There was just something about her.
It drew him, attention and careful stare, to her jade eyes.
It made him make weird decisions, ones that came from nowhere and kept him at her side.
A bodyguard. He was to be her bodyguard, for only a short time, at first, but it was an excuse as much the overwhelmingly true concern for her wellbeing.
Those flowers, back in the church, they all smiled with their petals glowing brightly in the sunlight because she smiled. Who couldn't return the gesture when a smile of such pure radiance, shining from her eyes, the curve of her lips, the glow from her skin, lit such a beautiful face?
How could a patch of darkness withstand the sunshine?
It was a question he asked himself, once, maybe twice, after she smiled at him. He found that it also didn't matter like it should. He was drawn to her still the same. Perhaps darkness wished for the light, in the end, even if it caused pain. Wasn't darkness the opposite of light, and the two could never mix? If it was supposed to hurt, though, it never did. Not for him.
Not for a little while.
In the night he would lie awake wondering why the sun still shone, and realized it was her. Her. Even when not in the same room she affected his thoughts, and lit his dim world enough for him to see.
Perhaps then he wasn't really darkness, but, as he remembered clearly in his mind's eye, one of those small plants wanting to bloom, but never could with no sunlight, no warmth. He couldn't be darkness. Not with the way she affected him, how much he grew towards her, drawn to her like a flower reaching for the first ray of the sun. He pondered this deeply, but conversed with her normally, watched her carefully, almost in silent awe.
Bodyguard. A flower. Not darkness because there was no pain. And he'd taken his turn to smile for her, he recalled with a feathery sense of ease.
But as a bodyguard he eventually questioned himself thunderously with the burden of her life resting still in his arms. As a little stemming plant he withered away, if he ever was such a thing at all.
It fell, the night, as she did, slowly sinking from his sight. And the darkness. And the pain. He'd found it, or it found him. It didn't matter. His sunlight was gone, forever masked by wave and wonder, buried beneath the knot of his heart that begged to reject the ache. If he'd ever felt so empty before he would never remember it again. This moonless black swallowed him whole, and his hand that covered his frantic eyes could not be seen.
Through this he dwelled, seemingly. The dim before was day compared to now.
Like a wanderer who was lost he fell upon her doorstep over and over again, and curled at her feet. He could not see her face. There he sat until the dream left him alone and awake in a world where not even her feet graced any longer. Her image was clear, but faded as he saw it. Nothing could match the essence of her presence. Cruel mockeries did the shriveled heart and weary mind no good. And he fell. He fell even as he walked firmly with stone glazing his gaze.
'You came,' she had said in a dream—or was it, he speculated steadily with the press of her shoulders on his, and slender fingers gripping his taunt arm, 'Even though you're about to break. That's a good sign.'
Looking up, the sky was swathed in grey and promised rain as the words whispered once more from memory. Break? Broken, but alive. There was nothing holding him steady anymore, nothing he could truly feel or see, but his faith held fast.
'So why did you come?'
Sorrow. Longing. The need to remember.
He closed his eyes.
"Forgiveness."
Another reason to smile, to reach for something, someone.
"By who?" came the question.
"You," he murmured, refusing to open his eyes and see the painful emptiness of the space between him and the familiar voice.
If she were there—if only—she would smile, and he would try to return it, though his lips were weak to even a slight upturn.
"What for?" she asked.
Opening his eyes, bewilderment flooded him. Those were never spoken in remembrance, and never were words so clear. She was there. Bright and shining. Wonderful and lovely. It pained him, too see her, and know that if he moved towards her, for they faced each other, she would vanish. It terrified him, though he could hardly fathom it under the depth of the peace and small glimmer of hope.
She smiled, and he found he could not endure the emotion pouring from her jade eyes. Part of him was shamed in the core of his fleeting happiness, and he clung to it as a safeguard for when this place would disappear and take her from him yet again.
"Well?" she inquired, not quite keeping the playfulness from her tone as she stepped forward.
He moved back, aware of the situation, and begging to have it last no matter how much it would hurt when she was gone.
"You know why," he said quietly, admitting the bane of his existence and the reason why he feared her touch as he yearned for it.
"I know why you're so upset," she agreed readily, "Why you're so close to breaking. But you haven't." She said this with sadness behind her gem-like gaze. She shifted, and her clothing sighed with the movement. So intent was his stare on the ground that he hardly noticed until her face filled his vision. "I'm glad for that."
"I…we lost you. Because of me," he reminded with a numbness spreading from his tongue, devouring him.
"But you were still strong."
"Barely," he breathed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." And she touched his face.
Electricity struck him, bolting him to the spot, unable to move from the warmth pervading the numbness from the crux of where her palm rested. He had to shut his eyes against the forgiveness, though she doubled her efforts at making him realize she laid no blame. Not with him; never on him. He was confused. How could a patch of darkness withstand the sunshine?
"Are you going away again?" he had to ask. This black would drink in the light greedily when it was not his place to do so. Not as he felt it. She had no shadows about her, and he was not about to burden her as one.
"That's not a request, is it?" she giggled.
"No!" he gasped, forgetting himself as he threw his arms around her. "Never," he insisted, tightening his hold. He hardly realized just how real she was braced against him, startled at first, but slipping her arms around him tightly. "I couldn't stand it if you were gone again," he whispered solely to himself, unable to voice aloud what haunted him daily.
"I haven't gone anywhere," she said. "I'm still here."
"But for how long?" he asked to the empty air.
Looking up, the sky was wide and the blue of midnight. Streaks of clouds lazed for the distant horizon, and the air smelled clean, refreshed. He could hardly swallow it. The full moon glowed in his patch of darkness, missing the sun, but he felt a little stronger, like he could travel a little further with what little light he had. In time the sun would rise again and warm him and allow him to see clearly once again. He had to surrender to that belief.
How could his darkness withstand her sunlight?
A little at a time; just a little bit at a time.
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Random Clorith! It's good for the soul though, so enjoy it!
Dedicated to The Great Naxa since she's the one who introduced me to Clorith. Thanks bestie!