Wasurenai Kara

I knew it was never meant to be. Yet, it's funny how sometimes…sometimes that just doesn't matter. Sometimes you can know exactly what the outcome of a situation will be and you still dive in blindly, hoping that knowledge was false. If only it had gone that way. If only I had listened to my head Maybe then I wouldn't be suffering the way I am now.

But what was that old saying? Oh, right. “It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”? Let me tell you, sometimes it's not. And some days that can be the least truthful set of words in the world. Because some days, when you really get to thinking of what might have happened, you wish you'd never had the opportunity to see that person at all. If you'd never met them, never gotten to know them, never gotten to love them, then there would be no chance to lose it all.

Hmm. It's times like that which make me regret, even hate, my decisions of the past even if they were made in the best interests. But then I try to think of who's best interests. Couldn't be mine. Might have been his, but I'll never know. Not when I've distanced us by a continent and leagues of ocean. Besides, I know I'd never be able to face him without having the wall I've built around me for five years suddenly crumble just for the chance to be in his arms. That's how much I loved and still love him.

I know. “Just go to him if you love him that much”. But how would you know that's the best choice? I could easily do just that and I've started to more times than I care to count. Still, the fact remains: it's just not possible.

And to think that all this came from one night.

I wish I could say the memory is vague, fading. But the truth is, it's clearer than some of my more recent memories. Probably because it had such a profound effect on me. Whatever the reason, it's still as clear and lucid as if it had happened an hour ago.

The moon's glow on the ocean; the waves rushing up to lick the sugar-white sands; the balmy breeze brushing through the trees; the leaves shimmering as they twirled lazily. All of it was incredibly, almost painfully beautiful. Yet, I had eyes for none of it.

No. That particular night I was fixated on another moonlit figure of delicate beauty, the pale light from above washing over shining obsidian.

I had no idea why he was there, or why I was, for that matter. And I still don't. I had never intended to follow him to the crest of the white beach as he stepped into the graceful embrace of luminescent waves. Yet there we both were.

Whether it was a moment of weakness or a simple urge, I don't know what made me take the first step onto the stretch of sugar-sands. Perhaps it was weakness more than anything. As the years pass, it becomes the more desired answer. I simply don't like the idea of blindly throwing myself into something because of an urge. Of course, when thinking of this I have to try and erase from my mind the many other times I've done just that.

But what if it was weakness? Is there someone standing by my ear whispering that I must always be strong? Is there some entity in my mind forcing me to abandon any thought of weakness? I think not. Everyone, even I, should have a chance to give in to any lapse of strength when they like. Just because when people hear the name Cloud Strife they immediately celebrate my bravery and accomplishments doesn't mean that I hear the name and think the same thoughts. No. I tend to see everything I missed because of that “strength”.

I was determined that night. I would not let my chance to give in to the weakness of my soul be stolen. Because soon that chance would be gone, lost forever. How did I know? Simple. We'd stopped Sephiroth; we'd helped stop Meteor; we were famous. The world looked to us as its heroes. But it wasn't enough to keep us all together. Already many of the group had stated their plans to leave.

So out of all the choices, I like to say it was weakness that drove me forward. I like the thought that I'm exactly like everyone else when everyone else sees me as anything but. And even though I was giving in I all too clearly remember the feeling that I should leave while I had the chance. Of course, I didn't.

I was actually surprised when he didn't notice me until I was close enough for the water to brush foam on my boots. For all of his advanced senses, it seemed that even he could be drawn into his thoughts so deeply that nothing penetrated. All the better. If he had noticed earlier I felt I might have turned and run. But now that the water rushing around his body was gently lapping my feet, I felt…connected.

Perhaps I thought he would turn me away for disturbing him. At least that's what I'd felt. I almost expected it so much that it hurt. But the words never came. All I received was something I'd never seen.

However, it was the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Something about that smile pulled me forward. Nothing bothered me as I stepped into the ocean, the warm water steadily soaking my clothes. I was completely lost in his calm gaze, his soft smile.

I don't know how many people had looked into those crimson eyes and felt only solid fear. Yet, there I was, wading my way through chest-deep water just to reach the owner of those very eyes. And for all the words in the world, I couldn't find a single one to say to him.

Vincent Valentine. For months I had dreamed of nothing but facing him like I was. And for months I had dreamed of what it would be like to have those soft fingertips tracing over my skin. And despite all of my dreams, it was nothing like what I could have imagined. No. I had been naïve before that touch.

It was a simple caress, his fingers painting warm streaks of salty water down my cheek. Never had I thought a single touch could affect me like that. Yet, I was trembling for those fingers to return after they disappeared below the water again.

Even through all of it, I expected him to turn me away. I know it was foolish to think of the worst case scenario when everything was like a dream. I guess that's just who I am. No matter how perfect something is that's occurring, it pains me not to think of what could go wrong. It could all be over before I knew it and it hurt to know that, but it hurt even worse not to acknowledge the possibility.

But something in his gaze struck me and for once in my life I forgot how to doubt. And I have to this day no idea how he possibly knew my feelings. I had never slipped around him, never given him a reason to wonder. Perhaps, just as it is me to sort out the worst possibilities, it is him to wonder about everything. All I know is that when he reached out again, I didn't resist.

It's hard to explain how you get to a certain point when you don't understand yourself. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to start seeing the wrong as crimson eyes turned dark under ebony lashes. The only thing that I haven't a clue how to understand is how he knew what I was yearning for when I spoke no words. Perhaps he was simply wanting the same thing. But as his lips brushed mine, I found it hard to keep any thought straight. Even now, I can still feel the soft tingle and the catch in my throat. Even now, I can lose my train of thought at the memory.

Because that's what reminiscing does. It reaches down and drags every detail, every texture, every bit of a memory to the surface until you feel you're there. But I've found there is a limit. If you pull yourself too deeply into a memory, you may never leave. You could possibly spend the rest of your life immersed in a recollection so real that you refuse to believe it's not.

That's why reminiscing can be good as well as harmful. It's all in how you do it. Hmm. And here I am, recalling the one thing that has the power to keep me from sleep, the one thing that plagues my mind every second of every day. Aren't I the fool? I sure didn't feel like one that night. No, everything seemed too perfect to be real, yet it was.

I had thought up to then that love was about always being with the other person, sharing every bit of your life with them until the point where you were almost one. Boy, I was stupid and blind. And to think that it took a single night to correct that idea.

With that kiss, I found the true meaning of the ideal people call love. If you ask me, I think it's far beyond the confines a single word gives it. The entire thing is far more that can ever be described by the word “love”. I found it didn't matter how long you are with the other, just so you're with them at least once. And if you truly love someone, you don't fight to keep yourself happy. Instead, you battle to make sure they are. And now…now I understand that a single kiss is all someone needs to fulfill them when they're in love.

That's exactly what that kiss did for me. As he drew back, his breath blissfully warm on my face, I knew it was over. Maybe he knew it also, because there was no second kiss. In its place, he pressed his wet palms against my face. The scent of saline filled me and I could only stand there, leaning into his hold as his head tipped forward.

Foreheads touching, his ebony silk hair fell around us, almost as if he was protecting us from the world. If only he could have. If only I could have stopped time so I'd never have to hear those words fall from his petal-soft lips: “It can't be done.”

With that single whisper I almost dissolved right into the ocean. I felt I might have been dangerously close, if not for the firm but gentle pressure of his hands against my cheeks. Which is why I found the strength I'd left on the beach and nodded. “I know.” I think those were the hardest two words for me to speak ever. To this day, they have no rivals.

A light breeze was playing over the water as I tried to keep the tears from my eyes. The only reason I knew it was there was because it pushed the salty drops down my face where they gathered against his fingers. But I somehow forced a smile onto my lips, one that was mirrored on his own. It was a sad smile, almost pained, but it said it all: what we'd shared that night would never be forgotten. No matter what we went through that silent exchange would never be lost.

It's all a blur after that. Not that I don't remember, but it's just something I prefer not to. There's no need to remember a sleepless night of wondering why, wishing things had gone differently. Why? Because there's no need to remember something I repeat every night. And the morning after? Same as the morning I'll have tomorrow: I'll wake alone after a night alone, drowning in my own mind. I never saw him after that night and I never will. It's just not meant to be.

Again, you might say “just go to him”. I wish I could. But something happened that night along with that kiss. We forged a silent contract that we would never try to be together. We both understood the important factor of fate. We might have loved each other in silence and we might have stood against it once, but we would never do it again.

But that doesn't keep me from thinking. If only I could go to him, what would I do? What would I say? Hmm. I don't know why I'm going on like this. You didn't ask to hear it; you're just an unfortunate victim of love who thought I could help. And here I've only filled your ears with a story of a failed love. How could that possibly be of help? You're welcome to leave if you wish. No? Is this really worth something to someone other than him or me? Yes? That's surprising.

Ah, I see. You're going through something like this and don't know what to do. You're asking the wrong person here. If you've learned anything from this it should be that even after years I still can't bring myself to know what to do. I'm a coward, hiding the way I do. I could easily break that contract and go to him. I know he would never turn me away. As much as I understood that he would do the right thing and leave, I also understood that he would never turn me away.

He just isn't that way. Neither am I. Maybe that's why it was doomed from the start: we're too much alike. As much as I try to fool people, underneath it all I'm exactly like him.

Hmm? What would I do if I had the chance to just see him? I haven't a clue. There isn't a bone in my body that doesn't want to see him again, to hold him in my arms. Yet, I would be completely lost if I ever did. I would like to think I'd be calm, cool-headed. But that's just a faint hope. I place no trust in it at all. I don't make it a habit to trick myself into believing falsehoods simply to feel better.

So. I have nothing else to say to help you except this: listen to yourself. If it's not right, it's not. If it is…well, congratulations. But either way, don't dwell on it. It's not healthy to stay hidden in the shadows of old memories simply because you can't forget. Do something about it.

Hmm? There was something else, wasn't—oh. Could you wait a moment? I think that's the door.

“Cloud…wasurenai kara…”

…because I can't forget…