meadowlands vibrant with flowers

If anyone asked me what the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes upon was, I would undoubtedly answer the child in the meadow. Nothing had ever shined as brightly for me as he did that day, not a thing could compare to his carefree beauty as he twirled and danced, gangly limbs extended in mid air-a testimony of his still developing youth-, his red robe fluttering along with the movement, the breeze blowing lion hearts around his shimmering frame.

The sun reflected glimmers on both his hair and his pearly white smile. I remember I stood there, not quite hidden in the shadows but still far enough for him to not notice my enchanted presence, gawking silently at such harmless display of happiness; it was beautiful, the entirety of it, the sheer innocence and naivety the boy showed, all of them qualities the world and the people in it had ceased to express long ago, hardened by cruel circumstances and the primal fear of revealing vulnerability to possible threats (the entire world is a threat) which is a fear that also continues to pursue me even now. But in that moment, as I watched the boy laugh so freely, the fear was gone.

In his actions, in the way he moved, there was no such fear-the inherent fear that came to plague the world, or at least, the world I knew-, in its place there was only… light. Calm, relaxing light. He was beautiful.

I was afraid to approach him, suddenly fearing that if I dared touch him with these tainted hands of mine I would surely tarnish his pureness. There was a time where I would have scoffed at these self deprecating thoughts but if there is something I have learned throughout the years, is that people are victims to constant change and I am no exception to this universal rule. What once I had deemed to be the mindless, envious and ignorant ramblings of those scared of the unknown (whom have now multiplied increasingly) are currently arguments even I cannot fully deny or claim to not understand.

Little did I know then, as I needlessly fought with my inner need to get close to this little source of light, was that I did not need to fret for it was the child who came to me, at last, out of his own volition. His eyes found me somehow, pinning me with his wide eyed stare, his bony legs stopped spinning and so did the rest of his small body. A lion heart fell on top of his head and our staring match was cut short for a second as I witnessed him furrow his brow before shaking his head rapidly to get rid of it and I was strongly reminded of a certain bird who did the exact same action when it wanted to clean its feathers. Beautiful, I thought, beautiful, beautiful, so beautiful and how had I never seen something, someone like him before in my entire life?

And I was not proud of myself as the little creature skipped towards me and I felt my heartbeat spike to ridiculous levels, clammy palms and goose bumps typical of my eight year old self included. Faster than what I was able to process, he was there, within touching range. I could touch him if I stretched my arm slightly, feel the silky fabric of his clothing beneath my trembling pads. He was barely half my height. Frail, tiny boy looking up at me with bright irises that made me dazed in the best way imaginable.

I was a goner from the very beginning.

"Hello," he said shyly, clasping his palms together and. Oh. There was a sunflower tucked behind his flushed ear. I had not seen it at first. I itched with want to grab the flower.

"Hello," I answered automatically, tone low because I was afraid of scaring him away.

"Are you lost? Or maybe you're new here-"

His voice. His voice was the sweetest tune, the most beautiful sound I had ever been graced with. Beautiful in every sense was the boy in the meadow, the start and the end of all things. With him, everything was set in motion, with him, everything was set to conclusion.

My downfall: his toothy smile as his shyness made way for his inner light, "Wait, you're the one her Holiness Nyra said would come today, right? To help with the sick?"

I couldn't help but smile back. That was certainly one way to put it. My skin still crawled and my insides still simmered with the heaviness "helping" others provided me each time. It didn't use to be like this, when I was younger the effort was nowhere near as taxing as it is now, I didn't always have to close my eyes and focus on anything tangible to keep me grounded in the present, to keep me from drifting to much darker and unpleasant areas…

All I could do was nod, I didn't have any words for him and my mind was oddly scattered, rendering me unable of forming coherent sentences at the moment.

Then, to my utter bafflement, the boy's eyes welled up fast with unshed tears and grabbed both of my hands in his much smaller ones. His skin was rough and not smooth as I expected it would be, probably due to living in the wild and having to perform tons of manual work.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!" he cried, managing to look fetching while wearing grief on his face. "You saved many of our people! And my- my friend…! He was changing, he was… he was fading away… I didn't know if he would make it… I wanted to tell him so many things and I thought that I'd never….But he's safe now, he's safe and normal... And thank you!"

I blinked and nodded once more but this time it was because I was actually moved by his words. Rare had become the occasions in which people thanked me and to hear this open and real expression of gratitude was refreshing and heartwarming different. I sensed that the emotion in his words was true and right there on the meadow, it was what truly mattered.

I cleared my throat and tried to come up with something to say that would distract him from his crying. "Your friend… Can you describe him to me? I tended to so many people from your village today, I can't remember them all. I'm sorry."

He let go of my hands and I thought it pathetic, how quickly I yearned for his warmth to return. And missed it even more when the child of the meadow began describing in high detail his 'best friend of all times'-a twelve year old boy I recalled cleansing earlier- how he looked, his personality, the things he liked, what he didn't, how long they had known each other, talking on with a blush slowly crawling up to his cheeks.

Ah, it was with a sting I understood just then, as the beautiful boy spoke in his equally beautiful voice, that red was a color that became him.

His heart was not mine to have.

He talked. I listened intently, not wanting to miss any word that fell from his lips. A mess of confusing trains of thought and desires, of impulses and reactions: that was the me in the meadow.

At the end of the day, he gave the sunflower behind his ear.

By the time we finished talking and I decided to go back home (the journey back was awfully long) dusk was already setting in.

On my way past the humble houses I caught the eye of her Holiness Nyra standing somberly by her faithful watcher's side. She was awfully young, barely fifteen, yet her green eyes, they reminded me of her predecessor, the man who died of a mysterious disease the day she was born. They were hard like a blade sharp's end and watered as well, giving the impression that she was always struggling with something; her burden was great after all.

However, the eyes that stared at me that day were not filled with the usual resolve and stillness. They were sad, impossibly so. It was the type of look one would give a suffering animal on the road and wondered whether it would be more humane to end its torment than let it drown in its pain. Her eyes, always seeing, always reaching, always knowing. She knew, I thought. Perhaps she knew what was on my mind, that there was not a thought then that did not revolve around the boy I met on the meadow.

She never stopped looking at me like that after that day. Every time I came back to visit, she looked at me as if she wanted to shed tears for me but found herself incapable of doing so because in some ways even that would be a betrayal of her vow to not reveal the secrets of time bestowed on her.

Perhaps she already knew what would become of me as a result of our disastrous meeting and what would happen not too long after.

No.

There is no universe where she didn't know about this wretched fate. Otherwise, why would she give me that disgustingly heartbroken look? As if I was one step away from vanishing before her observing eyes?

I detest her for that. I hate that she watched him grow along with that brainless friend of his, watched him glow and obliterate with his brilliance everyone around him and could not muster one drop of pity to tell him the truth. Tell me the truth.

"Don't you think it would be ridiculously romantic?" he asked in his still melodious voice, five years later from our first encounter, to the annoyance sitting next to him. He was painfully beautiful now, possessed the kind of features that could slice through any barriers, including my own. He had come a long way from the skinny child he was, and I don't think it was physically possible for me to want him anymore than I did.

"Are you insane? What makes you think- You know what? I'd rather not know what possesses you to think that." The other teenager huffed and pulled a bunch of grass from the ground to throw it in my darling's face, who spluttered and smacked him in the head rightfully for dirtying his hair.

"No, you actually do care. So I'm going to tell you. It's just…"

"…It's just?"

"Aha! Knew you were playing hard to get. Anyway, it's just the whole concept of it is pure romance through and through. Like… Like the Originals! Or Lady Nyra and Xander! They bowed to stay forever by each other's side and he is like her knight in shining armor in a strange way. He will forever protect her and remain with her and-"

"….I don't know. Maybe if the circumstances were different... But yes, they do love each other. I'm not blind. But Lady Nyra… she always looks sad and because she is sad Xander is too. It's like there's a constant dark cloud over their heads that just won't leave them alone. Being able to do what she does- I find it hard to believe they would be totally and blissfully happy as you claim so passionately."

"Ah. Excuses, excuses. You're no fun at all"

"Isn't it enough with what we have?"

"It is enough silly. It has always been. I just love riling you up. Hehe. But seriously, don't you want to be my knight in shining armor dear?"

"Technically, I already am. I did promise you to protect you forever, till the day we both die, didn't I? And I do not need to be a Guardian for that, nor you need to be the Seer."

"Let a guy dream! I'm just saying it would be nice if in some other life, or something similar, we had that kind of bond."

"Etro, I beg you Goddess, don't listen to this lunatic's senseless ramblings!"

"No, Goddess, I beg you, heed my plea!"

Laughing, smiling, blushing. Kissing lips underneath a starry sky, hands grabbing and pulling at each other's clothes. Frantic murmurs of promised love and endearments. The growing chasm of my acid bitterness swallowing me up as I looked upon what shall never be mine being loved and adored the way I burned to do.

If anyone asked me what was the most horrible thing I had ever laid eyes on, I would undoubtedly answer the sight of red on him that cursed day. That wrong shade, that wrong smell, how terrible it looked in contrast to his pale skin and clothes. Once I said the color red was becoming on him. I was wrong.

I held him in my arms, his cold, unmoving, devoid of light body, so heavy in my arms, and his head, freezing, cold, cradled against my chest. I remembered him laughing. I remembered him twirling and dancing on the meadow of lion hearts, lion hearts white and pure like the dancing boy. I remembered his blushing cheeks, his shy smiles, his loud laugh, his vibrant personality. How his mere presence gave life to an entirely ordinary village. His hand on mine as he gifted me the sunflower behind his ear, the sunflower that couldn't rival with the boy's beauty. I remembered him as the only real thing in my life, the only thing that mattered. The only thing I ever truly desired. His kind and real words, he never lied to me, never betrayed me, never approached me with ulterior motives or ill intentions. He was real. Everything he did and said was painfully real.

Gone.

Gone.

His skin was white and pasty as wax, the skin I held in my arms, the skin I had the opportunity to touch before it lost its essence. The sole color on him was the still fresh stain of red on his white shirt. The red covering my hands, covering his innocence. His eyes would not open anymore, not for me, not for anyone. His mouth would never speak again and his arms would never hug me again and his legs would never take him places any longer and-

Why were there droplets on his grey cheeks? Why was my vision blurry?

Nineteen years old.

Nineteen years old.

Lady Nyra looked at me from the sidelines, silent tears descending down her solemn visage. I hated her, but it wasn't her who possessed the entire focus of my hatred, not that day, not in that moment, she wasn't the one I detested the most. It was the useless crying man child not too far away from where I kneeled holding his body close to me (afraid of letting go). It was the boy I saved seven years ago (he wasn't worth it), the child who owned his heart then and refused to free it from his selfish grasp, the boy who promised him he would defend him, the boy who ultimately failed to full fill a promise and I absolutely despised him for what he did.

His fault.

His fault.

If he didn't exist, the boy in the meadow would have-

Would have-

He took him from me, because of him my light died away.

Because of him he died away.

I would kill him the first chance I received. I would gut him like an animal and enjoy every second of it.

The boy in the meadow with the beautiful smile was the first thing to go, the first important thing I lost and it wouldn't be too long before I lost the rest.

A/N: Title of the chapter taken from the song Ashes of Dreams (English version) from the ost of my favorite videogame NIER. Please everyone check it out!