Nothing But Cruel
I am always here. Always waiting. My door is open should he decide that what he wants is what he's been pushing away for all this time. My heart is open. It is up to him to cut through his stubbornness and his pride and tell me how he feels, that he wants me.
I know he wants me. I've seen it in the crystal blue depths of his eyes on more than one occasion. His eyes are so very intoxicating and I've lost myself in them more times than I really should. They're fierce and intense and they hold a wisdom that few I've met have ever dreamed of. They're eyes that have seen the destruction and chaos of war.
And in them, I see his heart.
There is more than just pain behind those beautiful blues. There is a caring side to the man. There is a chance that he loves. He cares. He has always, in the time that I have known him, cared. The crew is his greatest care and Serenity has nearly as much of him in her grasp.
He is a man of passion though should he be asked, he'll never admit it. It's an endearing quality, I've found, though it's really quite frustrating too. I'd give anything to see further behind the curtains shielding his most inner thoughts and feelings. If I could.
I can't let him in as I wish he'd do for me, however. It would be nothing but cruel. I cannot allow myself to get his hopes up that there may be something between us more than the banter we already share for I am dying. I have known this for a few years now and it hasn't gotten any easier.
I had thought that leaving the Companion Training House and taking up with the crew of Serenity would put space between me and anyone else. I had thought it would help me keep people at a distance and that it would help me not make any meaningful relationships.
I had been wrong.
I had fallen for him, him, a pirate of all the men in the 'verse and I had fallen hard. He had been (and still is) as damaged as I felt and I had been lost. I needed him. I needed to be around him. And so I told him, "you want me. You want me on your ship."
Months later, here I am, pining – no, longing – for him and wishing things could be different. They can't be different though. I will not put him through any more pain than he has seen in his lifetime. He has seen a lot and the last thing he deserves is to lose something else. For that is what will happen.
I am dying. If we are ever to get past our ways and make something of the feelings between us, he will have to face the fact that I will soon die. He will have to watch me die. He will hold my hand and wipe my tears away as we whisper our final goodbyes.
He will break once I'm gone, I am certain of it, and he will get back up on his feet but he will never be the same again. What is left of him now, I cannot bear to damage any further.
And so I wait. I wait for him to slip up and I continue to exchange cutting words and banter with him because that is our way. Who am I to change things when the result can only be more pain than either of us can bear?