You laugh, your smile lighting up the room, an ethereal glow about you that everyone sees, but only I notice. He wraps you in his arms, and I would give anything to trade places with him. To be the man you needed, the one you chose. But I wasn’t, and I’m not. I was broken, far more broken for anyone to fix, at least at the time.
You came to me, the night after the battle, found me in the Head Boy suite, alone with my thoughts. We didn’t speak, because we didn’t need words. That time had long passed. We’d spent a year talking, getting comfortable, understanding.
That night we made love, an awkward, but meaningful sort of love, neither of us sure of ourselves.
As I watched you sleep, the moonlight dancing across your bare skin, I knew I was too broken for you, too damaged for even your healing light to fix.
In the morning, you were gone.
The next time I saw you, what felt like an eternity and an instant, the two of you were together. You looked happy. Content.
I smile. I’ve lost you, but I’m happy if you’re happy. . . Your face sparkles with mischief as you bring out the cake, a youthful exuberance in your step as you place it in front of her, your lips brushing once. You drape your arm around her shoulder as the room sings, and I wish with everything it was my shoulder that arm was around. That it were my lips you would kiss. But it’s not, and they’re not, because I was terrible and I pushed you away.
I went to you, the night after the battle, knowing you’d be in the Head Boy suite. Alone, thinking, mourning, putting it all on your conscience. We sat together by the fire, fingers intertwined, a comfortable silence settling in the air. We knew each other better than we did ourselves, words were just an unnecessary addition that would have served as nothing more than a distraction.
That night we made love, an awkward, but meaningful sort of love, neither of us sure of ourselves.
As I watched you sleep, I knew I wasn’t good enough for you, the kindness in your heart matched only by the caring that sat alongside it. I wasn’t good enough and knew I never would be.
I left before you awoke.
The next time I saw you, both sooner and longer than expected, the two of you were together. You looked happy. Content.
I smile. I’ve lost you, but I’m happy if you’re happy. . . I frown, looking between my sister and my personal hero.
She laughs, leaning in to her husband, and she looks happy, but I can see it. It’s hidden, just behind the surface. In the eyes. I see the pain, the sadness, the longing.
She casts a quick glance to the other side of the room and my heart hurts as her mask slips just a fraction. I see her true self and it nearly breaks me.
I look at him, leaning into his wife’s red hair, whispering something into her ear that causes her to swat him playfully. He looks happy, but I can see it. It’s hidden, just behind the surface. In the eyes. I see the regret, self-doubt, the longing.
He casts a quick glance to the other side of the room and my heart hurts as his mask slips just a fraction. I see his true self and it nearly breaks me.
I frown, looking between my sister and my personal hero. I know what’s in their heads, and once again my heart aches at the truth of it.
Lies.
I frown. They’ve lost each other, and neither will ever be happy without the other.