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I never thought I’d regret a joke, and yet I never thought I would be so happy to have killed this man. Sometimes, I love him. This beauty. This joy, too good for the wicked world we were forced into. I never thought I’d regret apologizing, and yet I never thought I’d be forever tied to this small mistake. Sometimes, I hate him. This one that haunts me. This man, who stole my days and ruined my nights.
It’s not original. And I hate that. I hate that we started with a poor attempt at a prank, I hate that we became so closely entwined as a result. I hate that we cried over each other in that circle. I hate that the loss stung so expectedly and yet I was still surprised with my reaction.
Maybe if it’d killed someone else instead. Maybe if he’d heard the whispers of “Oh, this one’s real,”. Maybe if it hadn’t spawned so close. Maybe if I hadn’t thought of it. Maybe if Martyn hadn’t put that thought in my head to begin with.
He’s so tied to the Watchers, even in his hatred, even in his denial. Even if he tries to push away, to be a Listener instead. He’s just like them. Maybe this is all his fault. Maybe it's all their fault. IT IS ALL THEIR FAULT. These games were theirs in the first place.
But it isn’t. Not really. They made first contact, back when things were simple, but I’m the one who really let them. I’m the reason they have this control now. Over me. Over my narrative. And even if it was their directive to gather my friends for this, I still did it. I still do it.
I have seen so many of my friends die. Over. And over. And over again. I’ve killed so many of my friends. But they never truly die, NONE OF US EVER TRULY DIE.
Is that better? No. No, I wish we could. It’d be so much simpler. Some of them get the chance to fade away, to rest in oblivion. But even then, some of them were forced in. Some of them were plucked out of our own happy lives and forced to join in these never ending death games. It’s sick.
I’ve gotten off topic..
When I saw him again, when we awoke for the second time, I was ready to forget the past. Everyone else seems to have. But when we met, it was clear somehow deep down he still felt that now-foreign love for me. And I took advantage of that. It was easy, even. Simple survival tactics. He probably hadn’t even figured out the game yet. Hadn’t hardened himself in preparation. I had. I’d remained aware, and I knew what was coming. He did get me back, he has a way with payback. But it wasn’t nearly as steep. And I remained further on top when Mumbo went with me. And in the end, he even lost the payback. We were enemies then. It was simple enough. He’s so simple. I miss him. No. I miss then. No. I…
It didn’t last long anyways. Trickery can get you anywhere and everywhere. And thievery is second nature when lives are on the line. But he’s so bullheaded sometimes. And so naive others. I love that about him. And hate it at the same time.
But yet.
It wasn’t even our choice this time. It wasn’t our mistake either. It was merely the Watchers’ will. They’d seen enough of us being enemies, they wanted us back the way we were. As if we ever actually were in love.
Were we?
It hurts to say yes, but equally to say no.
He would call it love, in those cold desert nights. Whisper sweet words in sweeter tones. He would put himself as close to me as possible, “to keep warm”, he’d say. Even though he was always too warm. A house fire in the middle of a freeze. In those moments, he’d call it love. He’d dream out loud of the life we could have together in that desert. Of ever expanding. He’d ask me to forget about our situation, to dream with him for a moment. I rarely could, but he was patient. I hated that. Hated? Hate. Hate? No. Hated. Now I miss that. Now I’ve pushed him past the point of patients. And yet? Apparently not. How has he never lost patients with me? With how many times I’ve lost patients with him? I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve Him. He doesn’t deserve me.
Why did I decide to hurt him so much back then?
Rebellion.
Not against him, although he did fall in the crossfire. Rebellion against my puppeteers. Rebellion against the Watchers. To show them they can’t hold me! THEY CAN’T HOLD ME!
They do..
But if they wanted us to be together, then sorry for him, but I can’t accept that. And, I have always had a thing for cookies.
So I cheated.
Is it really cheating if you see him more as your captor than your lover?
I cheated.
B was such a breath of fresh air. I felt free with him. I felt wanted with him. I felt..
I try never to consider what he went through while I did this. I saw how it affected him. At least, from a distance. He became more reckless, he became more reclusive. He feigned joy whenever I was around, but I could tell he was less genuine these days. He would be in that panda reserve every day. Others, he would seem nearly mad. Not angry, never. But broken. Honestly, for all my talk of feeling trapped, I can’t imagine how he felt in those days. I hope he hurt as much as I did. No I don’t.
When B passed, that was my fault. Not directly, although, not far off. And yet, he comforted me. He tried to help me through it. And honestly, that made it worse.
For all my complaining, though, it was my own fault when we died that last death. It hurt. I’ve had an ever present ringing in my ears ever since. It’s the least I deserve.
By the fourth time, this was getting old. I was becoming more openly hostile. Bombs falling from the heavens killing several at a time, all my doing. I mean, I definitely wasn’t the only one, but I was good at it. Really good.
Is it good? To be so skilled at harming those closest? At killing all your friends in the hopes that you may live a few more seconds? Being good at that, should I be proud? I am proud, sometimes, but I try to keep those moments private. And once again, we were openly hostile towards each other. People would see glimpses of him being friendly towards me, but it would never last. And I loved when I killed him. I killed him. Again.
That's three times yet his final life blood was on my hands. And for what? Why do I keep doing this? Why does he keep letting me? When can we go home? When can we go back to those soft desert nights?
Do I miss him?
The spirits rarely contact the living after their losses, and yet, I heard him cheering for me. Even after all of that, he wanted me to win. No, I was probably imagining it. How could he want the man who’s hurt him so much to win?
People try to say I helped him win, when that time came. I didn’t. Never. I wouldn’t have. He did that all on his own, and I’m so proud, and even greater, it scared me. To see what happens when he was truly left alone. To see what that made him. To see what I’d almost made him countless times before. He’d blame the Keepers' will, for some of it at least. But he still fell into that role so perfectly. He seemed so confused when he won, but honestly, he was the most deserving of us all. To keep a kind heart for as long as he did prior. When he was crowned with the title of Earth, that too was so fitting. I’d been crowned The Sun so long prior, so fitting in its irony. To see him revolve around my life while I actively harm him and his occupants. While I melt the ice and burn the woods. The Earth needs The Sun, and yet, to The Sun, it’s nothing.
That’s not true. He is my Sun. And my Earth. He is everything and nothing to me.. Gods, I love him... I don’t deserve to, but I do all the same.
But the worst of it? He finally remembered. He knew. He confirmed as much. Called me out for all my previous wrongs. Honestly, for a while it felt nice. For once he could fight back with the full context of our lives together. And yet, at the same time, he still eventually forgave me. And when I was given full use of my wings, for even a moment, I took that time to fly with him. To show him how beautiful the world could be from above. And I’m so glad I’d set him back down before they’d been clipped again. But it would’ve been beautiful to fall together. No. I’m glad he was safe. I’m glad. He was safe.
It’s hard, even now, to try and say we can be friends again. He still continues to forgive me, even after everything I’ve done to him. I still want him, even if I don’t deserve it. I do think I love him, how else would I explain this.
I do love you, Scar.