Yearn

And no matter how far away you are, a thousand miles away, on battle fields, or here, next to me, I still yearn for you, all of you. In this sick twisted way of mine, I yearn for you. Maybe I'm in love? Even when I know love is superfluous, inane, stupid even, in this war, in this world. No, I don't love you, It's not love. But I yearn for you. Maybe I'm a masohist too, but I still yearn for you, I do.

Your touch. When our shoulders brush, or our hands collide, and I can't hide the red on my cheeks from your piercing, sharp eyes. The soft skin of your hands, the warm feeling in my chest, It's all there. And in that moment it is erasing all other things, it's the only fact that matters. You and me, me and you. Once upon a time, Yesterday, Now, Tomorrow, and many years in the future we lack.

Your heat. When we're sitting close, just a few inches away, It's driving me mad. And I can't help but want to feel more of it. 'Cause I'm cold, I'm always cold. Like snow, my heart is ice cold, even when I'm smiling warmly. Like rain, my body is crying, even when I'm laughing happily. And you're the only thing keeping me from breaking in a million pieces of crystal blue ice.

Your scowl. When it's directed towards me, It's melting away all my worries, all my troubles, this whole stupid nonsense we're fighting in. It's more worth than a thousand smiles. Oh, how I envy you, for having the ability to scowl like that, because I can't scowl. This smile of mine, can't be taken off anymore, can't be replaced by a scowl. So I envy you, for having the right, and the courage to scowl fate in the face, when I don't. I envy you because I can't do anything else.

Your words. The harsh meanings of simple words, stabbing bleeding holes in my body, in my veins. They always sound like sweet nothings to me, so hurtful, so fulfilling. And bound with the sound of your voice, they're the small things that make my day, they're the most precious things in my life. And those words, which are always sure to come, are the things keeping me alive, keeping me from drowning in my own despair. That's what I'm fighting for in this war.

I yearn for you so much, your love. You making love to me, the feeling of us together, the messy, blissful, painful sex. And in those moments I know, I just know that It's not sinful, like many people seem to think. It's one of the purest things on earth, and It seems to be another thing I'm fighting for.

And I yearn for you, in all the unromantic ways. Just watching you is enough, drinking in your being, memorizing your small gestures, knowing you. It is fulfilling, giving me a purpose. It's the one thing keeping me sane, and the one thing driving me mad.

I yearn for you because of this war, and I yearn for you because of your peace. I yearn for you because of my loneliness, and because of your company. Because of the pain and the comfort, difficulty and simpleness, love and hate, because of you and me, and me and you. I yearn for you because you're always Yuu, and I'm always me, Allen. I yearn for you because you yearn for me, and because love is the one thing I'm not willing to give. So I just yearn for you, because I'm feeling that yearning is the one right thing to do, and because I'm not strong enough to stop it.

I don't love you, no, It's the one thing I can't give, the one thing I don't have. But I yearn for you so much, and the end results are the same, aren't they? So it's not even important. So I just yearn for you, I do.

But maybe, yearning is the same as loving? The same fulfilling feeling? Maybe yearning doesn't even exist, just love which is not recognised? No, That's stupid, I don't love you, It's can never be love. I just yearn for you, that's all.

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Or maybe not?