Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Dead and Alive

She sat up in bed with a gasp. Jet black hair falling into bright green eyes that were widened in shock as she looked about her, breathing heavily. Moonlight filtered into the dark room through the glass windows, lighting up her pale face. With something between a sigh and a groan she let herself fall back into bed.

Just a dream...

Lying still for a while, an arm flung over her eyes, she found herself smiling. "Idiot", she muttered out loud, proceeding to sit up in bed and reach out for the small table by the bed. She picked up the pack of cigarettes and fished around in her pocket. Finding the lighter, she closed her eyes and lit the cigarette. A long drag and a moment later, she turned on a switch, flooding her room with pale blue light.

She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer and took another drag as she stared out the window at the dark night sky. And then she began to write...

Another letter you're never going to get.

God, I really need to stop.

Well, maybe this one last time...

It's late and I'm really tired, but I know I'm not going to fall asleep until I finish this... so may as well, yes?

...I dreamed of that day again...

...The funny thing is I saw her so much more clearly than I saw you.

What was she wearing?

I think it was red.

Must have been.

She looked the kind.

No, wait.

It was black.

I remember.

Though it isn't from the dream.

I always have this dream in black and white, which is a pretty funny way of describing it, coz everything is gray.

There is no white.

Not even in the clouds.

She paused here, a far away look on her face and ash accumulating at the edge of the almost-out cigarette. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, snapping her out of her reverie. She took another drag and stubbed the cigarette out on the wall. Shaking her head, she sighed to herself and then continued from where she had left off...

I wonder if you would have still left if I hadn't given you her message...

Before I knew who she was.

I think so.

Or I like to believe I think so.

I don't know.

But Bruce seems to think so.

He says she would have found you anyway.

I guess he's right.


I don't know what I would do without him.

After you... left, he was the only one who I could stand being around.

Everyone else bothered me.

Maybe that was because their eyes looked around for you, but none of the bastards had the courage to ask me where you had gone.

I wanted them to, you know?

It's funny, but it's true.

I wanted them to, so I could tell them about her.

And how you finally got what you wanted.

I mean, it's not like you ever promised me anything, is it?

It isn't like I ever asked for anything...

But God, I miss you.

HE had come by last night.

Just an errand, nothing more.

It always is.

We only meet when I need something from him, or he from me.

It works that way.

Or at least it used to...

It's funny that it's been a year since I met him... and I haven't written to you since...

Do I love him?

I don't know.

I don't think so.

I know he bothers me... and it's not just the stupid pointless arguments.

He's almost as tall as you, though his hair isn't that much of a mess.

He walks like you as well. Lazy long strides, looking not like you ruled the world, but like you didn't care who did.

He smiles as rarely as you did, preferring to look either smug, annoyed or as if there was nothing there at all.

I wouldn't call it blank. Maybe indifferent....

And his eyes... well, his eyes bother me the most.

Coz they're nothing like yours.

They're brown.

An honest trusting brown, nothing like the smirk he never fails to wear!

But... on the rare occasions he smiles, they twinkle... just like yours did...

and sometimes, when it's late, cold and dark... and there's no on around but us, he'll let me in.

Just a little.

He isn't like you on those nights.

He's real.

And he hurts.

And I can tell.

Not like you at all.

Not one bit.

But on those nights, they're not his eyes.

They are yours.

All I can remember is you asking me to look into your eyes while I begged you not to leave...

Every thing else fades...

And I remember why I have to stay away.

Why I don't love him.

Why I will not.

Why I can not.

Though... what I don't really know is if it's despite the fact that he reminds me so much of you... or because of it...


She put down the pen thoughtfully and picked up the lighter again. Lighting another cigarette, she leaned back and looked out the window to see the lightening sky. Another drag. It had now been two whole years. Two years since he marched off after that girl. And she still missed him.

Picking up her cell phone, she dialed an all-too-familiar number. As she waited, she picked up her lighter again, this time using it to set fire to the letter in her hand. It was a fitting goodbye. He had, after all, gotten exactly what he wanted. A
nd her? Well, she mused as she watched the flames eat away at the letter, She'd be okay. Possibly in love with a dead man, but okay nevertheless. Not just a dead man, she reminded herself, In love with a man who died chasing a dead love. Smiling sadly at her ceiling, she lay in bed, waiting for the phone to ring. She didn't know if she loved him, but she needed to hear his voice.

Halfway across the city, a man with tousled hair opened his brown eyes and blinked at his ringing phone. He smiled sleepily as he saw the name flash on screen.

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