Disclaimer:  Berusaiyu no Bara & all characters © ® All Rights Reserved Ikeda 
             Productions 1972-1973, Tokyo Movie   Shinsha Co. 1979-1980.

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Fine Mess 
by Aria(crune@coqui.net)




Dreamers like us, live in darkness, and do not
fear mere shadows.
	-the DreanMaster, Syn




    I didn't expect any of this to happen.  I didn't expect to tell her at 
all.  I imagined just dying by her side, consumed by a platonic love she was 
never to know of.

    So much for that.

    Then again I didn't expect to make her furious by blurting out the
oh-so-blunt truth and then go with my more primitive insticts. Had Oscar not 
spoken and dragged me by back into reality I don't know what would have 
happened. . .I don't want to imagine.

    She was never going to forgive me.  Hell, *I* was never going to forgive
me.  Maybe I should go look for Granny's kitchen knives and end my/her
misery.

    But Oscar wouldn't like that, I had thought later that night, while I was 
drinking away my sorrows.  She'd probably want to do the merry job herself, 
besides, I was too cowardly to bring about my own death--unless she was near 
me.

    I could not block out Oscar's eyes.  This was possibly one of the few
moments in which I had witnessed a fearful Oscar.  She feared me for a
second, and then. . .just faded away.  She wasn't there.  She spoke
with a voice that wasn't her own and said with a resigned, detached and 
despaired tone that was un-Oscar as could be imagined:

    "What are you going to do to me, Andre?"

    I wish I could block that out as well.  I wish I could forget the fact
that I had hurt her and betrayed her trust.  Me... her best friend, the one
she trusted above any other.

    Some friend.

    I had clutched the glass of brandy harder, and taken a long swallow.  I
wanted to get so drunk, I could forget my own name.  I wanted to forget
everything.

    And then I did something I never expected to do.  I prayed.  I was
never a religious man, but I prayed then  that Oscar would forgive me and if 
not, that she'd simply forget.  I promised that I would stay away from her 
and wouldn't even look at her if she would just forget the incident.   

    I sort of got my wish when she declared that she forgave me.  

    I could have just smiled.

    I could have just thanked God and said good-bye, gotten the hell away 
from her to cause less pain...for both of us. I could have tried to mend our 
friendship which had been dealt a mortal blow the night my lips touched hers.  
I had used the truth as a sword to cut her, to have her bleed slowly to death 
like I was since she had said she was going to leave.  

    I could have left her alone, like she wanted.

    I didn't, though.

    I couldn't.

    I didn't want to.  

    I had promised myself that when I died, I'd do it for Oscar or at least 
by her side--I mean to keep that promise.  Which is why right now I stand, 
unblinking starring at her face which has gone slightly flushed from pent up 
rage.

    But I was expecting that.

    Besides, an angry Oscar is a beautiful sight,all fire and  brilliance.  
Anything was better than the Oscar I had witnessed that night, spiritless...
broken.

    She breaks away the gaze and directs herself to the entire troop.

    I'm going to be called and get yelled at, I thought.  Perhaps the 
undertone would something other than Oscar protesting my overprotectiveness, 
but I could pretend--we both would, and that would make it routine, that 
would make it a normal situation.  It would be a bit of stability in the mess
I had made.

    And believe it or not the thought is quite comforting.



End 


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