And so it was. The story could not be rewritten. He had hoped and wished and prayed, but in the depths of his soul he knew that his life had already been tarnished by desire, adoration, desperation, hatred, longing, love. He was a lone wolf, a lost soul that would never understand the blessings that life could bring. He would forever be in the shadows, craving the light, warmth, wonder that the rest of the world revelled in…
"What is it? I don't understand. What exactly do you want from me?" Her eyes were soft and bright, burning with the heat that seemed to dwell in her heart, swelling up through her body and peaking in her green irises. Auburn curls danced with every breath of the wind, rising and falling like waves, framing her defined cheekbones and flowing like the ebb of the sea. For a moment, all of time stood still, and everything froze as hard as the ice that exuded from her stare. Even the constant breeze that whistled through the trees and the rain that fell from the heavens was forgotten, as realisation dawned and he stuttered his response.
"Lily… it is impossible to say just what I mean."
Time had destroyed everything. It twisted and manipulated, forcing the beautiful to fade, fleeting and fleeing. Time slipped through his fingertips, falling just out of his reach. Dancing and spiralling out of control, charging with immeasurable force towards the horizon and into the light…
The room was dark. Pallid figures glided through columns of smoke, purple fumes that rose like rippling velvet. And there, through the fog, the gas and the mist, she stood. Like a concrete angel, innocence, purity, hope clinging to her wraithlike frame for support. Gently she dropped several rose petals into a great cauldron that stood before her, the leaves twirling and falling slowly, filtering through the blankets of air before simmering in the watery abyss. The liquid cast sparks that illuminated her plaintive features, giving her an ethereal radiance. And there was a second when he knew both everything and nothing, for in the soft curve of her neck and the vivaciousness of her eyes resided all that he cherished and dreamed of. Yet there was an immovable barrier between them, a distance that he could not cross. And no matter how much he searched and hoped, wished and cried, he would never be able to reach her, for he was not even worthy enough to bask in her glow, let alone touch her hand.
All was lost. The love that burned in his heart, that oozed through his body and consumed his soul was all in vain. The desperation and the desire and the dreams were simply a matter of course, a simple consequence that was inflicted upon all that seemed to spend time in her presence. And even through the veil of his dreams, through the passion and the pain he knew that she would never love him…
Over the constant drone of chatter he could still hear his own footsteps. They shuddered on the mahogany floor and framed his gentle pace. He tried to focus on them, fazing out all else that was around him, the silks, the sunset, the skirts that trailed along the floor. Yet there was one sound that infected his consciousness, a soft laugh that echoed and glided through the air, lingering like a whisper, an enchanting melody, an angel's song. No matter how hard he fought it, the sound continued, shuddering in his mind, shaking the very core of his being with high speed tempests. For that laugh was a promise, a calling to all who had felt the touch of her hand, the breath that passed from her lips, who had dwelled in the emerald fields of her gaze. And once that had been experienced, he could never think of anything else. He could not take his mind off her.
And so he would dream. He would soar, racing towards the horizon, chasing time and its changeable course. Reaching out towards the sun, till it enveloped him and devoured him. He would run, charging with desperate hope, sprinting past waves that crashed, through green pastures, battling against the wild and unforgettable breeze. He would search for the answer, for the meaning, for the time that slipped through his fingers, for her…
"Lily," she turned, inquisitive and thoughtful. The green eyes widened and the curls rested on her bare shoulders, rippling and dancing like the silk gown that draped against her soft curves. Her lips parted, melting into a crescent that sloped against her precise features. And she was beautiful. She was so beautiful.
"Lily, I just wanted to say, I…"
"What is it?"
"Lily, I…I…" he could feel her fading away, falling out of his reach, slipping through his fingers, drifting nearer and nearer towards the horizon and into the light.
"What do you want to tell me?" Lily, I love you. The seconds were drifting by. I love you. There was nothing he could do. I love you. His dreams, hope, desire, longing were all pointless. I love you. He would always be alone. I love you.
"Nothing… it doesn't matter."
For love is pain. Unrequited adoration continues to swell and to grow, for what is more beautiful than that which cannot be achieved, the glory that is out of reach. Distance enhances dreams and desires, destroying the imperfections that requited love would demonstrate. He would always love her with an unrequited passion, a longing that would never be ceased. And this would swell and burn, like a childhood dream that cannot be forgotten, but is instead made perfect by the fallibility of memory. The mind forgets the turmoil and anguish that longing creates, glossing over the past till it is simply vivid nostalgic perfection. The one single blessing of time.