What would you do if I told you I loved you?

What a stupid question.

I know what you would do.

You would follow two simple steps: you would have passionate sex with me, and you would leave the next morning.

How do I know this, you ask?

Well. I was stupid enough to find out firsthand.

It should have been as casual as I made it out to be. I entered your bedroom (through the window, of course…I never much liked your mother), as I sometimes do, and sat on your bed beside you. You smiled in your casual way and asked me the reason for such a pleasantly unexpected visit. I said I had something I meant to tell you.

"What is it?" you asked in your genial way. My nerves fluttered at the sound of your voice.

I told you in simple terms.

"I love you."

You started and nearly fell from the bed.

You stuttered and awkwardly laid your books aside. I smirked inwardly that I had found three simple words that could strip away your elegant composure so quickly.

You said something akin to "What?"

I repeated myself clearly, unabashed and unruffled by the admission, and you seemed to regain a little of your poise. Long minutes of discussion went by, mainly used, I suspect, for you to completely rearrange yourself. My smirk never quite went away.

Some things passed between us, something like the reasons I loved you so and the admission that you loved me too. This made me glow inside, as do most revelations of requited love.

Only when I stop to think about it…

I realize what a fool I was.

As I now hate myself for not predicting, you followed protocol with me. Wild sex, only to leave in the morning. The worst part of it, though, is that you played me. You made me think you really did love me, too. For once in my worthless life, someone really loved me, and I would be accepted for who I was…

What a fool.

You warned me.

Hundreds of times before, you warned me. You never thought it would mean anything, because you never thought it was possible that I, of all people, would love. But you told me of your past, and you told me you would invariably leave any lover you ever had. I nodded in acceptance every time. It was nothing new.

Love is a stupid thing that way.

Having never experienced it before, I had no idea what to do with it, or how to confront it, defeat it, banish it to Hell. I went about it the only way I could think of, and look where it got me.

Wallowing in a hovel, sitting on the ground, beating on the walls, because I was an idiot.

Damn my love.

Damn you.

Damn it all.

Only when I stop to think about it…

I didn't love you.

Not at all.

I loved the pretty mask of a person who was never meant to be.

I loved Rei.

But how could I not? Everyone loved Rei. He was perfect. He was different, they said. He was special, they said. He was gifted, they said.

They were wrong. They were all wrong.

They never saw the marks on your arms. They never saw how everyone beat you when you asked them to. They never saw how I beat you when you asked me to. They never saw how your mother left you for dead on the sidewalk and said, "Rei, I'll be back soon. Just wait here." They don't know how long you waited. They don't know. None of them know.

But how could I make them see? Impossible. I would never give away your secret and you know it. I may despise you and wish for you to die, but I would never give away your secret.

Just another way I'm a sentimental idiot.

Funny thing to think me. Sentimental.

But I am, in my stupidity, sentimental towards you. I think it's because I loved you.

Except that I didn't, really.

I'm a sentimental fool because I experienced the illusion of love for an illusion of a person. How bitterly ironic.

I was told, once, long ago, that love did that to people. Made them romantic idiots with minds only for their loved ones. I never believed it could happen to me; I would never be so stupid. Never so unguarded. Never.

Especially not for some figment of my imagination.

But I did become a sentimental fool for you, and so I thought I was in love.


But life is cruel that way, and life is not forgiving. And I will never be given a chance to rectify my errors, horrible as they were.

Why, you ask? Because I am a black soul long sentenced to extinction, and because of that, I've given up on everything.

Yes, everything. I no longer care to wipe clean my tattered slate. I no longer care if I am to be sentenced to eternal damnation. It simply doesn't matter anymore.

Because I've given up. Because I don't care. Because I'm not looking for anything. Because anything I might have wanted is beyond me.

Only when I stop to think about it…

It's all because of you.

Before you, if I can remember…

I was almost…dare I say it…happy.

My loved ones were within arm's reach. My allies were loyal and strong. My boss was reasonable. My best friend was kind and caring.

My life was…good.

Then you came along with your overpowering darkness of the fox in the face of struggling light of the human and you screwed me over beyond comprehension. My mother constantly asked me if I was all right, my allies were too distracted by my furious confusion to fight perfectly, my boss considered firing me if I couldn't clear up whatever inner turmoil I was combating.

My best friend…

Well, my best friend.

…He was not a friend at all.

Regressing back to his nature, my best friend…forgot how to be a friend.


Knowing you were destroying my life, you continued to toy with me and make me feel worthy. All because of a stupid thing I tried to call love.

I hate you.

There is little in all three worlds I hate more than betrayal. Cruelly ironic, as most of my life is, when you take into account the number of times I have betrayed those who trust me. But when I take the risk to fully place my trust in another, and that trust is betrayed… Well, I can't ever forgive the bastard who betrayed me.

And that's you.

And I hate you.

Only when I stop to think about it…

I still love the illusion you tried to be.

And why is that, you might ask? After all I've said, after all the times I've told you I hate you and want you to die, how can I still care for the illusion I mistook for true love?

It's all quite simple.

Life plays sinful games with us all, and the one chosen for me is that of love and lies.

Love the lies.

Lie for love.

Wicked paradox.