#commander!kurai

He swore that he’d never fall in love again.

               It was a chore, it was tedious, it only left him hurt and upset and broken, and he didn’t need that in his life, not anymore. Last time he fell, he could’ve sworn they were the one, and only ended up being hurt in the end.

               He’d been hurt enough in his life now to know that doing something as absurd as falling in love was an absolute, 100% no-go.

               He already couldn’t comprehend it as is – it was strange, and odd, it made him feel happy and sad and confused all at once – he didn’t like the confliction, maybe that was the reason why he was so cold towards him, why he shied away from his affection, why he shunned him, why he could never bring himself to saying “I love you”—

   . . . Because he didn’t love him, right? At least not romantically, right? It was purely platonic, if anything at all (or, at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself on a daily basis).

               Even so, he knew he was lying, and he was good at that, always dropping one not-so-pretty lie after the next, all those times he said, “I hate you,” “I can’t stand you,” “go away,” “you’re so annoying,” — lies, lies, lies. One after another, never-ending. Lies, lies,lies.

               Maybe he felt guilty for his incessant lying and abuse. Maybe he did it in hopes that the boy would eventually give up on him (he already did, he just didn’t know that). Maybe he just didn’t want to believe that he had fallen, again, and that he had fallen hard.

               In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore. He didn’t want to go through this cycle again, he didn’t want to risk going through the suffering and the heartache again, but he didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t want his feelings to go unreciprocated, he didn’t want to be the cause of his pain—

               . . . Because he cared, right? He really, truly did, at the bottom of his heart, he cared, and he loved him, but there was something holding him back. There was always something holding him back. Always, always something.

               It was still that fear of getting hurt, that fear of everything turning out to be one huge mistake in the end.

               I don’t want to hurt you this much. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I didn’t know. Please, please, I love you, I’m sorry. Don’t be upset.

               He wanted him to know that he cared, and that he loved him, he didn’t want to hurt him, he never wanted to hurt him, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from being cold, emotionless, harsh. Maybe it was a defense mechanism.

               He wanted him to know that he didn’t hate him, he could never hate him, he’d always care for him and his feelings weren’t unrequited, but he knew he wouldn’t ever fully believe that.

               Don’t listen to me . . . we’ll always be . . . so perfectly happy . . .

               Sometimes, he thought, maybe this was worse than falling in love.