”
Butch looked at her, his eyes widening as he understood, as he realized what she was saying. There was no going back for this, and now he knew that he HAD been wrong. He knew he should’ve tried to leave.
“That decision you made to go still hurts me, Butch. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that. I’ve tried, but I can’t,” she shook her head when he began to protest. “I don’t know if you could really avoid it, I don’t CARE! There had to be a way, and this hurts!”
He saw with horror that there were tears beginning in her eyes, and felt a tremor shake through his own body. He was angry, but it only lasted for a second. It turned to pity, pity for the young woman he’d left. How could he have left her? How could he have let her be alone?
He raised his eyes and managed to look at her steadily as she finished her short speech. “Butch, I don’t love you anymore. I did, but it went when the scar appeared.”
Suddenly, he felt that anger building up inside of him again. He didn’t want to feel it towards her, but it was in there. Boiling and frothing madly as it churned inside of him. He was disgusted at it, and yet he was glad of it. As long as he wasn’t swimming in love, he could at least think clearly.
How could she accuse him so? He didn’t understand. “Cassidy,” he tried to keep the anger inside, and somehow managed to succeed. “You KNOW I couldn’t get out of it. I had to go, there was no way out. If it had been you, you would’ve gone gladly,” he shot a cold look at her, and she cringed back slightly. It made him feel bad and slightly better at the same time.
“How can you stop loving me for something more than I could take care of?” his voice had become more strained, not only with anger but also with despair. “How…” Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. Though it was bitter, for all he knew it was true.
“Was it more than just me leaving, Cass? Was there more to it? Jealousy? Or maybe it was a new job you had yourself, or maybe even someone else… was that it?” he was becoming gradually more angry with himself and the woman across from him at the same time.
Cassidy stared at him, and he realized that it was all of those. A sick feeling came over him, and he suddenly felt a nearly overwhelming urge to vomit. “It was, wasn’t it?”
She nodded slightly, and he noticed that the tears were gone. “After you left, I was offered a higher position in the field. I took it on my own, and was promoted several times. The salary was always climbing with my status, and finally I reached a point where I was happy. The problem was, there was no one… and then I was assigned a partner.”
He ignored her stony glare. “That’s it… Christ…”
How could SHE have done that? Just forget about him like that, stop loving him because she loved money, than another. She… Oh God.
His eyes had dropped his line of vision to the floor, and now he looked up at her. “All the while I was gone, I thought about you. Now I know that all of that was for something false, that I shouldn’t have wasted my time.”


‘You grew up way too fast,
Now there’s nothing to believe.
And reruns all become our history.
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio,
And I won’t tell no one your name.
I won’t tell ‘em your way.’

She looked at him momentarily, stunned to a loss of speech. When she replied, it was in a weary voice that made his heart ache both for her, and for what they could’ve had. “Butch, I’ve given up on true love. All of it is false, I can see that now…” She looked past him, her eyes glazing slightly.
“How… how could you give up on something like that?” he didn’t understand. To just give up on love. Something everyone wanted, everyone needed. Something she had simply tossed aside as untrue, now.
Blandly, as though she were spitting out something she hated, she managed to speak. “Because once you gave up on me, I gave up on all of it.”
“I didn’t give up on you!” he jumped up, and oh God there was that rage. It was the anger that had landed him the higher position. It was anger that had led him away. And now it was anger that seemed to be directing his actions.
He didn’t want it to be that way, couldn’t let it be that way, so he managed to sit down. That expression of hate and hurt in his eyes wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave, but he did calm down enough to think almost clearly.
“You did,” her blank eyes revealed that she indeed believed this, believed it with all of her heart and soul. “So now it’s all nothing. Nothing means a thing, except for money, for power…”
He looked at her quietly, holding what she had said in quiet anger and regard. Money? Power? Had she become a machine then? Was she that different?
No… not quite. Cassidy had always been more driven by material goods than he had. He had worked because it had been necessary, or because he enjoyed it. The money had been a necessity, but only to a point. After awhile, it was nothing.
So in a way, it was almost the same. Cassidy had often ditched plans for missions, often gone for the higher paying work. Here it was, all over again. And here he was, once more, trying to convince her to think otherwise. Even in his anger, he loved her and wanted her back with him. Wanted it to be like it had been.
“Cassidy, please. Please come back, it’ll be all right,” his throat felt dry, and he wished for water. Oh damn, why did something so trivial have to seem so important? Water wasn’t important, Cassidy was. And he had to pay attention to the matter at hand.
“No, it won’t,” she replied with the same tired voice. “It won’t ever be the same. It’ll all be played over, and we won’t have a chance. You know it, Butch. You must.”
Truthfully, he didn’t, but he also didn’t admit it. “One more chance…”
“No more chances,” she shook her head firmly, and he felt something inside of him begin to die.
She had meant it. She was through with him, was finished with true love. What she had said, she had honestly believed. Or at least thought she believed. So that was it, there was no more hope for it. “Than I suppose I’ll leave,” the words felt heavy in his dry mouth, and he found himself wishing that it could be different somehow, oh God, why couldn’t it be different?
“I’ll show you out,” Cassidy rose from her chair, and he followed to the door. When she opened it, he stepped out, than turned to look at her.


‘I think about you all the time,
But I don’t need the same.
It’s lonely where you are,
Come back down,
And I won’t tell your name.’

“Cassidy, I have to say it again,” he sighed, because he knew it would be useless. “I love you, and I won’t forget you… but if you don’t want me with you, than I can live with it… I think.”
They stared at each other momentarily, the porch light shining into their eyes dimly. He didn’t know what to say. All of his dreams had been crushed.
Throughout his time gone, she had been his hope, his guiding light. Now his light was out. While he had gone, it had been burnt, and would never work again. Maybe it would be replaceable, but maybe there would never be another that fit.
The thought was saddening, and he had to hold himself back against doing anything rash. He loved her. Christ, how could he still love her? After all that time, how could he still love her?
And how, just how had he been foolish enough to think that it would be all right in the end? How could he have been foolish enough to believe that everything would be the same?
Simple. Of course it was simple. It was because he had loved her. And he thought, somewhere deep in his mind, that it could be better once more. It could be better, he thought, because he still loved her.
She hadn’t replied and, after a moment’s hesitation, he spoke once more for the night. “If you ever change your mind… I mean, if you decide you can love, come back to me, Cass. Please, please come back.”
He waved with his fingers; she stood still, not replying with even a word or a gesture. It hurt him, but he decided to let it go. Maybe, just maybe, she would change her mind. He hoped so, he really hoped so.
The door closed, and he took one last look at her house. There was nothing more he could do at the time, nothing he could do to change what had happened. Much as he didn’t want to, he had to let time flow by itself.
Turning around, he took a deep breath. What he knew was that he loved her. What he knew was that he would give her another chance if she wanted one.
With that, he walked away into the night, a solitary figure in the darkness.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Woah, deja vu...

 

[Timarelay]

Hrm, to state the obvious, you posted Name twice. Another one that I've read before, but t'was good to re-read because I barely remembered it. ^_^ T'was good, but does seem like something you wrote a little while ago. Seems a little less polished than some of your other short fics. You know what's one of my favorites? "Don't wait for the sun" That was a good one. And also the one about... Matt I think, to the Nickelback song, about his family ^^ *misses Masquerade*