You Certainly Aren't

You told me no man was worth my tears.

I said you certainly weren't.

I was right.

I'm certainly not going to cry over you.

Two bony knees buckled and fell through the air, striking painfully against the cobblestones.

Not even really a man, just a clotpole.

Two lean arms stretched out, catching and clinging on to a body lying in the darkness, bringing it back to the man who kneeled by his master's side.

I'm certainly not going to cry over you; you aren't worth it.

But please don't be dead anyway.

You can't die, no matter what happened. No matter what they did, what you did, what I did…

Blond hair, streaked with red stains, was pushed to the side as a pale hand touched the forehead of the body and pulled at the still eyelids. The man on his knees felt for a pulse, pushed on a muscular chest, pleading incoherently all the time. Fading, fading, faded.

Please, I'll do anything if you aren't dead.

But you never did listen to me.

The bloody body was clutched to the thinner man's shaking chest in a pathetic embrace.

Don't you hear my breathing? Can't you feel my heartbeat? It's right up close; please hear it, please pick it up. You can have mine. I don't mind if you take mine from me, just breathe! Live, please!

The blond man did not move, could not move.

You said no man was worth my tears.

But you never could get anything right.

A lone tear trickled from a reddened eye down a white, thin cheek and soaked into a red neckerchief. It was joined in the next second by many of its fellows.

You stupid prat.

He hadn't even known that he was speaking out loud, but then there was a ragged noise, almost like that of ripping or heavy breathing, and a croaking voice spoke out over the oppressive silence.

"Who are you calling stupid? Let go of me. And what are you blubbering about?"

Certainly not about you.

A/N: If you don't feel like you got enough backstory, I'm sorry about that. But tell me so in a review, eh? REVIEW.