ubiquitous, adjective: being present everywhere at once.
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Watch me be. She kept repeating, a broken record in my mind.
She trudges through life, moves the way she's supposed to. Talks to everyone like she cares, smiles to everyone as if they matter, walks.
Watch me be.
…And I do.
I see her as she is, I know her like I know the back of my hand. Why?
Because she's the one who's here—the only one who resembles her.
And I'll never let her go.
How long have I been waiting for her?
How long have I been killing myself inside?
Just seeing her face makes me sick.
She's not the one I want.
The woman I know, the woman made for me, the woman I love, she's just not there.
Where is she?
Down in the rabbit hole, lost forever in the deepest recesses of her mind.
Who is this madly blushing child (when you see the blood rush to her face, youcan'thelpbutwanttodrinkfromherevenmore.) who stammers each and every time she sees me?
A human. A filthy, disgusting, vile human.
Out of all things she could do, why did her Pureblood of a mother decide to degrade her into such a level?
Wasn't she one of my blood as well?
Why has the mother allowed her to dwell with those below her level? Didn't she know that this child was made for me, and for me alone?—She was never theirs.
Look at the consequences of her action.
She lives with fear every moment of her life, feeling wary around those whom she is around—are they vampires wanting to drink my blood? She fears her own kind, she even fears me.
She is forced to live with vampire hunters, and in her foolish humanity, allowed the Kiriyuu boy to drink her blood.
And he drinks from her like an animal. Ungraceful, wild, and most of all, uncaring.
He drains her and leaves her weak every time she graces him with her blood.
And yet he claims that he doesn't want to turn her into a vampire. Doesn't he already know that she is one? The Pureblood Princess of the Kuran?
It's a part of his human nature, I suppose—the only part left of him that still is. He wants everything he can't have. Her blood, her heart, her soul. How pathetic.
And now she's acting the same way towards me.
She wants what she can't have.
Why does she have to want this, when she could have everything else?
Because she's also one of them.
Watch me be, watch me be.
She lives a life that is not hers to live. She is not who she is supposed to be. She is mine.
So why does she have to belong to everyone else?
I silence these thoughts in my mind, force them to run away with a calm I never knew I had.
Yet they cling to me with their claws—and I doubt they will let go. I believe they call this jealousy.
I retire to my room. Another night awaits.
I must be prepared. No flaws. No imperfections .The cover needs to be seamless.
You never know what could happen in the dark.
Not surprisingly, she comes to me during another of these lonely nights. My little girl comes to me again, asking me another round of questions—because I'm the only one she can trust, and we both know that.
Or maybe it's because I'm the only one who can answer her, however vaguely.
"Senpai, why are you still lying to me?" She abruptly remarks to me, under the shade of the oak tree under the clear black skies—where she is sitting right beside me, so prim and proper compared to my languid form.
My eyes widen just the slightest inch.
How did she know?
"Even when you now call me your 'lover'?"
"You cannot hide from me." she continues. "You cannot run from me. Not when I'm on the brink of knowing the truth."
She might as well be the death of me, I mused. Ironic.
Why do I care about her too much? So much that I'm sacrificing my own happiness?
…Weren't we supposed to be the selfish ones?
"Tell me," said she. "Tell me who you really are and why you always seem to be everywhere."
And I try to answer her the best I can.
She is not satisfied.
"That's not enough!"
"What do you want from me?"
Oh, how you don't know.
I have shown her everything I wanted her to see—or rather, what she needed to see--and it is up to her what to make of it. It's her life, after all. Hers is short; I have an eternity and more for myself.
I can wait.
Knowing her, she can't.
"Shit." She mutters.
I glare at her. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing. I'm sorry."
"Don't bother old, old me. When you, o glorious senpai, can just walk away and leave like you always do."
Watch me be, her haunting voice sings from my memory. Let me do this myself.
"You know I would not. Did I not swear that I'd never leave you?"
Then she continues talking, the way she always does. We go around in circles, dips, turns. We dance—dance the way we used to when she was a mere child, a thousand times more fragile.
Here we go again.
And she breaks a little more. And I wonder why I have to restrain myself from comforting her. She must not know the truth.
Even if she must suffer.
I can see that she's breaking a little more. Breaking the illusion Juuri had given her.
And for some reason, I am disgustingly proud.
She remembers. She's beginning to remember. Maybe this winter of mine will finally end. She's coming back to me.
..She's breaking, I know. Somehow, I always knew she would. As the mortals say, love triumphs over all. She loves me more than everything in this world, I am her world—as she is mine.
I resign myself to the fact that I only have to wait until she awakens.
Watch me be. Watch my lonely, broken, pathetic self try to put everything together.
I watch her be, and I have plenty of time on my hands.
She must stay innocent.
Love vanquishes time. To lovers, a moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock.
- Mary Parrish
(major spoilers if you read below. check at your own risk.)
I think it would be appropriate to say that this is experimental. KanaYuu in Kaname PoV. I rarely write first-person, either.
It was harder than expected. I hope I caught him well enough, it was so hard to gain a perspective on his character. Rather than portraying him as the 'all-loving-ever-caring' nii-san of Yuuki as in the manga, I wanted to try and put him as the 'detached-but-still-possessive' Kuran ancestor. Notice the kinda chopped thoughts and reactions. I thought that he was not the type to focus on one thing--anything he sees would change his train of thought right away.
I'd appreciate feedback on this story, really. I think I need much help on the characterization side of this.
Thank you for reading 'Ubiquitous'!
Some story stats:
First draft: November 23, 2008, twelve twenty-eight in the afternoon
Date finished: December 12, 2008, four fifty-two in the afternoon
Word count: eight hundred and fifty-seven words.