Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Same ❯ Chapter 1

The Same

This is a depressing little tangent I thought of, based on a friend's poetry...

You sit on the riverbank, watching the fireflies, waiting.

When the last strands of blood fade from the horizon, and the path is cloaked in night, he will come to you.

He will come to you, and there will be things.

He always brings you many things.

He brings you soft words, and gentle caresses.

He brings you tender lips and warm skin.

He brings you the illusion of passion.

He brings tears to your eyes, with his low, rumbling voice...

And he brings you memories.

Memories of your previous encounters.

Memories of why you wait for him here, nearly ever night, for him to come and bring you things.

The Memory of the day you met, and the way he looked at you.

The Memory of the feelings this ignited, and the way you looked at him.

The Memories of how you thought that it would be.

You can lie to yourself when you are with him.

You can fool yourself into believing it's all right.

But alone, you know the truth.

You know.

But when he comes to you, bringing his words, and his lips, and his hands. you can lie.

You can tell yourself that it is real.

You can fool yourself into believing that he means the words that he forms with his lips and confides with his hands.

That it is all true, and he does need you, and he does want you, and it's all because he loves you and its not just sex!

It's not just sex.

But alone, you know.

And you know that he knows it, and that you know it, too...

He knows that when he says "I love you" its just because you expect it, not because you believe it. But because you need it, he says it just so that you will let him touch you.

And that is all he loves: To touch you.

He needs the intimacy, and the closure, and the feel of skin on skin. He needs to own you, and to claim you, and to have you, and to take you, because it means he owns you, and he has you, and that for once in his life, he is the one in control.

And when you're with him, you can both pretend that its not true, that he really does love you, and that its not just sex.

Its not just sex.

But afterwards, as he holds you, you both know.

. . .

You hear him behind you for the first time, just as his arms close around your waist.

You can feel the muscles in his arms, and the warmth of his skin, and his heartbeat in his chest, as his lips caress your throat.

And he whispers the pretty words, and you believe them, because you need them, and he's there.

And he asks you for permission, which you give him, because it's what *he* needs. And you lie to yourself and pretend that you want it, too, because you think you should. And you can believe it, because you honestly want to, and you both know he probably wouldn't stop anyway, even if permission was denied.

But its all right, because he loves you...

And it's not just sex.

It's not just sex.

. . .

And while you lay there, spent, in his arms, you shiver, but not with cold.

The illusion is fading again, and you both feel it. But he whispers the words again, anyway, and you both know the truth.

The passion is gone, and the maybes, too, and all you have are the scraps of your friendship and the lies.

And you know and he knows that tomorrow night will find you here waiting...

Because it's still the same.

. . .

Bad love is like a cup of coffee

It always starts out hot

But then you have to sweeten it by adding

New things

You add so much you can't

Add anymore

Then it starts getting cold

Reheated coffee is never the same

. . .

"Expresso" by Mike McDougal

04/22/02