Work Text:
There was a time when he didn’t care.
A time when a permanent dark cloud had hung over his figure, consistent in its attempts to conceal the mellow luminescent glow of the sun. Instead, everything had been filled in with a bleak grey that clung to every single surface in sight. His world was insipid, monochrome seeping into every creek, flushing away any potential colours as though they were harmful weeds.
He was cold. Hands constantly chilled to the bone, joints locking due to the biting winds that ravaged his soul. Though the seasons had a habit of changing, he’d never managed to shake off the spiritless frost that clung to the wintry seasons. Not even the sweltering heat of summer could chase away the verglas that insisted on intertwining itself with his very soul.
Countless times he'd wake to the dizzying dread that would be delivered once the recognition hit that he’d be fighting for yet another day. Another day of conflict and war, another day of trying not to stumble through the tenebrous labyrinth he’d been placed in. Constantly peering through crepuscular gloom that was persistent in its fight to break him.
Caliginous skies were above him, murky waters beneath him. No matter how carefully placed his feet may have been, he’d always end up treading upon a bomb. Always. He’d always end up having it explode in his face, triggering a domino effect of bombs that would decimate the path upon which he walked once more.
He’d long ago grown tired of living.
That was before he’d felt the benevolence of her being; the tender affection she could display in such simplistic gestures. The smiles she’d flash his way, eradicating the melancholia of his day with an abundance of brightness that could melt even the most frigid of ice. The way your soft hands intertwined themselves with his own calloused hands, littered with nicks and bruises that refused to fade.
The way she’d express sympathy towards him, regardless of who he was and who he'd been. A sense of understanding that broke away any tension from the starting point. He’d been cold, soulless, just a ghost of a person wandering around the earth.
And she’d appeared in an explosion of vivid, rich colours. Saturated pinks and scintillating violets. Coruscating ceruleans clashing with exhilarating emeralds that that pushed the monotonal greys out of his world. He’d been pulled through a portal, into a world that was worth living in. Stimulating, invigorating, ephemeral.
He hadn’t known such a world existed. Not back then, in the days when a tyrannical reign of tenebrosity had dominated his life. Never then.
But somehow, he’d slipped out of that world. Falling, falling deep into lush greens and thrilling turquoises. He’d been shellshocked, as though his heart had leapt out of his mouth entirely. Latching onto her hand, interlacing her fingers with his own, a sign of trust.
Trust that she’d lead him through this vibrant world, that she’d help him exit the darkness completely.
There was a time when he didn’t care.
But that was then.
Before he’d felt the soft touch of her hands, heard the sweetness in her laughter or had her irreplaceable, precious name roll off his tongue. Everything about her was so vibrant and bright, a spotlight he wanted to focus on his entire life.
There was a time when he held nothing to live for. Dark days that persisted.
And it was funny, really. How much a person could change his life.
For now, he had everything to live for.
And until she left him and this limited cycle of happiness ended; he'll never be tired of living again.