Pringles Vending Machine

[original] What is more painful? (Desperation)

Title: What is more painful?
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Slash, Het hint.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 980 @ contaparole fiumidiparole
Warning: Angst
Keyword @ bingo_italia : Despair

Summary:
The desperation of desire is sometimes exacerbated by distance.

What is more painful?
Having to say goodbye to a person who moves to another city, who will live a life away from you, that people know that you do not know, probably knowing that someone will take your place in his heart is ; terribly painful.
When Vanessa had left for Berlin had felt as if someone had ripped off a piece of soul. He did not believe they really love her, love seemed so insignificant compared to what you really felt, the fact is that probably was the girl who had taken more. He knew that after her could no longer bring another without thinking about what was superficial, and what was empty, compared to her. He no longer tried to build a relationship, after Vanessa. Could not, even if he wanted. He did not want, though. He did not want to forget it. They knew each other for so long that he wondered when he had first met her. It would have been a mess if they had decided to celebrate the occasion, looked back with an empty smile. He wondered what they would do if they had really celebrated. Ate a pizza? Spent an evening together? But did it ever. They should do something special. Maybe sex? But for him the sex was not anything special. Even before he became famous he was so accustomed to sleeping with girls in barely knew the name to give even the slightest importance. It would not be fucked to say that he preferred not to have sex with her special person. Even at the time was still early for him. I was fourteen. You may experience a feeling so strong at age fourteen? So
Vanessa had left for Berlin, and he had never even kissed. They had promised to keep in touch. To be visited, from time to time. Both knew that would not do so because the distance made it too painful. They lived the image of each other, he often thought. They had decided on a tacit agreement not to see each other ever again, to forget. But how could he forget? Every time he saw a girl with lipstick that she thought of her. Every time someone pulled her hair behind her ears to her thought. He thought he was crazy.
He repeatedly asked if she thought. If you like him crazy whenever something reminded him. Probably not. Vanessa did not believe that the real return on that sentiment. It did not matter, anyway. It was quite useless to look back. He preferred to look ahead. There was a
jerk, not to have tried to have a more serious relationship after all these years. Casserole dish, I was fourteen. He had at least ten years older now, and still was not feeling to look around. It felt like a moron. He had never told anyone. Even when he was drunk, which was indeed fortunate, because when drunk tended to become quite talkative.
In fact there was a person who had told him. He had just told him.
They knew a long time, he had met Vanessa. For a time he had been afraid even that he was going to take it away, although in reality would be legitimate if he tried with her, because in the end it was not his. Not officially. But he was an intelligent and sensitive, and understood-perhaps it was the first to understand something of the mess-and it was pulled apart, allowing them to be alone.
had told him that he had never even touched, and he laughed. Had told him that he had felt when death was gone, and he had put his hand on his shoulder, saying nothing. Had told him that he felt like a moron because he could not find anyone, and he had pressed his lips, smiled, and said that was enough to look around because sooner or later the right person would come.
had come to hate Vanessa, because its absence would not let him be happy. He had even thought to go to Germany and go looking for the right and left, even though he knew that probably would be met if he was deeply disappointed. Why would change, and why he had changed, even if he had not forgotten. She'd just have to keep hoping that around him there was really the right person for him.
Then one day, finally had looked around and saw him.
He had seen him and laugh with him, had seen him cry, he had seen as he tried to pull his morale up when he was in pieces and to calm him when he was mad black. She had seen him when he needed advice, and had noticed his absence when he needed to stand on his own. Almost
Vanessa did not exist in his thoughts when he was with him, even if they spoke to her. Perhaps there was a reason.
It was asked how he had been so blind.
He felt as happy as ever in his life. Then the knowledge that he could never have it-like-Vanessa could not have destroyed him drowning in a silent despair. The difficulties they faced were insurmountable. He could hop on a plane to Berlin and browse all the pages of the telephone in the city to search for Vanessa. But he could not break down the embarrassment and the fear of losing him, if he had said to him that perhaps she loved him, indeed, that the feeling he felt for him was too strong to call it love alone.
He could not crush his own mind.
He lived his days watching the corner of the eye in every action, thinking about how close he was and how far at the same time, suffering from the invisible distance between them.
Wondering if he reciprocated in some way. But probably not. It was useless to think of it, anyway.
could not look ahead this time. Because if you look ahead, she saw only him.

Note: This fanfic is a bit
'... boh. She was born with a specific fandom, but in the end he was fine standing alone and I decided to keep it vague.

So yes, the characters are mine, cheers. I wrote it in a moment of Scazzi and depression, although in reality it is not very Scazzi-related XDD

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