If I Could

{41} - Love Kills

Truth be told, he was tired of waiting. It was a new day, but the feeling wasn't new. He wasn't sure of what day of what week of what month of what year it started but the emotion felt as old as time. There was a vision inside his mind. A vision that represented his relationship and love for Belle. It did not look good. It looked like a machine made of junkyard parts and it was headed for collapse that duck tape and a fresh coat of paint won't prevent, and it made him think the unthinkable. As much as it hurt him to even consider it, he had to let Belle go, even though the idea of not having a small chance of being with her was frightening, disgusting, revolting, and sickening, he had to stop fighting for her. He had to stop holding onto her. Because if he continued to live this way, he'd never recover from his illness. Lovesickness. It would kill him ever so slowly. Correction, it had already started doing so.

His mind went back to Belle. For the umpteenth time in his life, he asked himself again why he loved her so much, why he was so attracted to her. But this time, he could finally manage to think of a decent answer. Smooth curves and achingly sweet smiles - that's Gabrielle Bulsara, beautiful and soft and caring. Milky skin and prettily sparkling eyes, full of innocence and delicacy and kindness. Roger belonged with Belle. He knew it, he could feel it. But Belle didn't belong with Roger. And that's what made Roger sick, it made him want to throw up. Because her place was somewhere next to Rami Malek — the man who used to work with him at an executive level. The fact that Rami not only had made himself richer off his own company's shares, but the fact that he had met Belle at Taylor Enterprises was so disgustingly embarassing - he wasn't sure if anything could be more humiliating than that.

It would be so much easier, being able to hate her. It would be less suffocating.

But little, little did Roger know that the person who was consuming his thoughts and feelings was very near to him. On the other side of the door, Belle stood still for solid five minutes before knocking it. She was shaking. Would she be doing the right thing if she talked to him? She asked herself as she observed the London skyline. The sunlight made the whole corridor look burning orange, and Belle did not like that. In fact, if there was anyone less compatible with sunny days than her, she'd like to meet them, because she couldn't believe someone like that could exist. She didn't like how the Sun made everything look so orange and vibrant and vivid to the point the surroundings looked like Hell.

She sighed to herself, and she knocked the door. Because it was now or never.

"Come in", Roger shouted from inside the room. He didn't know who it was, but he allowed the person to come inside since only someone close to him would have known where he was anyways.

Belle opened the door, and entered the room. Roger's eyes widened in size, because only a few seconds ago he was calmly laying on the bed, thinking about Belle, only to look at the door and watch Belle Bulsara herself walk towards him, and his eyes could not believe what they were seeing, because what the hell? Why and how is she here? His cheeks turned bright, burning red. His heart started beating impossibly faster.

Roger was sprawled on the bed, his golden hair thrown in all directions. He looked, and was, in pain. There were several deep purple bruises on his face and Belle almost cried at the sight. She didn't know what to do. She felt like she shouldn't have been there in the first place, because she was the reason why he was physically suffering. Now she regretted being there.

But there was no turning back, and now she had to finish what she started. "Hello, I'm here to apologise". Belle picked up a chair from the corner of the room and carried it over the side of his bed.

"Belle, thank you for coming". The affection present in Roger's voice made her feel even worse, not feeling deserving after everything she had made him go through.