Work Text:
Still, the stench of our promises goes rancid by day.
Still, words left unsaid between us rot and decay.
And they still themselves, they still themselves six feet under me, with you, and from us.
I thought death would come with a lot of time. Death, in my eyes, was something that could wait, that could abide, abstain, maybe even pamper your postponement and await your full bloom. I thought death would wait for us to say everything we wanted to say.
To me, you were never death. You were always spring, aquiver with life despite your reluctance to show it. You had so much hope for life, despite how it had always beaten you down, again and again. To me, you were green, a beautiful, lush hue of green that graves could never grow. Death could mirror your soul and label it lifeless, but the colours of you would always bloom through its many shades of gray and black. The colours of you have always blotted out the pain for me, much more efficaciously than all the lights of Tokyo.
Why did you become so colourless, so cold to me? You were so alive in my eyes.
"I hold the world but as the world, a stage where every man has to play a part, and mine a sad one."
I'm so sad, Fushiguro.
I'm so sorry I couldn't save you this time, Fushiguro.
I want to be more than this man that I am right now. Really, I could be even stronger for you, I could spill my love all over your grave because my heart is so full when it comes to you. I really could be more than this. I could really save you this time, why won't you let me?
You left my heart here to rot. Rot because we were something so sweet and full of life in my eyes, and now we have gone rancid just like this. Rot because I now carry the remnants of your whiff in the form of grief with me everywhere I go, you are both the best and the worst part of me, and you have permanently stained me all over. There was so much, so, so much that had gone wrong between us, like a piece of fruit left to rot, just like an overdue, barren tangerine left uneaten on the kitchen table, reeking of regrets between us. For we reeked of an unfinished kiss, reeked of an undone confession, reeked of an unfinished ending.
And I reek of you.
Do you reek of me too? When you are six feet under, please tell the maggots about me. When you decompose and the bugs and maggots reach your mouth one by one, will they eat every word you had left unsaid to me? And when they reach your ribs, will they finally discover every bit of love you were afraid to confess to me? And will the abundance of the love that you had carried finally satiate their gnawing hunger?
It's been so lonely without you, Fushiguro.
I remember when we used to call each other names. Oh, I could call you every name in the world now, but it's less funny now that you're not here to hit the back of my neck every time I call you names. Or when I crack an awfully unfunny joke. I'd tell you a joke right now, but neither of us would laugh, and you know why.
I thought I had more than enough time to crack more unfunny jokes to you, Fushiguro. I really thought we did, and I wanted more time too. I wanted to sit in a chair next to you to hear you say every word you wanted to say. I wanted to listen to you. I had so much to say too, and I know you'd listen - the silent, observant, and caring person you were. In another universe, we said every word we wanted to say, but this is the only universe, and in this, I'm sorry.
Why would you do this? I'm so sorry for saying this, it’s not your fault, really, if anything it's mine, I just couldn't see facts through my fury. But I’m so mad, Fushiguro, you made my world full of you, and then you left. Did you really think your absence could make me abstain from thinking of you? I cannot comprehend a life that has no you in it. I am you before I am me.
I still see your eyes when I close my eyes for too long. Your eyes, they’re still and unblinking, can you believe that? I still can't.
I love you.
I'll see you later.