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A familiar voice.
The fog clears around his body. I've been here before. Same place and time, yet disorientated and lost.
He reaches out to me with a gloved hand. I take it readily, wondering how his skin feels beneath the fabric. Are his hands soft, is that why he hides them?
But the feeling, too, is familiar and if it's what he'll give, I'll take it.
And we're soaring above the world, I notice, we're standing mid-air with nobody else around. I'm holding his hand, and something inside me warns me not to reach for more. Fear.
Then he's taking my other hand and drawing me close. I let him guide me.
And he's closer now, angular features as strong as he is. He never seems vulnerable. Not like me. His features aren't knitted, though, not angry or resistant. And his eyes ask a question, and I lean forward and take his lips with mine.
It ends.
It's the same old dream. It comes nearly every night, and wakes me often. My bed is always tangled with sheets, too big, too empty with only me in it. Loneliness always strikes me hardest in these hours. At times I wonder what I lack, that makes me so lonely. Because he's alone, I'm sure of it, and he seems to prefer solitude. What does he have to make him so complete? And I lament that there is no space in his heart, it's cramped, but mine is big and empty, and lonely.
I could never be what he needs.
Sometimes I get so wrapped up in these unresolved thoughts and unfulfilled hopes that I cry. Pitiful as he knows I am.
And when the night finally draws past a distant horizon into morning, sometimes I get the chance to be near him. When I'm lucky, he even wants to spar with me, and with that, he'll offer a few clipped words here and there. And he'll listen, to a degree. I only talk of things I know will interest him. Somehow, I think he knows. Because the set of his brow is never so severe as it was, and his derision is not so cutting, just enough to keep me down. I take comfort in the concession he has made now my heart aches so badly for him.
And it's constant. The ache with how badly I want him. Every day, every time we meet I fall in love with him over again. He's constantly in my thoughts, and I wonder if he thinks of me too.
Probably not.
Sometimes we'll be together, but the vivacious nature I had is now gone. I can't muster the courage to draw closer. For the first time, I feel shy. And too soon he's gone, and I'm thinking over the many possibilities of what I could have said or done to win him over to me, even an inch closer. Anything. When I'm with him, I feel paralysed; but alone, it's no better.
I feel weak.
I know I'm only a shadow of what I once was. My friends worry, they cast glances among themselves now and then. Of course I notice. But it's not like I can reassure them; indeed it's worse than they could imagine. I'm defeated and rendered helpless by the very thing I grew strong for.
Love.
I can't sleep. It's too strong, and there's a lump in my throat. I need to be near him, but I can't, so I go to a place I know he frequents at night. A barren range of mountains, a particular plateau. I wonder if he's awake, if he can sense that I'm here, in his spot. Even the thought makes my heart thump violently. What would I do, if he did come? I have no idea. But what I do know, is that this is really love. Because he has encompassed the entirety of my life, and I am never whole without him, I fear I never will be.
I'm shaking. It's cold out here, alone, in the smallest hours of the night. It's windy, there's a distinct chill in the air. I can't feel it so vividly any more. I feel outside my body. I wish so badly that he would wake me up from whatever this is, this stupor that renders me a fraction of the man I was.
This becomes a routine of mine, when I can't sleep. I come here. Because at least it feels a little like him. It's the best I can hope for.
Then one night, he comes.
My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of him standing before me. His expression is neutral, but curious. His voice is quieter as if hushed for the night. "What are you doing here?"
I swallow. I stammer. "I- uh. Couldn't sleep."
"But why here."
I think we both know.
"Of all places, here."
My hands are shaking, I can't control it.
"Kakarot."
I can't look at him. Tears sting my eyes. I clench my trembling fists and blink rapidly at the ground, willing away the emotions that have so suddenly overpowered me, my vision blurring with collecting tears.
"Look at me."
I'm surprised at the command and blink up, tears escaping at the motion. He looks slightly grieved, it's not something I'd seen before. Warm tears roll down my cheeks and collect at my jaw. I bite my bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the worst of it, I get a vague taste of salt in my mouth.
The silence draws out, he looks uncomfortable, contemplating what to do with me. Finally he speaks again, softly as though not with his own distinct, rough voice. "What's wrong?"
My face crumbles at the question, but I reign it in again. I breathe thickly, deliberately. My chest feels tight. He waits, and when I finally feel able to speak without falling apart, I respond. "I'm in love."
He hesitates. I feel regretful for putting him in this position, but it's out of my control. "Is that a bad thing?"
"Yeah." I manage, more tears filling my eyes and overflowing, momentarily skewing the vision of him standing there. "When it's someone who will never feel the same."
There's a knowingness in his eyes, he's not stupid. "Did you ask?"
"No," I breathe, shaking my head. "I can't do that."
"Why not?"
I choke. More tears fall. I sob inside myself, silently, then pull it together when I'm able. "I can't take it," I dissolve into sobbing again, no longer able to hold it back. This is humiliating, crying in front of him. Him, of all people. The most unforgiving. The most unyielding. But my love is strong and it has made me weak, weak to the point of crying in front of him. I turn away, unable to face him any longer, and hide myself in my hands.
He simply stands there, waiting. It feels like an eternity before the worst of it burns out and I can breathe again. And I'm wiping at my face, embarrassment coming more vividly now, more palpable and real. He's still there.
I breathe deeply, lungs feeling more open and clear now. My face is still damp and the crisp night air feels different on it.
"Tell me what you're upset about, Kakarot."
I glance to the side to see him there. My knees feel weak, so I sit on the ground. He does too. I sniffle a bit, then formulate the words. "I'm lonely." My face screws up again, but my eyes have dried up. I breathe deep. "There's someone I... I want to be with. And it's consuming me. Nothing is the same. I just want peace." It feels strange to put words to the things I'd been feeling.
"Why is it like this, though?"
"I guess... I guess when I realised it was futile, then it became an obsession, almost." I pause.
"Go on."
"Because everything became about that person. I even changed myself to better please him."
It was at that moment that we both realise I'd referred to my object of affection as a 'him'. I sit up a bit, stiffening. I look to the side cautiously to gauge his reaction. His gaze is steady, unfaltering. Neutral and even as it was when he arrived. "Maybe you don't need to do that."
"No, maybe it's better I don't." There is silence between us. I go on. "And even if... he felt the same, he doesn't do these things. Doesn't show love, if he even feels it at all."
He nods, seemingly reflecting.
"If he even thinks of me, I don't know. It's more than I could ever hope for." I sigh deeply. "It's hopeless. And there's no way out."
"Kakarot," He starts. My heart's thumping comes into my awareness again. "This is someone we both know, yes?"
I nod at the ground.
He is quiet for a long time, as I sit there completely drained and cracked open, innermost weaknesses free to plunder.
"Kakarot."
I look up at him.
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
Somehow I have emotions left in me. My face screws up again before I hide it with a hand, and nod. His expression, even as ever, tells me he'd already known.
"It's you." I blurt out, a dry sob escaping my throat. I hide in my hands, trembling again, this time in fear. Somehow I wish he would lash out at me, maybe even end it all. But he will sentence me this time with his words, and that is what I dread.
"Okay."
My breath is hot as it bounces off my hands and back onto my face, which now feels a little sticky with tears. I nod quickly.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"Please." I rush out. I want nothing more than for him to stay.
"Alright." With that he seems to relax a little, reclining to look up at the stars. That is what I know he likes to do here.
As minutes pass, so do the most difficult of my emotions. Things even out within me, and I eventually lie back to look up at the sky as well. I listen keenly for any movement from him, any breath or fidget. But being so close is in itself a comfort.
After a long while, I fall asleep.
~
I wake to the beginnings of a sunrise. The sky turning from a dark blue now into orange, the air is thin and clear, silent.
I feel less than perky, emotionally drained and regretting the scene I'd caused. I blink away the sleep, knowing I can't doze off again. That is when I notice him, sitting on the edge of the plateau, arms resting on his knees as he looks out over the view. He must have heard me stirring, because he looks back at me over his shoulder.
"Did you sleep?" I ask.
He looks off over the valleys again. "A bit, yeah."
"Mm." I sit up, my back cracking. "I'm sorry about last night."
"Okay."
"I feel stupid."
He says nothing.
"Do you hate me now?"
"No."
I really don't know what to make of this. It was about the last thing I'd expected.
"You really... you assume a lot, Kakarot."
"What do you mean?"
"How are you to know what I think or feel?"
"I... make educated guesses."
"That's not..." He cocks his head to the side, thinking of a way to articulate what he intends.
I wait.
"We are different, Kakarot. As different as two people can be. You can't know what's in my head unless I tell you."
"But you already knew my thoughts, without me telling you."
"You showed me, Kakarot, because something in you wanted to tell me. You wanted me to know, even if it meant I hated you." He's right, to a degree. I had hoped beyond hopes that he would see me, but on the other hand I had lost control. "What I'm saying is, is that you're projecting. You expect a certain course of action from me. That's quite... I don't like that."
"I didn't know." I reply honestly. "I'm sorry."
He looks over his shoulder again at me. "Okay."
My thoughts turn to last night, and my entire predicament. "What should I do?"
He seems to understand. "Just... keep breathing. You'll be okay."
"I will?"
"Why do you suppose I came here in the first place?"
I can't respond. I really don't know.
"How will you know, if you don't ask me?"
"Why did you come, then?"
"I was finally ready for you to tell me."