A/N: I've been busy, for that, I've been watching my ideas rot in my mind and I realised I couldn't allow that to happen. Thus this. This short one-shot is not at all straight-forward and it is confusing, so by all means, feel free to say that one wasn't able to understand where it was going at the end of it. For that I apologise now for any confusion that will be caused later.
Especially written for Chloe, who gave me something I would hold close forever.
'I am there, yet seemingly not there.'
We had met like all, through the glass and through small discreet shared gazes.
She had caught sight onto me, seemingly like all the others through thin glass. She walked by over days, weeks, months and a year. She always came by the morning and came back in the night. My attention was caught like the others with me and it was unnerving that she would choose someone else other than me.
As the seasons changed, I realised she gazed only at me through a thin glass. Furthermore, there was that spark, now and then, it felt as if she was behind the glass with me, in front of my body, holding and touching me. Yet funnily, she didn't dare touch me when I was asked to come out from behind the thin glass to get introduced to her.
She just looked at me but with that, I could feel everything about her towards me.
Her mere presence was knocking into the hollow chest of mine; I felt as if I was given a new life.
Seemingly so, I was lucky that I had somehow meant something to her. With that, I was able to follow her home that particular cold night and gaze over her prone form when she lay on her bed, drifting off silently to sleep. The next day, I never left; I was still there in her room. My gaze on her, it never let off her. However for her, she looked at me from time to time, redness creeping over her face as the time passed. In the end, eventually, then did she take hold of me and hold me close; had I never felt so alive.
Yes, so very alive.
I stayed near her in her room following that day. Never have I left her room other than that. She lived alone, in a small apartment that looked over the entertainment district. I didn't know what she worked as, but she never complained, she never fussed, she came home to me and looked at me soundly. Happy to spend another day, another night, with me.
She would tell me over and over again that I have skin, fair and beautiful like snow, hair, dark like the night and eyes that glow in the dark along with a gaze that puts her at ease. She would repeat, never a tire to her, that I have a built that is toned and lean and a face that she can never forget. She never forgets to call out to me, using a certain word that she says best describes everything I put out.
She says I'm cute.
Delightful to the bottom as it seems; however, I do not even have a fraction that labels me as delightful.
She would play with my hair and hold me close, never letting go until the next day when she had to leave for work. I stayed mostly in her bed. Nonetheless, there were times where I would sit on her desk, or even stand by the wooden stand that looked out of her window, waiting for her return. Some nights, when she was too tired to hold me, she was far from happy to simply have me beside her, watching her as she made her way into a different world.
I could never sleep, somehow. However, I knew if I were to fall asleep one day, I wouldn't be able to see her for centuries to come. Or even, not see her at all again. I wouldn't be able to feel her skin against mine, her hot breath against my face and so much more she offers to give me.
Yet, as seasons passed, I realised she never went further and neither could I. I never could. She hovered over my lips once, but pulled to my forehead in the end. I yearned for her to kiss me once, but she never did. As the coldness came by the end of the year, I noticed how she started to distance herself from me. I still looked over her, my gaze never leaving her; but hers did so, ever so frequently. I was sceptical that she would leave me and forget that I was there, but as the seconds passed every day, I realised that I was being replaced.
She had brought back another with her one cold night. Another cold night. Then and there, I found myself looking at what was once me, just that I wasn't there beside her, giving her the pleasure and happiness that I could once give. I was forced to sit in the corner of her room, while the other looked at me, mockingly from the bed. That was my spot.
Anger was my secondary emotion, and it started to build every night, watching the same nightmare run over and over again. What was once a dream was now something I feared and trembled to gain control over. Yet as this horror grew, it engulfed me completely. Covering me in a shade of gloom that ate away any possible light.
I didn't dare move from my spot, I could never move, seemingly so. Even though I wanted, I knew I couldn't. The fire that burned within me just seemed to have vanished and I felt as if it was better if I was placed behind the glass and live within envy and face reality. I rather live in delusional joy than face the cloak of darkness that resides in front of me.
She looked as if ready to send me back, give me sleep, or put me at ease. However, I was wrong. The more I believed that she would relieve me from this nightmare, the bleaker it became. The gloomier it got and the colder I became. How alive I once was.
I was never alive, then.
I could see her real pleasure. The ecstasy that the other could seemingly give to her was ironically out of my hands. Her actions were bold, her touches passionate and everything about her became totally different. Then why had she brought me home, why, when she could have chosen the other instead of me in the first place.
I felt cheated.
A season passed and the air was cool enough for her to realised that I was still in her room, looking at her; just now that my gaze had lost its shine and had become scarred with dust and dirt. Dust and dirt, the nightmare of us all. Unexpectedly, she looked at me, somehow remembering that I was here first, her first, the first one that had caught her eyes through the thin glass among the rest.
Her eyes seemingly softened at the sight of me; me that was pushed into the corner to face the darkness that would ultimately engulf me, all alone. She had then taken hold of me and smoothed my dirty face, a seemingly familiar touch that I had first experienced. I longed for her, so much.
She had cleaned me up after that and when I was fresh and clean like before, she took hold of my body and held me close to her own. She looked at me like long ago, or what seemed was long ago. Then again, it was short-lived for me to even enjoy for the other had grabbed her attention like how it replaced me as it had done. It was shattering, but at least, I was grateful to her that I was no longer in the corner, alone with the shrouding darkness.
More time passed and I realised that I was getting tired. My hollow chest felt as if it was being eaten up and my eyes started to lose focus on what was around me. I could no longer watch her move around her room, I could no longer see a smile that was not meant for me. I could no longer see her.
I could not.
Have I turned blind?
At least it saves me from having to watch the nightmare over and over again.
At least now I live in true darkness.
Is this sleep…I wonder.
The season had changed, I could tell, for the sun was hot in me. Now I was made to stand near the wooden stand by her window or what I would guess; I could hear the cars below and it was all I could know about where I was made to stand. Had she noticed that I had turned blind, I was sure she would not have noticed. Too preoccupied with the other, I'm sure. I wouldn't know whether she still looked at me, I have turned blind, what more can I do?
I can't speak.
I could never, even if I wanted to.
In this hot season, I knew when night came. The air around would turn cold and I knew that night had come. Furthermore, I would be able to hear more hustle and bustle outside; she lived in the entertainment district. Then unpredictably there was this night, she had come home and touched me lightly on the arm. I was surprised, but what could I do, I could not longer see her.
I have long forgotten how she looked like and I longed to be able to see her face.
If it was even possible.
Her hold on me was soft and I could feel her breath against my face, so nostalgic.
Her voice was the same like before, tender and caring, sweet and subtly fragile. Then and there she said it so quietly, and I thought I had heard her wrongly. She had said my name, after so long. In a yearning voice, I heard my name. If I would be able to see her, I would feel so much more alive, but having to hear her voice once again, saying my name, it was enough to satisfy me.
Then again, why had she suddenly remembered me?
She still hadn't noticed that I had turned blind, but I realised that she returned to softly holding my hand from time to time, standing with me by the window and living within comfortable silence.
I wished that this would continue, even if I lived in darkness.
At least, I wasn't living in absolute darkness, where sleep resided.
However, it seemed that I wasn't as lucky as I believed, for this small happiness was once again short-lived… It was in the dead night, when she had long gone to sleep with the other. Then and there it felt it. There was something cool against my face and I suddenly felt heavy and broken. I think I was able to see some light before sleep came over me. I was sure I heard a loud crack and nothing more.
Just that crack.
How I love you.
There was no answer for her.
A/N: Until the next update, I thank all for your undying patience.