"What the stuff is this thing?"
Cleaning out my closet had taken a weird turn. There was the pile of clothing I never wore, a few old diaries I had forgotten to burn, the box of used guitar picks. These things were expected. What wasn't expected was a grey lump, the size of my fist, shoved in the very back corner where it couldn't hope to see the light of day again. Not that I ever let the light shine in my house anyway. You know what I mean.
Too dumbstruck by its presence I've been hesitating to remove it from its residence. It has to be back there for a reason, and it may be my overactive imagination but it doesn't seem to like me all that much. Which is a weird thought to have about a grey mass that is clearly not sapient, but there it is anyway, and it's making me anxious. I have enough skeletons in my closet without whatever this thing is, which is clearly judging me. You can't see it, but just imagine it is. Because it is. Definitely.
I know I need to take it out, get a good look at it, try to figure out what it is and how it got there, but something about it fills me with dismay, preventing me from so much as touching it. I try to clear a path, hoping the bare light from my bedroom will pierce the darkness enough to aid me, but no such luck. All I can see is a grey blob. I take a deep breath I don't need and exhale with as much force as I can muster.
"Okay. You can do this. Maybe it doesn't like you. Who cares? It needs to get out of your space."
Before I can think better of it I lash my hand out, grabbing it with the full intention of forcefully bringing it into view. This proved to be a big mistake.
"Ow! It bit me!"
Okay, it didn't literally bite me, but it is colder than ice and harder than stone, further cementing my hypothesis that it just doesn't like me. I rub my hand to warm it - well, as warm as I get anyway - frowning at it.
"What the dip did I do to you?"
Impassive, it doesn't answer. Being inanimate, I knew it wouldn't but it's frustrating all the same. But now I'm a vampire on a mission, and that's to get the squatter out of my house. Or at least my closet. Baby steps, am I right? Of course I am. I drop down to my knees to go through the pile of clothing I had less-than-carefully thrown together, grabbing the first shirt I find. Wrapping it around my hands I reach back into the closet very slowly, not wanting to startle it. Again, I know it isn't alive, but my gut tells me that that's the correct line of reasoning. Maybe it knows something I don't. Wouldn't be the first time.
The cold seeps through the shirt, but I'm finally able to remove it. With a triumphant grin I float out of my room, down the ladder, into the living room, where I gently place it on my couch. Now in the light, I'm able to get a much better look at it, but it just confuses me more. It's still definitely a grey lump, the size of my fist, but beyond that it's hard to say what it is. Whatever it's made of, it looks… unyielding. Like it doesn't want to talk about it. Your guess is as good as mine as to what "it" is. I float around it, checking it from every angle, but it doesn't grant me any further insight.
"Okay, fine. Be difficult."
I turn my back on it, refusing to play its mind games. That doesn't last long. Abruptly beset with the desire to know more about it I turn, kneeling so that it's eye level, the one angle I had neglected to try. Suddenly, I'm struck with an epiphany.
"Is it… are you a heart?"
It doesn't answer, of course. Glob forbid it make things easy on me. No, it clearly intends to make me do all the work here. Typical. I stand again, towering over it. "Alright, let's review. There's an ice-cold, rock hard grey blob of a heart in the back corner of my closet, like it owns the place. I guess weirder things have happened." Another intake of air I don't need. This time I hold it for several moments before slowly exhaling. "Okay heart, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to make dinner and you're going to pretend not to exist. Good? Good."
Satisfied with my plan I rise, walking to the kitchen. It's when I open the fridge and reach for a strawberry that I feel something wet on my face. It's only when I touch my cheek that I realize I've been crying, quietly and effortlessly. I blink hard, stunned. "Why…?"
I'm gonna drink the red from your pretty pink face.
And the realization hits me like the morning sun. I whip my head around to stare at the heart with mounting horror. I know whose heart that is.
"...Holy fluff."
As fast as I can I run back into the living room, dropping my knees to once again meet it at eye level. I open my mouth to speak, but quickly closing it again when I realize I have no words to say. There's too much going through me. Fear. Love. Sadness. Anxiety. Confusion. Guilt. I settle on guilt. Guilt, because her heart had been thoughtlessly thrown in the back of a dark and unfeeling closet, where you put things you're tired of looking at. Guilt, because without regular doses of love and laughter - both of which were my responsibility to provide - her heart has grown cold and hard. Guilt, because I did this. Guilt, because I hurt her. My other half.
I'm still crying, and I don't bother to wipe the tears.
I draw upon centuries of musical practice to steady my voice. I'm reasonably successful. I'm still not sure if it can hear me, but I desperately hope it can. I hope it can understand.
"So, you're… you were her heart?" I reach out to it again, cupping it in both hands to gingerly lift it up as I straighten my back. The biting cold feels like talons, piercing through my hands, possessively holding me against the muscle. It's a pain even my regenerative capabilities cannot protect me against. I'm on my own. "I'm…" What am I? Do I know? Maybe not, but this is a long time coming. I have to fix this. She'd do the same for me. Maybe she already has.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I abandoned you. I'm sorry I left you on your own with your thoughts, even though we both know you have a tendency to self-destruct if left to your own devices. I'm sorry that I let you push me away, when I knew you were struggling. I'm sorry that… that I drained you, took what was bright and beautiful and left you this grey mess. I'm sorry that you needed to harden yourself just to get through every day. I was supposed to protect you. I'm sorry."
I never said you had to be perfect!
"When did it fall apart? Was the Door Lord thing you trying to get my attention? To let me know you still need me?" I sighed, wondering if my own heart was breaking. "I was just so scared. I can't even remember of what anymore. I just couldn't stand… I mean, I didn't think…" I stood, my gaze never wavering from the heart.
I have a problem with honesty. If I'm realistic about my own weaknesses - and I'm gradually getting better in this category - it's possibly my greatest failure as a person. Ironically, this is my greatest motivator to push through this. Because she always treated me as a person, not the monster we both knew I could become. One last time, I steel myself.
"Your original owner is a judgmental woman. But you know? I wouldn't have her any other way. Because that's just a small part of who she is, and without it she wouldn't be…" I let my eyes slide close. "I guess, if I think about it… it's not that I wanted her to stop judging me. I just wanted her to judge me worthy of her." I rested my head against the muscle. "Please forgive me."
My eyes open again when I felt the talons retract. I can't - won't - stop my smile when I realized that the heart had regained slightly more than the ghost of its original pink, just a smidge softer than it was moments ago.
It's a strong start.
My smile widens when I realize my thought was in her voice, but I'm at a loss on what my next step should be. I'm not exactly an expert on emotional maturity, but one idea comes to me. "Hey… remember when she worked too hard, and we went on midnight flights to show her that there's a world beyond her own head?" I don't wait for an answer, I just open my window and smirk down at my soon-to-be-passenger. "Come on. You're hangin' with me tonight."