He had always loved him, but only from afar. To Braig Sparrow, Lodru Turner was the only man on earth that could do no wrong. He loved every fiber of his being. His blue eyes shone like the stars, his lips were perfectly shaped, encased in a soft blond goatee, his skin the most precious of ivory, and his hair a yellow sea of silk. He was beautiful. But alas, Lodru did not share the same feelings with Braig.

Braig thought himself to be the ugliest man on earth. He wasn't special in any way, nor was he extremely intelligent about many things. In fact, he thought himself to be rather stupid and plain, and not a very special person in the slightest. But he did have one talent. The sweetest words of love could come nowhere else other than the mouth of Braig Sparrow. The words that uttered from his lips could make any man or woman swoon just from a simple sonnet, yet no one in town thought he was handsome; in fact, most of them despised him and spoke about him behind his back.

'Why am I doomed to look like such a horrid creature?' he thought to himself, 'why was I born blind in one eye… why must my face be riddled with this accursed withered look? Why?!' The raven haired man slammed his hands on his writing desk. He looked out through the sheer curtains that had been drawn earlier that day. Sadly he watched the people that passed by happily with their loved ones. 'Why must I look this way…?'

Braig had the gift of love in his heart, and a passion for poetry, sonnets, and love letters. "Why do the right words always come out of the wrong mouth?" the town's folk would say. The man knew that he wasn't liked by the people, and he knew that he was talked about behind his back. The people whispered to their friends and families, warning them to never go near the man who lived in the old and small cottage close to the back of the town. He might disease them with something.

Sitting down at his desk, he pulled out some parchment paper and a new feathered quill pen. "Why do people judge so harshly because of my face? Am I not entitled to the same things as any other man just because I'm ugly and withered?!" he shouted to no one in particular. Sighing, Sparrow looked down at the paper on the desk. "Let's see here…"

Your eyes are like the ocean, I drown in the deep blue depths. Your love is something that I desire most in life, yet I am not entitled to it, for I am the lowliest—

"No no no! That's no good! Damnit! Why can't I... oh never mind…" The half-blind man picked up the paper and crinkled it up into a wad and tossed it in the waste bin behind him. Not being able to continue and start anew, Braig rose to his feet and grabbed his over coat. Locking the door behind him, the man with the ponytail made his way out into the snowy cobble streets of England. He soon found himself in the pub, in the furthest and darkest corner that could be found.

'Maybe I can try this again...' he thought to himself, as he pulled out a small piece of parchment from his pocket, along with his pen. He began to write again, once he soothed his nerves with a few pints of ale.

Beauty. Beauty is what I see when I look at you. Your eyes are the deepest ocean. I want to explore them from the deepest depths to the very surface. I can't quite help myself but get lost in your stare. Your hair is so golden it's almost as if it were taken right from an angel. A halo lies gently upon the top of your golden locks. I long for the soft, caressing touch of our lips becoming one. They are like the most beautiful rose, hiding safely from the harm that may come.

Love. This is what I am feeling for you, yet I shall never know or have your love in return. Sorrow is all I know now… I know of nothing else. I shall never know what love feels like, for I am nothing to you, and I never will be anything mort. A single kiss is what I long for. I long to know what it feels like to soar with the feeling of happiness, knowing the deep secrets of your heart.

Those are my feelings. That is what I feel, and that is what I want. But alas, I will never feel that from close by… only will I feel it from afar. You are the apple of my eye… ma peche. Never will you sour or ruin, only grow sweeter and more beautiful by the day… but never will it be for me.

Setting the quill down, he looked over his written work. He sighed as he looked over the sweet words again and again. Braig rose to his feet, leaving a single penny on the wooden table beside the many empty pints. He then again set out into the cold wind and snow, leaving his drunken pain inside the pub. On his way back to his cottage, the man passed Lodru's home. Shrugging, the raven haired man dropped the paper under the door, not bothering to seal it. From that point on, he walked home, and didn't look back again.

'It's better if he doesn't know…'