The Villain Always Dies In the End

Chapter 82: The Depths of the Ocean (7) – 80


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<Michael's POV>

Rua was getting truly happier and happier each day, as the instances of her smiling without faking it increased.

I would have liked to think that it was because of me, but I wasn't sure.

There were numerous other possibilities for her increased happiness, the most simple being that she was just curing her depression with the meds she was taking.

But, in all cases, this was still a good thing, and I could only feel happy for her, or at least, I thought it was happiness.

This jittery feeling in my chest, almost like butterflies in my stomach, this was happiness, wasn't it? (A/N: No, it's love you fucking monkey.)

How, whenever I looked at her in the morning, with her hair all messy and her tunic full of creases, she still seemed beautiful.

How, whenever she laughed, it was like music to my ears.

How, whenever we touched, even the slightest touch, a tingly, flame-like feeling would travel from the place of contact up to my brain, giving me a slight rush.

This was happiness, right?

<Lysander's POV>

This fucking dumbass.

End of POV.

<Michael's POV>

Today was the last day that Rua was going to be here!

She had cleared most of her checks with her psychiatrist, and hadn't made even one attempt during her stay, so she had been deemed safe enough to go back to the outside world.

And sure, I was happy for her, but I was also a little sad, as she had been my first ever friend, well, since ever.

Looking out the window, watching as the autumn rain fell slowly through the air, my mood couldn't help but get a little more down than usual.

As for the current situation between us, we were sitting side by side on a couch sipping hot chocolate as be both avoided the main topic of discussion that we should have been talking about.

Instead, we just both decided to enjoy each other's company's in silence, as we both felt all warm inside, bundled up together like that.

Whether this was because of the proximity or our bodies, the hot chocolate, or something else, well, it was for you to decide.

We just sat there, listening to the autumn rain hitting the roof of the building.

"Pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter..."

It was calm, it was peaceful, and the world seemed a little bit beautiful for a change.

It was a sad beauty, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

As I finished my hot chocolate, I placed the empty cup on the table in front of us and decided to try something that I had only ever seen in forms of media.

A lap pillow!

Placing the side of my head on her lap, I braced myself for any movement of hers, but when she just extended her blanket over my head, before placing her hands on my hair, I relaxed, as I continued to bask in her warmth, as our warmths converged and combined in the space under the blanket.

We stayed like that for quite a while, before she started running her fingers through my hair, tracing out the contours on my head, humming a sweet tune that only she would ever know.

Gently pressing down on my scalp in some places before gliding around in others, I honestly thought I was in heaven for a minute, as I just couldn't feel more comforted.

No amount of creamy mac and cheese could ever make me feel as good as when Rua was running her hands through my hair.

And that tune that she hummed could only make me feel more at home, at home in her arms, as we melded together with no other care in the world.

There was just us two at that moment, as the autumn rain provided the perfect backdrop to our farewell.

So, as she raised my head from our lap, the sky getting darker in the distance, I couldn't help but stare into those mesmerizing silver eyes, like the world around me, one last time.

"Michael, can I vent one last time?"

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"Sure..."

"I hate the way I look."

"I hate the way my voice sounds."

"I hate the way people stare at me when they notice the scars on my wrists."

"I hate this bleak, oppressive world that we live in."

"I hate this place that only signifies the end of people."

"I hate my parents that abused me!"

"I hate my fiancé who only loved me for my looks!"

"I hate how nobody ever punished him!"

"I hate the doctors that stopped my attempts from succeeding!"

"I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS WORLD!"

As tears streamed down her face whilst her breathing became all ragged, I couldn't help but notice how her eyes were so tender, how they were so bitter, wistful, and enchanting all at the same time.

"I hate how I love you..."

Although a normal person couldn't have heard her muttering at the end, I could hear it clear as day.

And, she knew that I could hear it, as she truly "looked" at me for the first time.

"Michael, do you like me? This old, broken lady?"

"..."

I just stayed there, completely still, completely in shock at this sudden question.

Watching her as more tears started to form in her eyes, I knew that I had to make a decision quickly.

And so, even though I knew it wasn't the state of my true feelings at the time, I responded in the only way I thought I could make her happy, to make her not lose herself in this wretched world.

Leaning in, as I saw those eyes filling with hope for the first time, I knew that I was committing a grave sin.

But, to preserve her life, I would do anything.

And so, when our lips touched, I gave it my all, to accept her feelings whilst also trying to develop those feelings myself.

Who would have ever known that I already had those type of feelings for her hidden deep in my heart?

Yet, I didn't, and so I could only try my best.

The soft touch of her lips on mine, the taste of her mouth, that of vanilla and peaches, as if igniting a spark, caused me to be even more gentle, as I ended the kiss with care.

Afterwards, we both averted our gazes from each other.

In the end, we never looked at each other in the eyes again.

The next day, she had already left, without ever saying a word of goodbye to me.

And, as for me, a person still trying to figure out their emotions, only one thing could come to the forefront of my mind.

It was something that I knew for a fact, something that was a truth that I didn't want to accept.

'I am cold.'

I was so cruel...

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