|Il Mio Bel Dolce
Author: VELVETxKISSES PM
A ONE-SHOT based around the last one-shot I did, "Il Tuo Dolce". Il Tuo Dolce is the girl's POV while Il Mio Bel Dolce is the guy's POV.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Tragedy - Words: 1,670 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 07-03-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2692597
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Il Mio Bel Dolce
"What is it with you and your apparent need to hate me?" I muttered to the retreating form. She had walked in, switched on the light and apparently didn't like my presence in the room because she proceeded to drop her ginormous bag on my chest. I checked the time, 02.17 hours. I can see why she's upset.
"What is it with you and your apparent need to flee every time we start to get closer?!" she snapped over her petite shoulder as she walked to the bathroom. I cleared my throat but she didn't notice.
She looked at me through the half open sliding door. "Well what?" She was mad, livid even. She did not want me to be there.
I was amazed at how carelessly she was treating me. The bag was restricting my breathing, for crying out loud! "Get it off." I motioned to the bag with my head.
She grunted and walked towards me with her piano player hands fixing her hair. She picked up the bag, "Move." She ordered. I rolled onto my stomach on the other side of her bed. I buried my face in the pillows. God, I was dreading this. She dropped the bag and made the bed bounce which made me chuckle softly.
When I looked back at her, she was looking in the mirror with a thoughtful expression on her face. I rolled back over so I didn't have to look at her when I told her. I found a little high lighter with fuzzy neon orange feathers for hair.
"Why are you here, anyways?" I supposed she was brushing her teeth because the water was running and her question sounded muffled. I played with the high lighter for a moment longer.
I sighed heavily, 'Now or never…'
"I wanted to say goodbye. I'm going to go-"
"You're leaving." She wasn't asking. She was telling herself that I was leaving.
I rolled over and watched her grip the counter. She looked sick to her stomach. It was too much for me to handle so I rolled back over. I occupied my mind with anything other than her pained face. That can't be the last memory I have of her before I go to boot camp.
She said something; there was a lingering silence that clings in the air like a blanket. I rolled over to look at her and sure enough, she was staring at me intently.
"How. Long." Her eyes closed. I knew I should have gone about this differently. I was causing her so much pain. So much unwanted, unnecessary pain. Why did it have to be that way?
"I don't know." I was so sorry I couldn't give her more. I wanted pictures and memories and letters and everything from her, with her. I didn't want it to end like this.
She paused for only a second, her eyes still closed. "When?"
"Tomorrow morning," I managed out. I felt sick to my stomach. Why was this happening?
"Where?" barely a whisper, but I heard the tone of her voice crack a bit. I hated myself for causing that.
"Boot camp." I tried to stop watching her, but it was so hard. I hated to see il mio bel dolce in so much pain because of me.
"Why?" The finality of her voice scared me. This isn't how I wanted it to end.
"Because I hate it here." Instantly her eyes flew open and rage was pouring from her skin.
"Then you move! You don't go off and risk your life and join the military!" She looked at me for a very long moment, an eternity it felt like. Then she turned and resumed the position she had placed herself in earlier. She looked a bit pale and I had to wonder if she was feeling as sick as I did.
I rolled off the bed and walked to her, wishing I could envelop her in my arms, just one last time. I knew she would never let me, so I settled for resting my hands on her shoulders. My large hands covered them completely and I savored the warmth of her skin.
She turned on my suddenly, and held a warning finger in my face. I was amused because I knew what she was thinking. I really should have chided her for having such a dirty mind, but I knew better. I knew she wouldn't find it funny.
"How dare you?! You… you… Oh! Words cannot even compare to my feelings for you right now." The hatefulness in her voice made me angry. I had come here to say goodbye and this is what I get?
"Awe, you really like me that much?" I lashed out. I was about to apologize when she looked at me with the most dumbstruck look. I couldn't help but smile. But she was most definitely not in a teasing mood.
"You are so… unbelievable!" she was furious, but I was still angry.
"You are so obvious."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're in love with me and you-"
"Shut your mouth. You have no idea what's going on in my head right now. Even if you had the chance to know, you'd be so wrapped up in yourself to even take the time to care."
The sad part is that I honestly thought I knew what was going on in her head. I thought she actually did care about me. But in that moment, I saw that she cared for no one but herself. I reasoned with myself that she did care, she was just too angry to show it. But I knew that she couldn't possibly care. I tried to comfort her and find comfort for myself and I brushed my finger tips across the bare of her back slowly.
"Don't touch me."
"Oh, come on, now. You know-"
"Don't. Touch. Me." Her voice crushed me. It was so dark and sinister. What could I have done to warrant this much venom, this much sorrow, this much hatred? I knew she wasn't to be bothered, so I retreated back to her room and lay down again. I needed to think about the best way to make amends.
"Get out." I turned to look at her. She was suddenly standing in the bathroom doorway with her arms angrily folded against her perfect chest. I was in disbelief.
"Get. Out." She wasn't looking at me and I was hurt even further. "You're not going to get you 'final night in town fun' here. Get out."
I was pained beyond words. I walked in shame down the hallway and to the door. My hand was on the door handle and I paused.
"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you and maybe we could date when-" she cut me off before I had a chance to finish my sincere comment. Whether it was because she didn't believe me or she didn't want to believe me, I will never know.
"Goodnight." She said curtly.
I stood there, not believing that it was actually going to end like this. I slowly turned around and kissed the top of her head. She was shorter than me and she had her head bowed to refrain herself from looking me in the eye.
"Goodbye, la mia dolce." I whispered. A tear fell down my cheek and onto her hair, rustling her hair a bit.
Not wanting to cause anymore anguish for her or myself, I turned around and walked out, closing the door behind me. Outside her door, I paused. I debated with myself as to whether I should knock on her door again. I knew I shouldn't, but I also knew that I couldn't lose the girl I had loved since the first time I'd met her.
In the end, I realized that it was better if she acted like she never knew me. It would only cause her pain to think of me. It would only cause her heartache to be with me. 'It's better this way,' I kept telling myself. Over and over again, hoping I could convince someone, namely myself, that it was true.
That was the last time I've ever seen her. I haven't changed much, only the fact that I haven't had a woman in my bed since that night. I finished boot camp and went on to serve over seas. I came back a few weeks ago from a three year stint in Iraq. I still think of just driving by her apartment. Making the two day drive would be worth it, if I got to see that beautiful girl again.
I pray that one day she will understand why I haven't come back. And I pray that she doesn't hate me for it. One might think, how could she possibly hate you for loving her? But it is possible, and with us, it is more than probable.
I love her and I don't want to hurt her, so I left. I knew she didn't love me back. She couldn't return the feelings, so the best way for me to cope was to let her go. Heh, it's what I'd been doing since seventh grade when we first met.
Now I am 23 and I live in fear. Fear that she will hate me, fear of settling down, fear of finding someone to love me. Because the only woman I want to love and I want to love me back, is il mio bel dolce. I never want another woman in my life.
So if you're out there;
I love you.
And I will be waiting, il mio bel dolce.
Il mio bel dolce is Italian for "my beautiful sweet".