For You, My Dear
*100 Themes: 14- Smile*
(Questions? Ask my Tumblr! Ariesgirlolivia)
Everything he did was for her.
The way he acted, the way he thought; his mind revolved around her. And around her happiness.
But the mind works in mysterious ways. He had done a horrible thing: he killed her happiness, but in his mind, he made her life better. His love no longer had to listen to the various horrors that plague the ear canals. She was oblivious to the screams of pain, or all the bad noises that used to rouse her from her slumber at night.
But still, it all went back to her happiness. Even though, to him, it was a triumph, he made her life better after all, she was still unhappy. He had broken her heart by the destruction of her hearing, caused by the night terrors that swarmed his thinkpan each night. So he thought. What could he do to make her smile again? Then it struck him.
If she cannot hear, I shall not provide her with anything she desires hearing. I shall cease all communication for the rest of my immortal life. But how shall I stop? And how will this make her, my dear, sweet, darling, happy?
It took less than ten minutes to come up with a solution. A thread he borrowed from Porrim, under the lie that he was fixing a slight altercation in a personal area of his skeleton outfit, along with a needle, would be his eternal silencer. Knotting the thread, he touched the tip to his lower lip, feeling the sharp metal prod the skin, unsure of whether or not to continue. He forced himself to picture his love crying, unable to hear her own sobs. He never wanted to say another thing again. He knew what he was doing, and he was going through with it. In a burst of passion, the needle pierced his lip, flying straight through both lips, followed by the thread. His face exploded with pain, but this was his price. This was his punishment. This would make her happy. He quickly curled his lips into a smile, the same smile he gave to her before falling asleep on that damned beach. This would remind him of that day, for this was his price. This was his punishment. This would make his love smile. His hand began to weave the thread through his lips, his punishment sending pain through his lips. But he never stopped smiling. Once he was finished, he splashed water on his lips, washing away the dark purple blood. Blood wouldn't make his love happy, after all. A smile, his smile, would.
He could no longer eat, or speak, or laugh, or yawn. His mouth was now completely useless. But this was his punishment, this was his price. This smile, forever imbedded on his lips, would make his love, his precious Meulin, happy.