His Little Artist: Its Just An Illusion

The fictitious love between a fangirl and a video game character

..::His Little Artist::..
Its Just An Illusion

I hate you...
I hate you so much.
I hate that I let you hurt me. I hate that I let myself be hurt.
All those times...
Those random and simple times still vivid in my memories, still moist from familiar tears, were wasted because of you.
Yes...you.
Those dreams...still they haunt me in my sleep...still they insist to remind me of a reality that never existed; a lie only true within the realm of dreams and imagination. A reality I've longed for years to exist... But never was such a fictitious reality conceived into ours. For ours is limited in its sophistication to allow you to really be here. It has no time for fairytales. All I can do is keep on dreaming...keep on waking up every night crying when I realize you’re not there beside me.

Why... Why did you have to make me cry?

Thoughts broken. Emotions unstable. Eyes red from constant sobbing. Throat hurts just trying to keep all the pain bottled up.
So helpless and lost. So empty.


The house seemed cold and lonely with Depression knocking on its back door to be let in from the autumn's cool and crisp air. The sun already began to set with light fading along with it, making the sky look like a beautiful abstract painting of gold, orange, yellow, and red (and even the leaves had these beautiful autumn colors). Night was not yet present, but already had the temperature dropped to where I could see my breath fuming out from my mouth like steam. Sometimes, for amusement, I'd pretend I was smoking.


This house was indeed vacant; no carpet covered the hard and cold cement, no countertops nor cabinets to decorate and furnish what would’ve been a kitchen. To be specific, this house wasn't even finished yet by the construction workers. All they had done was the frame of the house and the solid concrete bricks. The floors were concrete and also very cold on my legs and bottom as I’d be sitting down drawing whatever came to mind.
I came here often to get away from the world. To get away from reality and to just hide out here where no one would find me.


"I knew I'd find you here," came a familiar voice.


Well...except for just one person who knew about this place besides me.


I slowly look up from my drawing, my eyes falling onto those familiar blue ones that were pale, yet entrancing. The beautiful white, soft silky hair that would hang in front of his eyes no matter how many times he'd push it back, made me always want to run my fingers through it. That playful and teasing smirk always present on his lips whenever he'd find me when I'd think I lost him for good, or just doing it because he knew it made me blush. Despite the butterfly sensation in my gut, I didn’t want to be bothered; I felt despair quickly kill those butterflies.


"What do you want?" I sneer then return my attention back to my drawing.


"Hn, doesn't sound like you're excited to see me much," he assumed after my remark.


I couldn’t find the words to respond. I wanted so much to believe. Nervously I glanced up at him quickly before shying back to the unfinished drawing. He was so tall, so powerful looking, while standing there in the awkward silence. The smirk that was once present upon his lips now was replaced with a puzzled frowned.


"Angel, what’s wrong?”


"Let's cut with the s**t, dude," I started, raising my head up to look at him with frustration. "You…you're not real."


"What? Of course I'm real. Its me…Dante. What's gotten into you?"


"Whatever, man...sure. Just leave me alone," I say, resuming to draw.


Dante didn't move, yet I could feel his eyes looking me over, trying to break into my thoughts. He then headed right towards me until about a foot away from where I sat. My eyes still stared down at the drawing as I concentrated hard to not look up at him. I just didn’t have the courage to face him anymore.


"You're still drawing? Still wasting your life behind the false image of an artist?" Dante said in disbelief, his expression bitter with distaste when his eyes seen what I had been doing.


I felt a knot develop deep within my throat when I heard him say that, choking back the tears that were just begging to be released because the building pressure would only make it worse once I wouldn't be able to keep it all in. The tone of his voice is what got to me. It sounded so real in its frustration and anger.

The grip on my pencil tightened to where I actually made it snap, getting Dante's attention and letting him know that his insult gotten to me.


"What's the matter? Did I hurt your feelings?" His voice was fouled with heavy sarcasm that it felt like he was taking knives and stabbing them right into my heart that ached and throbbed painfully once my feelings began to rush and twist uncontrollably. He quickly grabbed the sketch book and waved it around in my face when I had shouted and begged for him to give it back, but ignored me while laughing; mocking my pitiful attempts to retrieve my artwork.
As if having my heart torn to shreds, I found myself staring wide-eyed in shock on my knees, my hands quickly collecting all of the shredded drawings that were now ruined because of Dante's cruel and harsh touch.

No...

I whimpered, not believing what I was seeing, my hands holding up some of the shreds of my drawings, my eyes filling up with tears.

No. No...no...no!

"Oh, great, now the big drama queen is crying. Sheesh, when are you ever going to grow up, Doll-face?" Dante groaned in annoyance as soon as I started to weep.

Why...

Why did you have to make me cry?

"You...you're a monster!" I spat and tried hitting his leg even though that wouldn't do much good.


He quickly moved to the side, laughing as I missed and tumbled to the cold cement ground. I just laid there, unable to move as my tears kept coming.


Dante knelt down onto his knees and turned me over onto my back so that I'd be looking up at him. I tried looking away, but he held my face firmly and kept my eyes open by using his thumbs to keep my eyelids from closing. We stared. For the longest time we stared into the other’s eyes.


"Am I real enough now?" he asked with that familiar smirk.


"No. You're just a figment of my imagination," I said calmly, but knew he could feel the anger and pain emitting from my aura.


He raised a brow. "Oh? How do you know for sure?"


I didn't.

I didn't know if I really was dreaming. It couldn’t be possible...I don't even remember falling asleep. And I sure as hell wasn't a schizophrenic... I think.


"Oh, Angel, don’t you get it?" Dante murmured then gently kissed my forehead before leaning down to where his lips slightly grazed my ear. "You can't deny it. You can't escape these feelings. You're mine."


He stood up from me and walked over to the empty room (that would've been the front room if the house was finished), staring out the window as it was almost dark, but still bright enough to see. I looked up at him from the ground, some curls clinging to my face because of my tears, and I slowly scooted back into a corner of the room, bringing my knees up close to my chest with my arms wrapped around them.


His attention returned upon me with an expression I assumed was apologetic.


He rubbed his temples as if to take a while’s thought before looking at me again with a shrug. "Okay, so I'm not real, so I'm not able to provoke any real emotion nor feel anything at all, right?"


I didn't answer, not like there was anything to say anyway.


He nodded his head and slowly moved towards me as he continued. "Right. I mean, hell, I could be any jerk standing right here talking to you--you can confirm that by simply imagining it, can't you? I'm nothing more than a thought visually distorting your perception of reality because you're too scared to go out into the real world and find yourself a real guy."


His shadow veiled me and I quickly stood up to try and move out, but then he was quick and blocked my way with his hand on the wall. He did the same thing when I tried moving the other way, and I didn't dare look up into his eyes; I hate how real his eyes look, I hate how a simple stare can make me freeze still or hold my breath. Its like I'm scared to look inside and see nothing but artificial emotions.


"But..." he started again, yet his voice was low and deep now, "...that's not all...there's more to it..."


I closed my eyes tightly and held my breath.


"...isn't there?"


His hand slowly moved under my shirt, lightly caressing my side before making its way to one of my breasts.


"P-please," I whispered, "stop it...please just stop."


"Why? Haven't you been dying for this moment?" His voice deepened more as he neared his lips to my ear. "Don't you want me to f**k you?"


Things would probably be different if he was real; I might’ve ripped off my own clothes and beg him to take me right then and there. Then again, I probably couldn’t even if it were possible; I still carry too much pride to be easily seduced. Even as he started to grind hard and slow against my hips, the desire to moan was painfully kept back behind clenched teeth.


I choked back a heavy sob with some success, though couldn't keep back the tears freely running down my face when opening my eyes to finally look up at Dante. I was more angry than sad though, when I think about it.


Before he could have a chance to make a smart remark about me crying, I blurted out, "I don't want sex, damn it!"


I felt his hand stop fondling my breasts when those words left my mouth, and Dante looked me over curiously. "Oh?"


"Well...well, I mean...I want more than that. I don't want to be alone anymore...a-and you're right, I am scared--I'm terrified to go out into the real world. But its as you said...there's more to it. I just..." my voice trailed off and my gaze lowered from his.


He cupped my face and made me look back up into his eyes. "Say it. Let me hear you say it."


"I...I...uh...I don't want to be in the real world...I want to go with you...but I can't."


After those words, I felt myself go weak with despair for opening up, and started to slide down against the wall to sit. Dante didn't stop me; he merely took a step back to give me space. I glanced up to see his blank gaze before returning my own to the cold floor.


"And why can't you?" I heard him ask.


I looked at him funny, but realized he was serious. "Um...because you're not real, remember?"


He smiled.


"What?"


"You really can be so clueless at times," he said.


"And why the hell do you say that?" I moaned in an irritable tone.


"Because I love you, silly."


I wanted to believe him...I so wanted to. But it just couldn't be true--he's not real...none of his emotions are--and it sucks, you know? The whole thing really sucks just knowing that I was possibly locked in my room imagining all of this up.


I shook my head. "No."


"You don't have to be alone. I'm here...I'm always here."


"No..."


"Sure, everyone likes to daydream; there's loads of other girls who do it like you and some even imagine being with me..."


"No. I don't want to hear anymore of this, stop it."


"...but...well, you see...it was always different with you. To be able to hold you, to smell your hair, to touch and kiss you. To you, in your dreams, thoughts, and feelings...I'm your only true reality. So please...don't push me away. Don't make me a false memory quickly forgotten." He spoke with such sadness that it only made me feel worse...like I was the bad person now.


"What do you want from me?" I asked in a low voice, too weak in my despair to speak louder.


He smiled gently this time, making my heart flutter, and held out his hand. "You."


I seemed hesitant to take his hand, afraid that he would just vanish into thin air if I did because everything seemed too good to be really happening.


"Trust me."


Slowly my hand grabbed for his. His touch was solid and firm, and I found myself shedding a few tears out of wonderful realization.


He smiled again. "That's my girl."


Then darkness engulfed this painful reality; not a source of light to comfort the two of us because we didn't need it or anything else. Not a single thing. It was as if our love had borne us away to a place deep within my subconscious and into a dream I was fond of for a long time. In it we were both alone, though forever together. There was no one to bother us; no one to disturb the happiness and joy we felt just being in one another's company; no one to judge this fictitious relationship. Figment of my imagination or not, I was convinced: he believed this love's real.


"We all want to fall in love. Why? Because that experience makes us feel completely alive. Where every sense is heightened, every emotion is magnified, our everyday reality is shattered and we are flying into the heavens. It may only last a moment, an hour, an afternoon. But that doesn't diminish its value. Because we are left with memories that we treasure for the rest of our lives."
-Anonymous


And you know what?
Whoever wrote that...I believe they were right.

 

 

 

Author's Note

I know I'm not the only girl whose has this problem, but it feels like it whenever I think about this "love" on a higher level. This story was about the realization that Dante isn't real and the pain that has brought to me knowing this.

Its dangerous because I'm delusional and refuse to face the real world; I'd rather stay in my pretend-world with Dante Sparda.

I'm sorry if this story is ridiculously corny. Its pretty old and I tried rewriting some parts to it, but didn't really have the heart to completely change this since I wrote this so long ago...when I was really suffering the "single's" life. I'm fine with my solitude now though and have been for a long time :]

Okay, i'm starting to sound pathetic, sorry XD lol

Disclaimer: Dante is from the Devil May Cry franchise and is property of Capcom (I'm not cool enough to legally own him myself D: thank God for imagination.)

Reviews

[3rd Chance]

It carries with it a very tragic note ... a powerful delusion that has captured one's soul entirely, and has trapped them in a cell where they are very much willing to languish for all the comforts that were never presented in reality. The informality of the writing and the despairing conversations that ultimately meld everything together in a heart-rending final conclusion that ends on an enigmatic note as to the character's state of mind - and an allusion that it actually doesn't really matter at all in the face of love. Delusion or not, the infatuation and final acceptance is very much real.

- And the danger that brings to the table is rapture itself.

[L0v3craft]

wow!
A very beautiful and wonderful review! thank you ever so much ^-^

[Beau-dee-loot]

It's not really corny, you gave the theme new life, plus the delusion of perfect love based on the transplant of fantasy into an impossible reality is a burgeoning issue for the insatiably thirsting super-entitled population that needs diluting with the rationality of acceptance if people are to commit to lasting relationships; chasing perfection is a fruitless and lonely pursuit and the only sure thing set to fail. Having said that, sustainable conjugal bliss is attainable, punctuated though it needs to be by the competing needs and fallible empathy and compassions of our closest ally, though I believe these brief moments to potentially strengthen the bond and make more precious the alliance once intimate union is restored.

As you can observe the subject fascinates me.

Great pace, I enjoyed the florid style of your writing and informal though richly poetic prose. Its themes were piquant, well-explored and wittily unpacked. Unique and stylistic, curious and many ways poignant.

I've had too much coffee - if I seem like I've gone on in a wild and incomprehensible tangent. I'm really trying to hold back from flagrant self-indulgence.

[MoriartyMesa]

This was awesome, reminding me of so many things.

[L0v3craft]

oh, like your crush on dante?

xD lmao jk

[Pax Analog]

This piece, as the most provocative always do, stimulates a flurry of associations: Idoru, eXistenZ, Solaris, Blade Runner, etc.

A vintage rock star marries a Japanese VR female star in Idoru; eXistenZ deals w/vid game culture & VR; Solaris has eerie psychic simulacra; Blade Runner ends w/born cop & genetic replicant romance.

Via ancient Nondual truth, WE are virtual creatures, complex cause/effects animated by a transparent energy field.

So there is an innate absurdity to all our romantic agonies, regardless of the posited "reality" of that "obscure object of desire."

The only Reality is fiercely matter-of-fact transcendence of implication -- the rest is humorously, passionately, creatively up for grabs.

Your story's quite enjoyable, & thanks for the catalyst. ;-)

[Aurora Night]

This is very creative. I love this piece. On a deeper level it kind of shows what people go through even when they aren't single. when they have someone they love, but then quickly fall for another. How we are all lost in a world of imagination. That we can't get something until we break or loss something in return. I love this piece very creative. Five stars.

[Twilight]

This seems just so relevant to our modern society, in which many people are heavily influenced by the culture of video games! Also, your quote at the end is very true. Even today, the composition and definition of reality can be brought into question.

"The Darkness engulfed this painful reality". This struck me as ironic, because darkness usually has no positive effects. But, in this case, it seems to be a rescue from the harsh reality?

Interestingly, I did detect a slightly dream-like quality to this very original piece. Understandable, perhaps, since it relates to a form of illusion?

Any weaknesses? Well, very few. I did notice how short, both the sentences and paragraphs seem to be, throughout this story. On the otherhand, in view of the scenario and theme, that is not necessarily a weakness in this case? Thankyou, for sharing this with your fellow members of the "Beyond Fantasy" Group! Who will be next, to add a piece of their writing?