Peaceful. All too peaceful.
He's peaceful. He's smiling as well, one of his soft smiles; the ones where his nose crinkles up just a tiny bit and a tiny little crease outlines the left corner of his pink lips. It's one of those smiles that told me, 'It's fine. It's all fine.'
Cold. All too cold.
He's cold. Not cold like those times when we were soaked to the bone after finishing a long case out in the rain, or the cold that he always told me I would 'catch' from standing outside in the snow for an experiment. He's cold like frozen; frozen in time. Frozen like the time I had been buried under shiny metal and gems only for him to awaken me from my deep slumber. Little ice crystals sit on his light eyelashes like the stars he was always so adamant on having me observe. They were the stars, long dead lights that were utterly unimportant. Why should one care for something dead? But, I wish I would have listened to him and enjoyed the small flickers of death upon a black canvas, because look at us; we're living among them now.
Splash.
Sentiment. I'm showing sentiment. That could've been an experiment, the connection between tears and sentiment. However, dragons and high-functioning sociopaths don't feel sentiment. That was lifetimes ago, first known as Smaug; a most specially greedy, strong and wicked worm, then as Sherlock Holmes; the consulting detective. I am Khan now, but that name tastes like sand and blood in my mouth. It rattles my vocal cords like some kind of locked up animal. I have gained a reputation, much like I have in my past lives, but I laugh at their petty attempts to contain and control me. There's only been one who's ever managed to do so, and it's him.
Him.
A man I cannot remember the name of. A man who awoke me after years of cold and heartless sleep. A man who has managed to show me sentiment and make me feel. As a reward for that, he met me once more with a mind like my own which he had always wished to decode. Now, he's a man who is cryogenically frozen in the glass tube before me with a number as an identity.
We have been pushed together for more than two lifetimes by some invisible force. Some would call it fate, but I have never believed in such trivial things. No, it's much more than that. This, this is love.
I love him.
They call me Khan, but that name doesn't feel right. I'd rather be called his. And for the man whose name I can no longer remember, I'll call him mine.
And here's the Spanish translation of 'For He Whose Name I Can No Longer Remember' by the amazing IsabellaGS. Go check it out!
s/9946726/1/Por-%C3%89l-Cuyo-Nombre-Ya-No-Puedo-Recordar