Three Letters
folder
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,072
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,072
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Three Letters
Three Letters
By Kami-chan
Fandom: Weiss Kruez
Pairing: Yohji/Ran
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi, DEATH, depression, and other such unpleasantries.
Disclaimer: Don’t own Weiss Kruez, not making money off the story.
Notes: This was an assignment for Health class, believe it or not. I’m rather pleased with the finished product. Didn’t take long to write either. I got really depressed and weepy while writing it though. So R/R and tell me what you think, okay?!
***
“Three letters took him to his final resting place.” –TLC, ‘Waterfalls’
I never imagined I’d be burying him.
Yohji was always a beautiful person; the very vision of perfect masculinity. He was so lovely; long, wavy locks of dirty gold and lightly bronzed flesh to match. His muscles moved flawlessly beneath that perfect flesh, piercing emerald eyes fixing me with such an intense gaze. Those eyes… gods, I could never resist those eyes.
But those eyes were closed now; closed for an eternity of slumber. Gazing down into the black-enameled casket, I couldn’t help the thought that crept unbidden into my mind: This is not my Yohji. It couldn’t possibly be my Yohji. The thing in this coffin – this hideous corpse – looked nothing like him. The still body was emaciated, as if he hadn’t eaten so much as a scrap in months past. So pale it was, with sunken cheeks and dark, tired circles beneath the once-captivating eyes.
The past few years had not been kind to either of us. He had finally convinced me of my sexuality; convinced me that it was fine for one man to love another man. He had finally coaxed me into loving him, as one coaxes a frightened kitten out from hiding. Of all those women he’d been with, all those sexual favors performed under the guise of romance – he said all he’d ever truly wanted was me.
I didn’t think much of it at the time. When one’s mind is clouded with love and lust, the more sensible thoughts do not often surface. I knew perfectly well the risk that was involved; knew that he had to have contracted something in his promiscuity. I knew that so much of this agony could have been avoided, had I only made him use protection. But his words and emotions clouded my mind like a fairy tale would. I was trapped in a Yohji-crafted reverie.
That being said, ‘positive’ is sometimes the most horrific word that a person can hear. By the time I forced him to see a doctor, it was too late for either of us. Our love had been exchanged a thousand times over. His white count was already below 400, and both our fates were sealed. It was clear that he would soon be in the grave, leaving me behind to suffer both the pain of his loss, and the complications of our condition. Three little letters brought so much torment.
Too quickly, his count dropped below 200, and the three letters turned to four. He could scarcely lift himself from bed, and when he did it was with a wince and no end of pained groaning. The opportunistic diseases ate away at him one by one, and no amount of medicine could help him any longer. The man that I fell in love with was slowly fading into a skeleton, and all I could do was watch and weep. I wept only for him, even as my own health worsened.
And so we waned together, until one morning I woke to find his breath still. I laid by his side for a long while, refusing to let his stiff arms be taken from around me, head hanging on his cold shoulder as I felt my soul shrivel into nothing within me.
Now, as I gaze down at my own frail hands, I’m fully aware of the seriousness of my own mortality. I too will soon be gone, and I’m all too happy to accept that beautiful release. Without my lover, there is nothing to live for anymore, even if I could.
I bend to kiss him one last time - that shell of the man I love – and turn away from the gaudy neon cross. This tiny funeral was too modern, too cold and simple to represent the life of the perfect man. I leave without further sound, luridly red hair falling limply around my face; deserting his casket to the empty chapel, just as he’s deserted me to this empty world.
~~* End *~~
By Kami-chan
Fandom: Weiss Kruez
Pairing: Yohji/Ran
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi, DEATH, depression, and other such unpleasantries.
Disclaimer: Don’t own Weiss Kruez, not making money off the story.
Notes: This was an assignment for Health class, believe it or not. I’m rather pleased with the finished product. Didn’t take long to write either. I got really depressed and weepy while writing it though. So R/R and tell me what you think, okay?!
***
“Three letters took him to his final resting place.” –TLC, ‘Waterfalls’
I never imagined I’d be burying him.
Yohji was always a beautiful person; the very vision of perfect masculinity. He was so lovely; long, wavy locks of dirty gold and lightly bronzed flesh to match. His muscles moved flawlessly beneath that perfect flesh, piercing emerald eyes fixing me with such an intense gaze. Those eyes… gods, I could never resist those eyes.
But those eyes were closed now; closed for an eternity of slumber. Gazing down into the black-enameled casket, I couldn’t help the thought that crept unbidden into my mind: This is not my Yohji. It couldn’t possibly be my Yohji. The thing in this coffin – this hideous corpse – looked nothing like him. The still body was emaciated, as if he hadn’t eaten so much as a scrap in months past. So pale it was, with sunken cheeks and dark, tired circles beneath the once-captivating eyes.
The past few years had not been kind to either of us. He had finally convinced me of my sexuality; convinced me that it was fine for one man to love another man. He had finally coaxed me into loving him, as one coaxes a frightened kitten out from hiding. Of all those women he’d been with, all those sexual favors performed under the guise of romance – he said all he’d ever truly wanted was me.
I didn’t think much of it at the time. When one’s mind is clouded with love and lust, the more sensible thoughts do not often surface. I knew perfectly well the risk that was involved; knew that he had to have contracted something in his promiscuity. I knew that so much of this agony could have been avoided, had I only made him use protection. But his words and emotions clouded my mind like a fairy tale would. I was trapped in a Yohji-crafted reverie.
That being said, ‘positive’ is sometimes the most horrific word that a person can hear. By the time I forced him to see a doctor, it was too late for either of us. Our love had been exchanged a thousand times over. His white count was already below 400, and both our fates were sealed. It was clear that he would soon be in the grave, leaving me behind to suffer both the pain of his loss, and the complications of our condition. Three little letters brought so much torment.
Too quickly, his count dropped below 200, and the three letters turned to four. He could scarcely lift himself from bed, and when he did it was with a wince and no end of pained groaning. The opportunistic diseases ate away at him one by one, and no amount of medicine could help him any longer. The man that I fell in love with was slowly fading into a skeleton, and all I could do was watch and weep. I wept only for him, even as my own health worsened.
And so we waned together, until one morning I woke to find his breath still. I laid by his side for a long while, refusing to let his stiff arms be taken from around me, head hanging on his cold shoulder as I felt my soul shrivel into nothing within me.
Now, as I gaze down at my own frail hands, I’m fully aware of the seriousness of my own mortality. I too will soon be gone, and I’m all too happy to accept that beautiful release. Without my lover, there is nothing to live for anymore, even if I could.
I bend to kiss him one last time - that shell of the man I love – and turn away from the gaudy neon cross. This tiny funeral was too modern, too cold and simple to represent the life of the perfect man. I leave without further sound, luridly red hair falling limply around my face; deserting his casket to the empty chapel, just as he’s deserted me to this empty world.
~~* End *~~