The Act of Leaving
It was a glitch.
They all did what they could, he knew that. He was there watching and waiting as they did all they could. Each moment had sent his heart racing in hope and despair. However the end result only left him empty.
He could remember so clearly when she had been placed in the hospital. That accursed mask had been placed over her mouth, and she was still struggling. It pained her to wear it. She hated it so much. He stayed with her, fighting with the doctors as visiting hours came and went. It was only for two days, and then she was gone. He only got to spend two days with her there before she slipped away. They tore him away, dragging him out of that room only hours before she left them all.
There was so much time where they didn't talk. He wanted to hear her voice, to make sure that she was alright. He couldn't ask though, she was too weak. However, they did have a conversation that ended only moments before they dragged him out. He still curses that he didn't fight harder, but in all that time with her he had made sure that he hadn't slept. He couldn't bear to surrender any time left with her, just in case, he had told himself, just in case it's the end.
Their last conversation had broken his heart. She told him that she wanted to sing. The life in her seemed to explode, giving him hope, as she spoke that one beautiful word – sing. It still hadn't changed fate, and he can't forgive that. He listened to her as she described her dream of singing so many more songs. She told him all of her favourites, and even one that she had secretly been writing.
He had been too cruel, too loud and brash, declaring that she would indeed live to sing another day. He had insisted, loudly and adamant, that she would live out her dream. Only after the words had escaped that a deep, wrenching pain and guilt stabbed at him. Still hopeful and dreaming, she had agreed with him wholeheartedly. She told him, breaking all that he had left, that she wanted him to hear her sing.
Then she was gone.
He wasn't there as he should have been. That day where her funeral had taken place was devoid of his presence. He should have been there; everyone else was. He always regretted how he failed her by being the only one who had abstained from being by her side. Instead, he sat in the cheapest room of the worst motel. His eyes, so dull and vacant, were fixed upon the flickering screen of the television.
He didn't cry. He didn't sob. He didn't tremble. He didn't feel at all.
All that existed was the image projected by the low budget television that kept flickering and crackling. It was only her being showed on that screen. The memories rush back to him, overwhelming his defences. Every image of her kills him deep inside. He never told her how important she was to him.
His heart won't let her go.
"Boring… Boring… Boring," Len mutters as he absent-mindedly clicks the mouse every now and then.
His bored eyes scan the list of singers and songs dully. Each one is lacking in one way or another. He finds them all to be boring and tiresome. It annoys him to be finding such people raised to such high levels. He growls in disgust and starts clicking frantically. It makes no difference to the kind of artist or song that he finds.
Stupid. Repetitive. Uninteresting. Boring. Unoriginal. They were all the same, and he despises them for it. No one would be better than her. It was always evident that no one would be better than her, but none of these artists could even be considered in tune. He growls, growing infuriated and impatient with the fruitless search. It had been five years, and he hadn't bought a single song in all that time.
Suddenly, a clatter echoes about his dark, dimly lit room. His jaw hangs slackly and his eyes are as wide as the full moon. The very notion of such a thing as that which is before him is entirely ridiculous and foolish. He cannot believe it. No, it must be someone else. It has to be someone else! He grinds his teeth together in infuriation. It's someone trying to smear her name. That can't be allowed; it simply can't.
Kaito pushes past everyone else. He'd been far away from Japan, drowning his sorrows beyond their compassionate reach. Slowly, staggering, he makes his way to the glow of the computer screen. The sight awaiting him is news of a new song. His expression doesn't change. He can't understand why Luka hijacked a plane, taking it to all corners of the world in an attempt to drag him back for this.
"Look," Rin urges, softly. "The CD on the desk… It's for the best, Kaito."
His fist clenches fiercely, knuckles turning white. His jaw locks in place as his expression tries to change from its monotonous dullness. He casts aside his rage, it would only elongate the process. He turns to the CD slowly and reluctantly, expecting to leave as soon as he's read the title. However, the moment he lays his gaze upon it his heart constricts in his chest. His right hand rises to cover the area above his heart.
Tentatively, he gradually turns around. His head lifts to look at those people that he used to consider friends. It's the first time that he's looked at someone clearly enough to see their face since she had passed. Emotions begin to flow through his veins once more.
Miku pauses, glancing over her shoulder. The darkness that engulfs the back of the stage is too thick for her to see who called to her. She frowns, shrugging and starts towards the stage again. Her fans await her, and she can't let them down again. The last time she performed plays itself over in her mind. She has years of songs to make up for, besides, who could be more important than her songs?
An arm wraps around her waist. She freezes, panic surging through her veins. She wriggles, twisting to see who it is. Then, the voice speaks again and all her worries fade away.
"Don't leave me again,"
She smiles, rising onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek affectionately. She stifles a giggle and slowly pries the arms away from her. She starts walking towards the stage again, and the person lets her go. One hand is clutching the microphone, but the other is covering her mouth. She can't stop smiling.
Of course, I'll never leave you again… Kaito.
Author's Note: I read Hatsune Mix up to number 10, which was the last one that MangaReader had. Now, I'm ashamed to have used a website for reading it, but I simply couldn't wait to read it. I also couldn't wait to write this as soon as I read number 8; it was practically begging me to write it! Anyway, I've written it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it and I'm so very sorry if you didn't like it.