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Like a summer breeze warm throughout my body, hotspots localized to different moods. I imagined this quiet farm life where our banks were full, my mom was happy and there were two rascals running around in the yard. You had taken the horse for a run, a long one, the kind of laps you always do around the battlefield. Both of you would peek into the kitchen window in favor of a midday snack only to find me exsa-- exa, tired from a long day's work. The pie steamed on the counter, the carrots resting in the fridge and the popsicles chilling in the freezer. But you would not go for any of them. You would tie the leather reins firmly outside and stroll over to my recliner. Maybe beam a smile or two straight at my face. I don’t know.
After years of pranking each other with jump scares and wrestles we would have gotten used to something calmer, something more cheesy, something like our honeymoon. You would look at me to admire my handsomeness, how beautiful I always have been. How lucky you were at that moment. Maybe tilt your head like a cute bunny, and all, but finally. You would decide to give in to the urge. Place a kiss on my forehead and greet me with a simple “good morning, darling”. The horse would be your escape when I try to follow. Of course, I would never catch up in time to get a second taste, something more tender with a swing while the kids were out of sight. I never catch up.
Your back is just too small and always too far away.
Always out of reach when you fill yourself with green goo and never grazed by any hand.
I never manage to keep track of you but your bullets are somehow always flying, downing everyone I point at. My decoys are perfect meat shields. Just tall enough to hide your whole body behind, just fast enough to distract the enemies from your flank missions. When you bolt down the road and out of sight, I sometimes wonder if you'll ever come back. If you would ever stop for anything ever. A simple chat, a rest of heart or even me.
It surprised me to be crawling out of bounce, downed by a third party. Two metal feet had come running in a straight line towards me and I thought I was dead. It was only you. You actually came back for once to stab me with a revive-pen, remember that? You said:
“Can’t believe I’m standing still. You’re lucky I like you, amigo.”
I don’t know if my heart had stopped or the pen had malfunctioned. Hell, it could have been both and I wouldn’t even bat an eye cause all I heard were church bells and the soaring of an arrow lodging itself into the back of my head. The crunching of my skull could have launched me across the map if you hadn’t offered me a hand.
“Come on, I don't have all day.”
You firmly clenched around my palm and ran at a normal speed next to me, making sure I escaped the storm alive. I held your attention for barely a second to heal up before you were gone. It was a good second, a second of bliss, a second in heaven. It was sweet maybe romantic even, had it not been for the nearby explosions making me piss my pan-- I mean tactical cover. Yes. Even if we ended up in a loss that day you just laughed it off and bounced around on your feet. You detached the GoPro from your chest and waved at the lens like you always do. Your fans must have loved the show as much as I did, I dug the performance at least, the upbeat banter being my favorite. I wish it never stopped. I wish we were on that farm building a treehouse together with lips around a lemonade. Or a pina colada, I make a mean cocktail. A cold one, of course, the ice cubes always makes the glass clinking so much more satisfying. I wish you looked at me the way you looked at the camera, I wish I was a camera so I could float around you all day. And it wouldn’t even be weird or anything. I could make decoy cameras and get several angles like a professional, uh, camera studio. From the air and the ground and all around. What was I saying again?
“Mirage, can you hurry the hell up?”
You came back from looking at the virtual fireworks and unpronpo-- unpomta--, just janked my hand! Even with my feet dragging you refused to let go until I was where you wanted me. Right under the lights. We leaned against the front row railing surrounding the tribune. The champions stood proudly on the stage but you were captivated by the lights and the screens. You barely noticed the people, I don’t even remember there being people. Just background noise and your arm around my shoulders. The music had you spellbound.
“Pay attention now, I designed half of this with the boss upstairs. Cost me two paychecks but it was worth it--- mira!”
You pulled me closer by the neck to make sure we looked at the same thing. The flashing effects, the shapes and letters spelling out in the sky transformed into confetti and dawned upon the winners. The champions were too distracted by the fame and the microphone shoved in their mouth they didn't even look up at the simulation. They didn't even know they missed out on your tight embrace clutching against me. They didn’t notice how hot your breath was through the mask. Not a single thing in the sky was left uncommented, every last flicker explained to the bone in detail. And I made sure to look at all of it. I don't remember everything in my life but the moment you pulled your goggles off for a better look, the moment you looked at me in suspense. It's imprinted on my soul.