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It almost makes me laugh, how incomprehensible you think you are. How complex. How untouchable. It almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
But you've been touched before.
In fact, you've been pushed. Far from that self-made fortress where nihilism and isolation are the only honorable things you see in mankind. And in the sliver of morning sun sneaking through my curtains, I can see it. You're so soft while sleeping. Even more so when it's not alcohol induced. With the two of us tucked tightly into a bed I've had since I was six, I can see everything.
Birdperson comes to mind. I'm not sure if he was your first friend, but you'd have to kill every version of me before I believe you didn't care for him. Squanchy, too. Maybe even Mister Nimbus if I cared to think about it.
Grandma...
It feels so weird calling her that. But Diane sounds disgustingly formal.
I think she pushed you the hardest.
It would have been so easy for her to sweep you off your feet. A man so focused on inventing, learning, and seeing… I bet she was the first that got you feeling. She didn't just push you. She helped you fly.
What made you crash?
I know it wasn't hard to rebuild your walls after her. The proverbial Rapunzel trapped in a tower of their own making.
Sometimes… I like to think I'll rescue you like she did. But then I wonder what would happen if I failed. Infinite universes everywhere and not a Grandma Diane in sight. Did something go haywire, removing her from every conceivable reality? And now you float aimlessly with the guilt? Or is she the only one you respect enough to ignore? Keeping her safely away from all the sci-fi bullshit while you get eaten up inside.
Maybe things would be better for us if you just ignored me too.
No.
I've given you space, then I've tried climbing your walls. I've held you in silence, and I've wept with you. You aren't impenetrable, Rick. But you're the only one that knows the break in your armor now. If you don't let me in, I'm scared you'll rot alone…
Is it bad that I'm jealous of her?
She knew the key to you.
Sometimes… I hate her. Maybe if she didn't find the key, you wouldn't have thrown it away when you lost her.
I can fucking see you, Rick.
Every part of you that needs love. Understanding... Time. I can see it in your face. Every wrinkle a testament to how long you've lived. Every scar proof that you've been running for so long. Aren't you tired yet?
Of course you are.
It almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
Your eyes open. Briefly, but they catch mine. You give a lazy smile before pulling me close and kissing me like I mean something to you. I kiss back, everything I am is yours again and again.
Then you pull away, that lost look back in your gaze before you roll over and settle back into sleep.
I don't laugh.
But my pillow catches bitter tears for a bitter old man… A bitter old man who I promise to love more than he can hate himself.