Art of Despair [ENDING]
Valentino smiled sadly as the living children left the building. Nikki, Réne, Miriam, Arthur, Rinka and Zach... He knew they'd suffer, and he knew they'd take a long time to recover, but... He believed in them. He... He knew they would be alright. Eventually. Asuka... Faye... Joseph... Ada... Cateline... Hayato... Cameron... Tsubasa... Harvey... Maro... Homugi... Shika... ...the mastermind, Nui... All dead. As was he. But as he followed them each dissappearing, moving on to where-ever spirits went, he sighed, waving to his friends in his usual slow manner, soon turning to the others, smile falling. He... He himself still felt horrible. He remembered everything. All the things he'd done to innocent people, each with their own lives and dreams. Futures destroyed by his hand. Just because he was curious. Ridiculous, really. But he... fell into despair so easily. How horrible. It was just good that he died, really. He shook the thought away and stood behind the kids, looking at their backs with a solemn smile. While they couldn't see him, or hear the continous 'drip drip drip' of blood running down from his form, he still floated closer, toes never touching the ground. "...I'm... proud that you overcame it... All of you... ...and..." He moved closer, tears still rolling down his cheeks. And wrapped his arms around Nikki, pretending that they didn't pass through their body slightly. "...I'm sorry... so sorry... ......Please... Fix this for both of us... Nikki... ...I... no longer can't........." And leaning his forehead on their back, he closed his eyes as he began humming. A final lullaby, so to say. He didn't know if it affected Nikki at all or if his tears left any trace, but... He hummed, feeling a numb warmth from Nikki, and slowly felt his form disappearing, his mind getting lighter. ...He wasn't at peace, though... But he no longer cared. As long as Nikki would be okay... He could wait a decade. And as the last note of the song left his throat, he finally disappeared for good. ... ...Only to shoot up in his bed, sweating like he'd gone for a swim and panting harshly. He felt his chest-- no rib sticking out. He touched his feet-- and felt it. Felt the touch on both his feet. He heaved a deep sigh of relief, flopping back down on the bed as he wiped his tears that refused to stop flowing. ...What had the dream been about again...? ...He recalled dying, and very painfully so, but... "............I... need more sleep........." With this conclusion he turned his side, hid deep within the blankets and closed his eyes. Though forgetting his nightmare, he still felt oddly hollow somehow. As if... Heartbroken. ...Wonder why...
