Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own this franchise or any of its characters.

Nepenthe

Nepenthe, I doubt that anyone knows the definition of that word. It is something that numbs pain. I'm sure everyone has one. From cigarettes to chocolate to third degree burns to the very sound of someone's voice there is always something for someone that numbs the pain. I think I've found my nepenthe.

It was not noticeable at first, the numbing of the previously aching bones. A whisper to stop the creaking, a smile to stop the burns, a dance to make my heart beat correctly was all that was received. Simply I was a brief refreshment to the broken me. I think that I was blind then. I think I'm still blind but only half.

The pain got number faster as we got to know each other. It was strange and I tried to ignore it. I hated the way he got fired up. Could I not fire him up the way that the other mighty one did? Obviously not. Ranting and raving about the win, the thrill of the fight I felt replaced, I was replaced. Then something inside him changed. Perhaps the flames of whatever it was burnt out, perhaps I fired him up at last. The conversation was short but quite insightful for someone of a clearly lower intelligence.

"Fight with me. You'll get me fired up."

"Who says I can?"

"You do."

"Hmn, I do."

"So show me, duel me, get me fired up."

That nepenthe remains a little too far away from me though. I wonder if he knows how I think of him. I wonder of the nepenthe feels fired up by me truly. Our fights are cruel and hard to hold to. I get to enthusiastic, the fight gets too drastic, he storms off and I say nothing at all.

If I could open wide and show my heart to him then maybe we could be more than friends. I'd like that. Sadly it won't happen, every time I try to break free from the shell built to prevent pain it becomes reinforced by anxiety. I am not naturally nervous but the shaking of my hands is impossible to ignore. If I could I would tell him how I feel. The anxiety crawls into my throat and with a word stuck I choke. I think that if I let him inside he'll not hesitate to smash me apart. Not out of malice but the natural compulsion to get me fired up. He'd even harm me if he thought that it get me fired up.

I stare him in the eyes. He stares back at me.

"Is there something wrong?" Nepenthe asks me.

"Nothing." I reply with a smile.

"Are you sure? I know you."

Not as well as he thinks. He doesn't know that in his own terms of the words he gets me fired up. I would throw away everything I have ever achieved for a night with him. To make the pain go away for eternity. To have his body intertwined with me. I would even cry for him. I open my mouth to speak and tell him how I feel.

"I-"

"Yes?"

"I want you to pick up some milk today."

My cowardice prevents this from even being a possibility. I've never panicked before.

I told him. He didn't reciprocate. The words he keeps repeating do not mean what I thought. The thrill of the fight is the only thing he loves. That is what he craves yet only humans with a certain adoration for him can fire him up. I am merely a sparring partner to him. What a foolish person I am. Falling in love with such a mighty man that can't love me at all. My nepenthe is the thing that causes me pain now. How am I to manage when the numbing of pain is painful in it's own right? How am I to manage when my teammate himself is the source of the burning and broken souls. I think that I might, may, ould, should, love him. I fell in love with nepenthe.

This story of mine is one of repetition. It's all repeating itself. Those men that get fired up don't think of me the way I do of them but for the first time I convinced myself otherwise. I met someone that wasn't painful. I wish I never confessed. It's what ruined everything, everything, everything. In this cycle of mine the words are always some kind of joke, a trick to see if I can be tamed. I'll let him go this time. No more problems, no more tears, I won't let this heart of mine beat for anyone ever again. I'll be my own nepenthe until he understands that my adoration of him will never disappear, dissipate, I won't let it. Then perhaps my nepenthe will see that I am the only one that can get him fired up without fighting. I love him. Let the nepenthe numb me one last time at last. Let the nepenthe leech the pain and the ache from my bones. Let the nepenthe tell me something sweet and false. Let the nepenthe break me, fix me. Let the nepenthe make me deliciously numb and finally understand the fire.