Only You
This is from Steve's point of view. Its just a little scene showing that, contrary to popular belief he is capable of human emotions, in this case love.
I never knew that a human could hurt this much without physical injury. I have not been stabbed with a lethal knife, nor shot at with guns o arrows, yet I feel as though I have endured all of these attacks. In truth, I wish I had been attacked like that, because then I would know what to do. This empty, black space inside of me is harder to patch up than a gaping tear in my skin, and it disturbs me that another human could be the cause of all of this. I know what I must do to solve this.
Sitting here in the dark, she does not know I am here. Her room is bathed in a midnight blue- I pulled the curtain back from the window as I came in, so the moon could keep us company. She has always liked the moon, as have I. When it is your only source of light it is much appreciated. I look around the room, and notice that the pictures are all still here. I get up and go to the desk, where they are propped up in glass frames. Ahhh, yes. Here is the one of us on the school trip to the theatre. She sits in the middle, grinning as Darren fights with her over candy. And me, I sit to her left, watching the two of them, and I think how lucky I am to have the two of them. And here is the photo of us in the tree at the park. She is sitting on the highest branch, swinging her legs to and fro. Darren and I sit either side of her, just in case she should fall. That is how it always was. We let her believe she was invincible, but the two of us were always there to catch her should she need us. And I still am. She stirs as I lay down the frame, and breathes deeply. She is silent when she sleeps- Darren and I always had to elbow her to make sure she was still breathing. I cannot elbow her now. I walk silently to the bed, and perch on the very edge so as not to wake her. I block the light from the window, casting a shadow across her face. Her hair is spread out across her pillow- she looks like….. Somehow she is not real, and I have imagined her. Just to make sure I have not imagined her, I reach out and touch her. Her hand is cold: I remember when I gave her my gloves at the concert. She still insisted on holding my hand. I hold her hand now, hoping she has not forgotten. Suddenly I have an overwhelming urge to wake her, to lift her up and take her away with me and keep her forever. Instead I settle for a few more minutes in this cold, dark room with the only girl I have ever loved sleeping peacefully. I extend my other arm and run my hand down the side of her face. She doesn't stir- I am very gentle. I leave my hand where it is for a few minutes, my other holding her own.
"I love you," I whisper, hoping that wherever she is she has heard me.
I lower my arm and sigh. It is time to go. I must leave her now but I can, I will come back. I must let go of her hand. As I unwind my fingers and prepare to let go of hers, I feel the slightest pressure. She squeezes my hand.
"You too."
It was barely a whisper but I heard it as though se had shouted. She let go of my hand and turned on to her side, away from me. I stand up carefully and make my way towards the window. Turning only to leave a glittering rose by her side, I climb onto the window ledge and jump, landing quietly on my feet.
At least now I know. What it is like to love, to have someone of my own. I will always come back to her, always look after her. Always hold her hand.