The Director's Puppet

He watched her from a distance, he was always just a side character; no one would care if he was killed off, he was meaningless. He was simply a puppet in the directors hands, a man that's limbs moved in accordance to another's desires; he had no control.

He had spent his whole life dreaming of great power, of great fame and fortune. It was what he always wanted. He needed power; he needed the distraction. He had dreamt of an outgoing future, he dreamt of praises upon praises. He dreamt of being a salvation.

Deep down he knew he never would.

Somewhere in the deep confines of his loneliness, he always knew he would fail. He knew he stood no chance, but it didn't matter, he tried anyway. Instead of saving people, he scared them, he hurt them beyond repair, no bandage could fix it. In the beginning he didn't feel remorse or guilt, and it petrified him. He knew he should feel sorry, he should have felt terrible.

After time though he felt the weight of what he had done. It pinned him in bed for days, made waking up a struggle. He would wheeze and cough and cry in pain as it crushed him, as it left him a shell of his former self. He was unfamiliar with who he was, he was stripped back, clean and polished he had no meaning, he was simply one bird in a giant flock; he made no difference.

He thought that starting anew would be great at first, but he had no starting point. He was so refined that he didn't even know what he wanted to become. He thought he could be a dashing prince that galloped in the darkness on his strong-willed steed. Instead he was an empty outsider that cried in his own dark abyss of nothingness.

He needed his former power-crazed self because he didn't know how to survive without it. He didn't know the basics of living freely. Before he always had a goal, a set destination, he didn't know how to walk freely, how to 'go with the flow'.

Even as he tried to learn, no matter how far he pushed back the now overwhelming guilt, it still lingered. It grew and grew until he was surrounded; only two small eyeholes to let him see the way, but even then his vision was blurred. He felt the weight come back stronger, heavier, more constricting than ever. It was a burden, or maybe he was.

He felt that unforgettable weight for seven years, seven years of people giving him pitiful eyes, seven years of his closest friends telling him he was in fact good enough. He felt the dread of not being able to say sorry for seven years, he felt unable to say it even in his dreams, he felt the self-loathing from what he had done.

He remembered a small fraction of the weight lifting when he could finally apologise, but even then, it wasn't enough. He still gasped for breath but he was able to relax before the force of reality knocked him back.

He remembered when he met her, how he acted his bubbly self, when in fact it pained him physically and mentally to keep his one-man show together. He remembered how she smiled and his vision cleared, the dark mist creeping away. He remembered her pronouncing her love for another man, how the dark and heavy tendrils made his eyes sting with something he never thought he was capable of; how he felt that gut-wrenching emotion take over him.

He remembered when he finally felt better she took it away, he remembered when she clung to her love when he acted his creepiest, hoping he would make her laugh just once. He remembered that she didn't need him, he was unwanted, she was played a main role in the story and he was a merely a supporting character. How he was rarely featured, and she was constant.

He hated that he loved her. He hated that he forgave her every time, he hated that she brought the weight of worlds onto his shoulders while she would sing and dance and he would only smile and laugh with her despite his obvious pain. He hated that she was his greatest source of agony. He loved that she was his salvation. He loved that seeing her would fill him with warmth, he loved that she took away the weight.

He watched her as she laughed with her one and only, how she clung to him vowing to never let go, how he wished that his past transgressions never happened so he could find her first. They lived in a world of magic, it wouldn't be hard for him to make her love him, but it wouldn't be the same. He knew that if she ever came to love him it would be her decision, no third party contributions.

She turned her head and caught sight of him, he looked into her blue depths and smiled, it wasn't his creepy smile that would make her cringe, it was a smile he kept reserved for her. He watched as she politely excused herself. He felt his heart rate quicken when she walked over to him. He watched as she pulled the seat in front of him out just enough for her to sit. He mentally prepared himself for his next show, he felt the director pick up the strings as he changed into auto pilot.

"Hello Juvi, have you come to admit you love for me?"

He hated acting the way he did. He hated the fake smiles and the flirtatious winks he gave her. He hated that he couldn't be himself, which was ironic because he didn't even know who he himself was.

"Juvia wonders you always smile like you're about to cry?"

His smile faulted and he felt every boundary crumble away, he felt the eyeholes widening and the movement to his body return. He felt the wisps of darkness evaporate and he felt the weight lifting. He felt like she could see his every thought. He felt exposed, bare, and shamed. He felt vulnerable.

He looked her in the eye, his own watering. He took in her blue hair, as it framed her heart shaped face. He looked at her pale and unscarred skin that made her pink lips look even more vibrant. He looked at her long eyelashes as they blinked at him. He looked back into her eyes, the wonder and concern flowing through them like the water she controlled.

"Because every time I see the woman I love fall for another man I break a little on the inside."

He watched as her eyes brimmed, he watched as she slowly stood and walked around the table, stopping to stand in front of him. He watched as she bent down and firmly pressed her lips to his. He heard no choir bells nor did the sky open and the sun shine its rays upon them. He felt the weight dissipate and he felt air sprinting to his lungs.

In that moment he found who he was, he knew exactly who he had to be. He knew his purpose of life and he knew what he had to live for. He would forever be the man that protected her.

"Juvia never meant to hurt you."

"It doesn't matter, I'd forgive you anyway."

He smiled at her, they both knew it was true.

He felt the directors hands pull away from the strings, he felt movement return to his senses.

He felt free.


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