A/N: Written for
GX bingo, the non-flash version, #001 – Yuuki Juudai
Diversity Writing Challenge, b15 – write a second person POV fic
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The Sun and the Meteor
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Weren't you supposed to be the sun that shone so bright, it dragged everyone in but kept them just that little bit away from you? Weren't you supposed to be the sun that burned through all the darkness: all the fear and uncertainty and doubts? All the lonely nights and lonely days they'd otherwise have curled up with, alone? All the shards of egg and glass they'd plastered all over themselves as their armour, their barrier, their wall against the wall that you painstakingly plucked away like they were the leftover feathers from a pillow fight? Weren't you supposed to shine brightly when everyone else was lost, when everyone else had given up hope, because you wouldn't and couldn't give up and somehow or other you'd find a way to save the day – or year – or the whole world..? And you've done all those things before, so weren't you supposed to be able to always do them, always shine high up in the sky where everyone else looked up at you but never touched, never dimmed?
So how did they dim you? How did they turn the sun in the sky into the falling meteor that would finish the world in the six days it took to hit – or something like that? How did you lose your place in the sky and plummet? How did you lose that comforting and inviting shine and become the very fire of hell itself, burning everything and everyone, including the world you'd saved at least twice already and the people you'd drawn in like moths to your flame?
Weren't you supposed to be the everlasting flame? The one that people lit and only people could put out? The one where the rain could only make grow more fierce and glow like those candles on the paper boats that drifted down the river and guided the lost spirits back home? But you're the one who needs guiding now, aren't you, and who's strong enough to stand the heat of the meteor, the hellfire, you've become to get close enough to do the leading for you? Oh, they'll try, because your dizzying, hypnotic spell is so strong that even when it threatens to burn them all to ash, they follow you. But could so easily wind up broken or, worse, dead for it. And there might be an impossible you can't do, a day when the sun doesn't rise from the east that marks the end of the world. But they'll try for you because there's no world without the sun, even when the sun's become a dark flaming meteor that's about to crush them all.
They tried – and they did it, finally, but your fire'd almost gone out. The cold son, the candle almost out of wax and flickering so dimly a breath of air would have snuffed it out and now the remains clustered around you, protecting you, becoming that heat barrier you'd had yourself before and matches to try and light you up again and that's useless for a sun because it burns so much brighter, so much more fiercely than any fire a human can make, but it keeps you going until your burning in the sky again: as the sun who'll turn Icarus' wings to ash if he gets to close, but will light the way home and to happiness for everyone else – but you're still a little dim. The meteor in you is gone, but there's still a black piece of rock in the centre of that sun, in your heart.