Me
by Samantha
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Joss owns them, lyrics are from
"Cannonball" by Damien Rice, the song rocks.
Notes: My Doushbag friend just met Mischa Barton in
the bathroom at a movie theater. I am annoyed.
Feedback: Please.
::There's still a little bit of your taste
in my mouth
there's still a little bit of your ghost
your weakness::
I never wanted it to be about me.
I knew how she felt, and I tried to stay away, tried to give her space to move on. But every time I looked at that face, every time she smiled, god I wanted it to last forever. I knew no one would understand it though, the way I felt about her. I mean, I didn’t even understand it.
Now I can feel all their eyes on me, I keep my eyes focused on the rose in my hand. They all saw the note, saw what she wrote, they all know why she did what she did. No one has been brave enough to ask me what was going on yet, but they all know. I never meant to kiss her.
I never meant to get that close to her, to pull her even closer, to be the one to kiss her. As soon as it happened, when I saw the look in her eyes, I knew what a mistake it was. There was real love in her eyes, something she always seemed too strong for. She licked her lips, and all I wanted to do was kiss her again, but instead I pushed away from her, starting the long road away.
It was the hurt in her eyes the next day when she saw me smile, it made me want to call it all off, admit to everyone what I was feeling and bear the consequences. But she was the strong one, the one who could stand up to the pressure, she would get over me.
I squeeze the rose, oblivious for a second to the pricks of a half dozen thorns. I look down at my hand in surprise, wondering if this was what she felt seeing her blood. It’s not scary, right now it’s reassuring. I’m still alive, still human. But on the other side, it’s a painful reminder of her being gone.
Angel takes my hand gently, but I pull away, not looking at him. I know he is blaming himself too. He never told me he saw her that night, didn’t mention the drinks at the bar. The way she looked, which apparently wasn’t great. I don’t know, he didn’t know where any of it was going, what I was doing behind his back, so really I still blame me more than him. And if he had known what was going on….
No I can’t think like that, he’s a good man and wouldn’t have done anything to push her over the edge even if he had known. Not that there was anything to know, nothing was going on, one kiss, one spectacular kiss, the end of everything for both of us apparently, the end of her life, the end of my sanity. Fuck it all.
I drop the rose on top of the casket they just lowered into the ground, wiping my bloody hand on my pants, they're black, no one will ever tell.
I turn, walking slowly away from the grave, all eyes are on me, no one even bothering to pretend not to look. I never meant for it to be about me.