God Hurts Those He Loves, Weiß Kreuz Dramatic Image Album II: The Eternal Angel
Written by Hibi Anri, Music & Arrangement by Nishioka Kazuya
Performed by Koyasu Takehito (Fujimiya Aya)
Romanization and translation by Jey Kama
Central seishi: Hotohori (Suzaku)
Fushigi Yuugi and all characters are property of Watase Yuu.
 

 
          Whispers in the dark and the soft grasping of hands. Pulling him towards oblivion and beyond as he gasped against that hot pulsing mouth and felt the bruising of lips on his own.
          "It's not…it's not."
          "Please."
          Sinking down into the blackness with the despair of knowing it would happen again. Surrending to the emptiness.
          "Do you love me?"
          Pleasure and pain, black and dripping like the blood of demons, running through his veins. They burned like hot coals. He could see red eyes in the vistas of his mind.
          "I…"
          As long as he didn't remember, it would be all right. As long as he forced the too vivid recollections to the back corner of his mind and built barricades upon barricades on top of them, shutting the demons in and not letting them escape. They hissed and squirmed in his mind, but he would not let them break free.
          It was the least he could do.
          "Do you love me?"
          Smooth flesh burning beneath his touch. Pure desire and dark consequence. A touch and a moan and a sharp breath.
          "Do you love me?"
          Ore wa...
          "Do you love me?"
          "Yes."
          No.

 
          He remembered the day he saw her, like a ghost from the past, ethereal form standing on the balcony, looking so small and lost and forlorn. It was a mockery. A pure mockery of what he had lost, when he had never had it to begin with.
          Lies, lies, all lies.
          And then she hadn't been what he thought she was, but he had taken her anyway because he wanted her. Not so much wanted her for herself but because it was a victory in his own eyes. All his life because he had never had anything to call his own, because he must be what was demanded of him. Because he had never taken anything for himself that someone else might have wanted. Giving the other party the first chance at it all, then picking through the rotting trash left thrown on the pile with the stink of neglect and waste, like a bony scavenger fiercely guarding its hoard of shriveled flesh.
          He had taken her.
          He was fiercely proud of that conquest. That yes, he too could be grasping and selfish like the others he had watched over his whole life. That yes, he too could have wishes and desires of his own.
          The others hadn't known that. But he too was human.
          He had never lost, because he had never possessed in the first place.
          Never.

 
          Lying there in the dark with slowing breathing and skin wet with sweat and the smell of sated pleasure and he closed his eyes wondering trying to bring up that one face and failing.
          "What's wrong?"
          Shaking his head. He couldn't recall the picture and he didn't know where the memories had gone.
          Yes he did. Behind that wall where the demons waited with jagged teeth and hungry fury. Behind that wall which he had sworn he would never break down because that was the past and this was the now. And he was a different man.
          "Tell me what's wrong. Please…"
          No, nothing's wrong. Only everything. You and him and them and everyone and the whole world is wrong. So damned wrong.
          He would never break down that wall. Never go back to the man he had been.
          He could die now, drowning in the depths of his own misery and loneliness, and no one would ever know, ever care.
          Because he wasn't like him. He had given everything away and had so little to show for it and still he continued to give as if nothing could stop the irrepressable laughter within him. He couldn't imagine why. How.
          For one who had never had anything, anyone to call his own.
          But he was such a weak and unworthy man and he could never in a hundred lifetimes aspire to what he had been. And so he gave in to the carnal desires of the flesh and the earthly ways and took what he wanted. He took her.
          She was his.

 
          He knew it was the wrong thing to do but he didn't care. She didn't matter, only him, his wants, his needs, his own raw urge for mocking pleasure.
          He knew she cried in the dark at night. For him. He supposed he should feel bad, but he couldn't feel anything anymore. Because he was a selfish and heartless demon who had tried to hide his whole life under the guise of love. And because he could no longer do so.
          He scrabbled at the rocks of the wall with his bare fingers, tearing the nails and drawing blood, hissing at the pain like the hiss of demons. He was one of them. He could tear the walls down.
          And they broke free and swarmed into his mind, landing with wings outspread and gazing with beady red eyes at his own pulsing, red heart that he held in his hands.
          Took it into their mouths and tore it apart.

 
          "Do you love me?"
          Holding her in the cold pre-dawn, feeling her warmth against his icy skin, hearing her drowy whisper as she curled up against him, seeking his comfort. As if he had any left to give.
          Yes, he was a gentle man. Yes, he was a kind man. A loving, serving, self-sacrificing shell of a man.
          "Do you love me?"
          He was broken.
          There is no such thing as love.
          "Give me your love..."
          No. I can't.
          I have nothing left to give.

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