Fragments of Love: A ZaintSee Collection

things you'd never do, but done

Chills went up his spine. His head was filled with thoughts of dread and regret. His vision blurry with tears, nose running and his face wet. He felt hiccups coming in as he tried to control his emotions. The raw realization of what he had just done. What he couldn't believe he had just attempted to do.

The fact of the matter: He was scum. The biggest one. He was no better than those who talked down to their partners, those that hurt their partners.

He had no excuse. There was absolutely no reason for him to do so. His feelings of jealousy and rage was no excuse for the actions he chose to do. He felt the rush of emotions going through him all at once, hot and cold. He felt his heart break, over and over. No, he had no right to feel that way. Then his vision just turned white with rage and desperation, sadness interwoven in the two. How did he get to this point?

He paced the length of the hallway, hands gripping his hair tightly. He was heartbroken, in pain, and most of all, angry at himself. He just wanted to disappear. Stopping, he breathed in harshly before turning to the wall and hitting his head against it once, the pain radiating from his forehead. It wasn't enough.

"N'Zee? We're finished." A voice entered, mixing with his own. He ignored it and pressed his head against the wall harder, as if he were to do so, he'd be able to sink into it and be gone.

"What's happening P'? I'm scared for him."

"I'll clear the rest out."

"Nong, I think you better handle this."

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder hesitantly and he flinched away.

Don't touch me. I'm bad.

"P'Zee?" A familiar sweet voice entered his mind. It would have relaxed him before, but now, remembering the things he did, it only made him tense. He didn't deserve for such person to talk to him ever again. "P'Fight?"

Fighter clenched his eyes tightly, as if they weren't already. The hand rested on his shoulder again, and instead of flinching, he moved back a step, turning to see the person who still compassionately tried to make him feel better. He should be the one comforting him!

Tor stood there, hand raised from where he probably had reached to touch him. His hair was still a mess, sweater rumpled, but at least he has dried his tears.

"Are you-"

"Why are you still talking to me?" He asked in despair, his hands gripping at his hair never lost it's place. It only dug in deeper, echoing his sentiments. "I've hurt you!"

Tor's eyes filled again, stepping closer.

Fighter backed away a step, one hand coming in front of him, palm out. "No!" Tor paused. "Stay where you are." He shook his head, sniffling. "I-I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"You didn't."

He staggered. He blinked his eyes, bewildered. He couldn't believe what he was saying. "I forced you! I hurt you! You didn't want it, Tor!"

Tor shook his head, "Please, calm down." He apporached closer.

Fighter backed up until his back met the door, the knob digging into his back. "Don't come near. Tor," he pleaded. "don't."

Tor only shook his head, just a couple steps now.

Fighter then slumped against the door, slipping down until he was kneeling, looking up at Tor. "I'm sorry. So sorry!"

He cried. He had no right to cry. But he did. He let it out, begging for forgiveness.

"I'll never see you again, I'll do what you say!" He babbled, sobbing. His head fell forward while his entire frame shook His hands fell on his lap, palm face up. "I'm so sorry!"