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“It’s your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…”
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince.
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“Then it has done you no good at all!”
✖
Uruha smiles once Aoi leaves – with a bang, no less, as the older man slams the door in his exit. The frames that hung on the wall tremble a little.
Once upon a time Uruha had told himself not to let anybody in because it was the easiest way to self-destruction. Looking back at it now, he figured he should’ve listened to himself. The thing was, he never really listened, not even to himself.
He wanted to live as a man without regrets. He supposed it wasn’t his greatest idea that he clung to the first person who seemed keen to break down all his walls, without letting the rational side of his brain assess the situation first. To his defense, he was already getting tired of putting up barriers.
What Uruha didn’t expect was to fall so hard, though. Suddenly the world didn’t revolve in only himself and he was fine with that.
And so he gave even his world. He had always been someone who gave a hundred percent on whatever he did, after all, and never held back.
It was already too late when he realized it wasn’t really applicable in this situation.
Uruha crawls into his bed and lays there for a few hours. There are no lights inside the room and only the silence keeps him company. It’s so easy to think of things in such a setting, but the room still smelled of Aoi’s perfume.
The smile never really left his face.
He pulls himself up and slips on some fuzzy slippers, making his way to the balcony. The air is much more different; chilling, and it penetrates through the flimsy material of his shirt and shorts. His hands automatically rub on his arms.
Only high rise buildings can be seen from the horizon. Leaving a world with no stars but only lights – he figures it was fine. Anyway, it didn’t belong to him any longer.
Uruha hops on the ledge and finds that his feet barely fit. It’s a struggle to stand up but he does, with his hands raised sideways, trying to balance himself. But the cold wind blows, making him slip and the first thing to fall was one of his slippers.
And he jumps.
Clumsy until the end, he laughs, but that’s what he wanted all along anyway. His eyes close as the force of gravity pulls him and the cold autumn breeze pricks his skin like little pins.
He imagines the mess he’d make once he reaches the ground. The blood, the splattered bones. The missing slipper. It’s almost a reason to be sorry. But he isn’t.
He can’t. Not anymore.
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince.
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“Then it has done you no good at all!”
Uruha smiles once Aoi leaves – with a bang, no less, as the older man slams the door in his exit. The frames that hung on the wall tremble a little.
Once upon a time Uruha had told himself not to let anybody in because it was the easiest way to self-destruction. Looking back at it now, he figured he should’ve listened to himself. The thing was, he never really listened, not even to himself.
He wanted to live as a man without regrets. He supposed it wasn’t his greatest idea that he clung to the first person who seemed keen to break down all his walls, without letting the rational side of his brain assess the situation first. To his defense, he was already getting tired of putting up barriers.
What Uruha didn’t expect was to fall so hard, though. Suddenly the world didn’t revolve in only himself and he was fine with that.
And so he gave even his world. He had always been someone who gave a hundred percent on whatever he did, after all, and never held back.
It was already too late when he realized it wasn’t really applicable in this situation.
Uruha crawls into his bed and lays there for a few hours. There are no lights inside the room and only the silence keeps him company. It’s so easy to think of things in such a setting, but the room still smelled of Aoi’s perfume.
The smile never really left his face.
He pulls himself up and slips on some fuzzy slippers, making his way to the balcony. The air is much more different; chilling, and it penetrates through the flimsy material of his shirt and shorts. His hands automatically rub on his arms.
Only high rise buildings can be seen from the horizon. Leaving a world with no stars but only lights – he figures it was fine. Anyway, it didn’t belong to him any longer.
Uruha hops on the ledge and finds that his feet barely fit. It’s a struggle to stand up but he does, with his hands raised sideways, trying to balance himself. But the cold wind blows, making him slip and the first thing to fall was one of his slippers.
And he jumps.
Clumsy until the end, he laughs, but that’s what he wanted all along anyway. His eyes close as the force of gravity pulls him and the cold autumn breeze pricks his skin like little pins.
He imagines the mess he’d make once he reaches the ground. The blood, the splattered bones. The missing slipper. It’s almost a reason to be sorry. But he isn’t.
He can’t. Not anymore.
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