All the seasons shall be the same

Because you do not smile at me

With your forgiveness;

Every day shall be the same

Because you do not come to sit

Beside me on my bench.

All the tales that I shall hear

Shall be the same because

Your lips are silent.

And until I see your smile, feel

Your nearness, and hear your voice—

Storms will rage against my world;

The days shall stretch unendingly

Like my pain;

No music shall reach my ears

Sweeter than your voice,

Which I have lost.


"I'm getting tired, Matt." The weariness on Powell's voice was more than genuine. The dim light of the room cast shadows on the walls, the shade hiding his eyes, emerald eyes that were darker than any night.

"What are you talking about?" Exasperation can be heard, adding to the disdainfulness of the air.

"Here you go again." Powell was weak; all of him, even his words, too tired to even make out a cadence that was normal enough.

"What is your problem?" Matt's brows creased to what seems is a frown. Anyone can tell that he's getting aggravated.

"You fucking slept with her last night!" Green eyes were burning with rage that can no longer be suppressed. Pain, anger and sorrow made their presence known to the credulous. Olive eyes were already swimming in tears, but barely enough to stain his bronze cheeks. Anger and disbelief clouded his vision and strangled his throat.

"So?" Impassive…indifferent…yet so accustomed to the ears of his lover.

"Bastard…I lie on your bed when you feel like fucking, take in your coldness if you don't. If you thought living in the shadows is painful enough—"


"Shut up." he wouldn't let him talk it out just then. "Suppose I should even be grateful that a god like you would even bother to kiss me. If it was only for the goddamn sex, why didn't you just leave me before I…fell in love with you? If it isn't, why couldn't you even say it? Simple, right? But you couldn't do it…because you don't love me. You really don't." The pain stabbed through his chest like a sharp knife, cutting through his heart. The truth can really be painful.

"But—" he was once again silenced by his lover's bitter words.

Mocking laughter tore its way past through Powell's pale lips. Self-mockery, grief, self-pity-the worst crash of emotions. "I am really an idiot, ne? Thinking that you could fall in love with me." Anguish and torment was tearing his heart apart, shattering it into fallen pieces.

"Ai shiteru." Flat. Toneless. Blank. Just as he'd always expected from the blonde.

"Don't bother." Powell turned away and stalked towards the door. He'd have to go, before he broke down into a pathetic, disgusting mess right then and there. "I'm leaving." But as he began to head for it, strong, slender fingers gripped his hand.


"Daisuki da." He retrieved his hand and walked out the door, sliding it back into place quietly. Matt stood against it as he left, face devoid of any emotion. The light reflected silvery blond locks of hair covering his face as his gaze turned to the stone ground; he could hear a knock on the room beside his.

"Kelly, I'm leaving tomorrow…"

"What?" Kelly's scarlet eyes widened in disbelief.

"I'm leaving."

"Why?" an uncertain smile. She thought for some reason it was only a joke. A very bad joke.

His eyes were starting to well at the remembrance of the previous exchange. He hid them in a very cheerful-looking smile, under his lids. It never fails, somehow. "Nothing to worry about, Kelly-chan. I just want to breathe some fresh air."

There were other incoherent words he heard, but enough was said. He's leaving.

Matt looked at himself in the mirror on his dresser. Yes, he is beautiful…before his own eyes, as well as the eyes of others. He looked at the beautiful cobalt eyes, then put his hand on the side of his face and stroked his smooth ivory skin of his cheek. Unconsciously, he touched the reflection of his beautiful face in the mirror with the same hand.

Strange…it left a smear on the mirror's face… a mark definitely caused by damp fingers…

Powell returned to his room immediately. He couldn't bear to lose himself among those prying eyes. But…how could he lose himself then? Crying? But he couldn't remember the last time he did…maybe he couldn't… After all that he's been through, maybe tears have already betrayed him. That bastard he just left is not an exception.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd go because of Kelly." A voice from within the black of the murky space called out to him, a shadow lurking by a dark corner.


"Good evening, Powell." And then emerged a tall shadowy figure, with melted cobalt eyes and silvery blond hair.



"I'm sorry… that's not my name."

"A…Daisuke…gomen nasai."

"Iie… I know how you must be feeling about him."

"What are you talking about?" Talk about faked innocence.

"Oh, c'mon, you know better than to hide from me."

A weak smile. "How did…?"

"I know a lot of things, Powell."

So it's been settled. No more pretensions just for now. Powell seated himself at the edge of his bed, covered with a plain, pure white, so unlike the harsh world he's gotten into. Daisuke settled a distance from him.

"Guess I'm just who I really am in your eyes, huh? Go ahead; tell me I'm pathetic. Tell me how dirty I am. Tell me I'm just a useless piece of shit and that you don't give a damn if I go to Hell right now."

"You really don't know me, do you?" Daisuke looked out through the small gap of the window, from where the light of the moon pours itself into the cold room, even though how narrow. "So what do you want to do now?"

"Wakaranai…something tells me I want to lose hold, even just for now…maybe I can rest if I do."

It was almost morning. Daisuke had been watching Powell swig a glass of alcohol, followed by another, and another 'til he lost count. Earlier Powell was talking about less significant matters about his life years before, his many times of love and loss of the crimson-eyed girl, struggles of his young mercenary soul found in the battlefield of the preservers and the destroyers… But then as he gave up more and more to the spirit of drunkenness, words came seething from his lips like saccharine syrup. Things that occupied his mind, all about Matt and how they came to be, and how they came not to be.

"My head was spinning when I saw Matt leaving Kelly's room this morning. Kelly had a phonecall, and, you know, I thought it was urgent because of the time, so I went to wake her up and all…" Powell's eyes were already drowsing. "…But I saw her lying naked on the bed, damn, I almost went mad out of my nerves—what else could have looked like it? And man, Matt didn't even deny it a bit."

Daisuke's eyes were filled with contemplation and sympathy. He looked and listened without doubt and any sign of refusal, eventhough their conversation was getting harder-more painful to listen to.

"I should have known I wasn't important to him from the start… sure, his fingers needs something to fondle with, his skin needs something to touch it, his lips needs something to kiss, his mouth needs something to sink into, his cock needs something to fuck, but hell—anyone could have given that to him. To think that I've first noticed him years ago…man, I was so stupid…I loved him and he…he only saw me as his toy…his pastime…and I let him…I can't believe I let him actually order me to his bed and come in to my ass any night and every night he wants to…I'm really so stupid, man…I let him make me his whore…to think that he doesn't pay for my services…damn."

Daisuke's sapphire eyes couldn't have deceived him. It was really a tear that traced its misery down the man's cheek. But that was all. Nothing had followed its agonizing path. It was only a lone tear…like the man who possesses the eyes it had derived upon, so lonely…so alone.

Powell whisked the tear away with harsh fingers. He couldn't believe that he shed a precious thing for a man that didn't mean anything to him then…a man that he didn't want to mean anything to him then, after all he's done to him.

The glass crashed into its cold grave, its shattered pieces scattered hopelessly on the stone floor, like the heart and soul of a certain 'bitch'.

"I never really felt his warmth."

"Go rest now." Daisuke had laid Powell on the couch; he had too much to drink. He couldn't take him to his room because he knew they were both already too tired. He was gracing a damp cloth on Powell's face, even to lessen the headache expected when he wakes up. That's the least he can do.

"Oh, c'mon, you gotta sleep, too, man…"

A frail smile came to his lips. "It's good that you decided not to go." He whispered, trying not to interrupt Powell's rest.

"Nah, I'll only be staying for three months more on Kelly's request, then I'll be on my way." He closed his eyes. "You always see to it that Kelly gets everything she needs and everything she wants, ne? Arigato…oyasumi…"

Daisuke headed back to his room after Powell had gone to sleep. He seemed like in deep thought as he walked through the dark corridor.

Just then, he halted in his tracks.

"What do you want?" Under the shadows, his eyes were gleaming like blue flames.

"So…he'll go?" A silhouetted figure appeared to be leaning on the wall just beside Daisuke. He was just standing there, stationary.

"Why do you ask? He said you don't give a damn about him." He just faced straight to nothing, not even bothering to look at the one he's speaking to.

"Oh, c'mon, don't start with me."

Silence. Quiet steps.

"Three months." He closed the door.