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Regrets
It comes easily to me now, the regret and guilt, as many things do in hindsight. Pain and tiredness are also part of the mix, realized only fully the day I finally drove him away, into the arms of another. But there's something else as well, a familiar feeling I've now come to hate. It's because of this that he's not by my side, that his ring is not on my finger and mine on his. It's because of my anger that I doomed myself to defeat that day. That rage pushed away the one constant I had in my life, my anchor to reality.
My throat tightens up as I see him with his wife, laughing about something. The mix of voices rings clearly in the morning air, the sparkling female laugh contrasting, yet harmonizing with, his deeper, mellower chuckle. The sound makes my heart contract in my chest. It should be my voice laughing with his, not . . . hers. But I gave up that chance, on that day.
Oh Kami, he saw me.
It's been 10 years since he married, and still that old flare of pain knifes through my heart at the sight of his smile. How can it not, when seeing that easygoing grin used to send my spirits soaring?
Kuso, he's bringing his wife.
Her dark hair is now stylishly trimmed in an off the shoulder bob, unadorned, unlike how it used to be, yet beautiful in the simplicity of the cut. Her dark eyes light up when she sees me as a smile has similar effects with her face. I wish I could say the same of me, but I can't. I can't.
Whenever I see her, I have to restrain my hands from creeping out, grasping her by that slim white neck, squeezing slowly, enjoying the look of pain and fear on her face, but no. I force the feelings down, because of him and him only. She was there for him when I wasn't. She was there when I passed the point of no return, driving him forever out of my life. She made him happy while I didn't that day, when I stomped away, leaving him standing there with the hurt and betrayal clear in his deep blue eyes.
She still does. For that, because of that, I can't do anything.
For 10 years I've nursed my pain, not forgiving myself after I realized what I'd done. I've never moved on, never loved another, though I've had numerous proposals. Even Ryouga came to me, knees quaking, a blush spreading across his face as he handed the single red rose to me, the elegantly scripted card proclaiming his love.
I smashed him through the window.
There is no malice in that blissful smile she directs at me. Of course there isn't. I sent my fiancé into her arms. I'm the reason they're together. I'm the reason she won that contest, 10 years ago.
I didn't attend the wedding, of course; I was sedated so I wouldn't go ballistic or something. Shampoo certainly did. After a brief stint in jail, she stopped trying to get him to marry her. Last I heard, she and Mousse have three kids already, thankfully none of them cursed with his father's sight. Ryouga is in a state institution, being treated for the depression and pain caused by my rejection. Another thing for me to feel guilty for.
Oh gods, that smile, those eyes, they make me want to melt where I stand.
He steps up to me. For a moment we just look at each other, as memories of times past, experiences shared, now experiences lost, flow through my mind, dancing tantalizingly in front of my eyes, images from a better part of our lives.
Then the silence is broken, by a rough, haggard voice that issues from my throat, but I don't recognize as my own.
"Hello, Ranchan."
"Hello, Ucchan."
~owari~
Notes: Well, who saw that coming? And if you did, congratulate yourself; I was hoping to get an Akane-like viewpoint across, with Ukyou as the successful fiancée . . .