Warnings: none
Pairings: 1+2/2+1, 3+4/4+3
Author: Arigatomina
Email: arigatoumina@hotmail.com
Archive: www.fanfiction.net
Is This Real?
Part 1
***Journal Entry***
June 8
I don't know why I'm writing this. I've never kept record of my life and never had reason too. With the things that have happened in the last four days, however, I've decided that I might be going crazy. If that is the case, then I want to leave record for Trowa. We've been friends since we were ten, I owe him this. It was my idea to move to a remote location. This island was my choice. How was I to know it would drive me crazy? I thought it would do us good to be away from the chaos of others. I thought this would help our souls to heal. I guess I was wrong.
At first, things went as I'd thought they would. We built a cabin, shipping in parts with the money we got when we sold our souls to the war. It was hard work. It was invigorating nonetheless. Finally, after a month of sleeping in tents, the cabin, or house as the case may be, was finished. It was then, when I had nothing to occupy my time, that I started to explore this island that was our home.
It was uninhabited. This much was assured by the man who sold it to us. No one had lived here for a century or more. The island is small, relatively circular. I could walk across it in half a day. It was while I was exploring the beach that I first started to doubt my sanity. I've always been a cold, methodical person. I know this. I don't take things at face value, I find out how they work and use them to my advantage. I'm good at this. Yet the things I've seen in the last four days make me wonder if I've lost my grip on reality. I guess I should get to the point. If I'm not quick, Trowa will stop reading. If he has to turn to this journal. If I am going insane. Then he will read. I can only hope I'm wrong and that what I have seen and continue to see is real. If that is the case, however, then reality is not what I've been taught. Either way, I'm likely to go crazy.
Four days ago, while I was exploring the beach two miles north of the house, I saw something. Trowa was not with me, he doesn't do much anymore. I often wonder if he's gone insane as well. He simply sits all day, playing his music and reading. Maybe he is finally at peace. As for me, I was exercising. Since giving up my beloved laptop at the end of the war, I've turned to physical exertion to keep me occupied. For this reason, I was walking down the beach when I saw it. When I saw him.
At first, I wondered if it wasn't some animal. There are forests in the center of the island. I still don't know what kind of animals may live there. Thinking it was an animal, I froze and moved with the stealth I used to excel at. There are large rocks, or boulders, on the beach. They provided cover for me as I approached the dark thing that perched on the top of a similar boulder, far enough down the beach for the sun to prevent me from telling it's shape. It was once I'd drawn closer that I had my first moment of self-doubt.
The sun was still bright, and it sparkled on the person's long, golden-brown hair. Yes, I saw a person on the beach. On the beach of this island. An island that has been bare of people for over a century. Being an extremely logical person, I soon came to the conclusion that our realtor had lied to us. Either that, or someone had come to the island without his knowledge. It was then, as I made up my mind to confront the person, that it started to get dark, the sun hidden behind clouds. So engrossed in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed. It started to rain, and I looked from the sky and falling drops to the person.
There was no one there.
This may not seem strange if one hasn't seen the island. The beach is yards from the nearest forest. The boulders not high enough to hide a standing person. Yet the beach was empty except for myself. I had not looked away for more than a few short seconds. So set was I in the belief that I had no imagination to play tricks on me, that I even scanned the ocean. But tide was out. Even if some one was quick enough to reach the water before I looked back, there was no one that I could see. This was when I first began to suspect the deterioration of my mind.
I said nothing to Trowa when I returned, dripping water onto the hard wooden floor of our house. He'd made dinner, and I ate as if nothing had happened. Which, unless I saw a vanishing person, is true. Nothing did happen. Nothing except my seeing something impossible. I said nothing to Trowa. And I said nothing to him the next day when I returned at sunrise to the same spot on the beach.
I was careful in my approach. If I was sane, if the person was real and there again, I had no intention of looking away. Even for a second. I had to know. If I was crazy, I had to know. As is said, I had begun to doubt myself even then.
I approached carefully, silently, and I was not disappointed. The figure was there again, reclining on the same boulder, in almost the same position as the day before. I watched for a few minutes, but the person didn't move. Certain that I wasn't crazy after all, I decided to force a confrontation. After all, the island belonged to Trowa and me. It was ours. Our home.
I made no effort to hide my approach. I stood up abruptly, waiting. Sure enough, the person turned to face me. My first thought was that he was out of a dream. The long hair had led me to believe it was a girl. It wasn't. He had large, violet eyes that seemed to fill his heart-shaped face as he stared at me in surprise. Then his expression dropped, and he turned his back to me again. I didn't know how to react. He was ignoring me. I wasn't going to take it. I got angry, and when I get angry, I get dangerous.
I approached him rapidly, hands clenched into fists. I wasn't planning on violence. I was just angry at...I don't know why I was so angry. But I was. I stalked to the boulder, not stopping until I stood in front of him. His eyes, his wide eyes widened more as he saw me, but he looked away again. As if I was of no consequence to him. I yelled at him. I demanded he tell me who he was and how he'd gotten on the island. I waited for his answers while his face turned a shocking shade of white. I was unprepared when he abruptly leapt off the rock, running toward the forest.
I have lightening reflexes. I was trained well for my part in the war, and I hadn't lost those skills. I was after him immediately. I gained on him. I was confident of catching him. Then he reached the edge of the forest and disappeared.
Yes, I think I am going crazy.
I searched the forest. I searched it carefully, it wasn't a large forest. I didn't find anything. No person, no signs of any people. Nothing.
Once again, I returned home to hide my experiences from Trowa. I was filled with self-doubt now. Still fighting it, I was uncertain. I still don't know how to handle such emotions. I said nothing to Trowa. I barely slept that night. If I hadn't been determined to keep Trowa from suspecting anything, I wouldn't have eaten. As it was, I acted normal. Normal for me, anyway. And as soon as the sun started to rise, I made my way down the beach again.
I am unable to describe the mixed feelings that went blazing through me when I saw him again. In the same spot. I didn't want a repeat performance of the previous day, so I stayed hidden. I spent hours hidden by a boulder yards from where he sat, reclining on his own boulder, staring at the ocean. During the long hours of that day, I saw him move twice. Once, he placed a hand on his forehead and bent over, drawing his knees to his chest. He stayed like this for a minute at most, then he was back in his previous position. The second time he moved was when it had started to get dark. The sun almost to the horizon. This time, he jerked abruptly, looking over his shoulder at the forest I'd chased him into the day before. Smiling, he nodded his head and hopped, yes hopped, off the boulder. Walking quickly, he moved to the edge of the forest. The moment he stepped beneath the trees, he disappeared.
Seeing this in writing is....frightening? No, I'm not afraid. I don't think I've ever been afraid. Rather, it makes me realize that the chances of my *not* being crazy are very slim. Then, on the next day, yesterday, I went back.
Again, I watched. For hours, I watched him sitting. Then, as I made up my mind to confront him again, a new element entered what I now call my madness. Another figure appeared at the edge of that forest. As it neared the boy on the rock, I saw that it was another boy. One with pale, short blonde hair. He approached the one on the rock, smiling slightly as the other boy turned to look at him. From where I crouched, I heard nothing. Yet I saw. I saw the longhaired boy nod his head. I saw the other boy gesture toward the ocean. I saw them having a conversation without moving their lips. Then I saw them turn and walk into the forest together. I saw them both disappear.
I've forced myself to stay home today. Writing this. I am going back tomorrow. I am going to try talking to him again. If he disappears, I don't know what I'll do. I think I'm going crazy. If he disappears, I'll probably stay there and wait for him to show up again. That's why I'm writing this. Because if he disappears and doesn't show up the next morning, I may not come back. I feel pulled to that spot. An obsession, maybe. I want to leave an explanation for Trowa if I don't come back. I owe him that much and more. I can only hope that there's some explanation for this. Otherwise, I am insane. Otherwise I've lost my mind.
***end of entry***
***Journal entry***
June 10
I didn't think I would write in this again. Trowa is very worried about me, but I told him that I wasn't able to explain why I've been gone for the last two days. I told him that after I write this entry, I'll let him read the entire story for himself. Because it won't matter. Nothing matters. Because whether I'm crazy now or not, I soon will be. Because I can't go back. And just the knowledge that I can't go back is tearing me apart. The urge, whatever it is that pulls me to go back, it is painful to resist. But I can't go back. Because somehow, somehow I hurt him. I made him cry. I made him cry and he asked me not to come back.
I still don't know what it was that I did. I was there before dawn. I was watching when he came out of the forest with the rising sun and took up his spot on the rock. I wasted no time standing and going to him. Again, I tried to talk to him. Again, he ran and disappeared into the forest. As I'd said I would, I sat myself on his rock, facing the forest. All night I waited. I am used to going without sleep. I did it often enough in the war. I was wide awake the next morning when he appeared at the edge of the forest. He didn't look up until he was half-way to me. Then his mouth dropped open, his eyes widening in what I think must have been shock.
If I'd known what would happen next, I would never have stayed there until morning. His eyes, he has beautiful eyes, they shimmered and I didn't know what was wrong until I saw the tears trailing down his cheeks. I've never cared about other people's emotions, but the sight of his tears hurt. It hurt a lot. I jumped off the rock, taking a couple of slow steps toward him. I don't know what I thought I was going to do, but I stopped so he wouldn't run. I needn't have bothered. He looked at me, tears still streaming from his eyes. Then his lips moved. I can read lips, another skill I picked up in the war. I guess the war had benefits after all. I read what he said, although he didn't make a sound.
'Please, leave me alone. Don't do this. Don't come here. Please. Don't come back.'
That's what I read on his lips. If there was anything I could have done to keep his lips from forming those words, I would have done it and gladly. But that's what he said. I felt as if I'd been struck. I don't know how I did it, but I nodded once and turned away. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I walked back to the house. I didn't look back. I just kept walking. I think I cracked. I don't know. All I do know is that I couldn't keep up the facade any longer. I couldn't pretend nothing was wrong. I didn't care if Trowa found out.
Now, as I write this, Trowa is in the kitchen of our house. He's probably brewing coffee or tea. I know he will read this when I'm finished, but I still don't care. I don't care about anything except that I made him cry. And I don't know why it hurt so much. I've gone crazy, but I don't care. I'm sorry I have to hurt Trowa with the bitter truth of my insanity, but I....I don't care.
***end of entry***
