Night
He always came at night.
It was every sunset of his life that made his heart thump in his chest. It was then when life took over, and nothing else mattered. It had always been this way, it was then, and would be forever.
At least that was what he thought.
The first sunset was beautiful, overwhelming, it bathed everything in him and around him in a golden hue, and then bloodred. It was the first night he met him.
Beauty that equaled the one of the moon, of night. A dark, sinister way of beauty, a light smile.
Ever since then, love had been slowly sneaking into his heart, too young to know the pain of it. Of loving and being loved, by that person.
Years later, passion started to spread throughout his body, just learning the sin of nature, nature like the air, the animals, the trees. A blossoming magnificent tree.
That night, he came to him.
Soft, soft were his steps, soft were his features he forgot afterwards, night after night, soft his light kisses and caresses.
That night he learned the true meaning of longing, because he knew it was no dream, and yet, in some sense of speaking, it was.
He was longing, for the first time in his young life, longing for a dream.
A dream of butterfly kisses, honeysweet words, pleasure so intense it bordered on exquisite pain.
Drunk on the kisses, drunk on he honey he was given, fell in a sort of drunkenness he was not, never, going to sober up from.
And he let himself be pulled down, down into drunkenness, every night..
It was no night when it happened, but everything went dark around him from then on, when drunkenness turned pain, so, so intense pain. Too drunk to feel pain, drunk on pain, on his pain because the pain originates from him, only him.
From then on nothing and no one else had ever been able to make him feel such pain.
The nights had not changed, they are as black as ever, now that the moon and the stars are no longer there.
He still came every night, pleasure and pain mixed up to something unique, something new, something twisted, something wrong.
His elixir of life.
He does not make him forget in the morning anymore, he pretends to forget.
The passionate kisses, the heat the pain.
Every night of his life.
Indeed, the world has become one long night for him consisting of remembrance of previous nights, and the present nights.
Night is his everything.
Then, this last night, passionate and peculiar and beautiful, not beautiful like all the other nights, but especially beautiful, like something special, this night.
This was the last night.
From now on there will be no more nights for him, but no days either.
He will be bringing someone else his or her nights.
And one day, when the time has come, he will leave this world without night and return to the one who gave him all his precious nights.
His Night, his knight.
Subaru closed his eyes.
He always came at night.
It was every sunset of his life that made his heart thump in his chest. It was then when life took over, and nothing else mattered. It had always been this way, it was then, and would be forever.
At least that was what he thought.
The first sunset was beautiful, overwhelming, it bathed everything in him and around him in a golden hue, and then bloodred. It was the first night he met him.
Beauty that equaled the one of the moon, of night. A dark, sinister way of beauty, a light smile.
Ever since then, love had been slowly sneaking into his heart, too young to know the pain of it. Of loving and being loved, by that person.
Years later, passion started to spread throughout his body, just learning the sin of nature, nature like the air, the animals, the trees. A blossoming magnificent tree.
That night, he came to him.
Soft, soft were his steps, soft were his features he forgot afterwards, night after night, soft his light kisses and caresses.
That night he learned the true meaning of longing, because he knew it was no dream, and yet, in some sense of speaking, it was.
He was longing, for the first time in his young life, longing for a dream.
A dream of butterfly kisses, honeysweet words, pleasure so intense it bordered on exquisite pain.
Drunk on the kisses, drunk on he honey he was given, fell in a sort of drunkenness he was not, never, going to sober up from.
And he let himself be pulled down, down into drunkenness, every night..
It was no night when it happened, but everything went dark around him from then on, when drunkenness turned pain, so, so intense pain. Too drunk to feel pain, drunk on pain, on his pain because the pain originates from him, only him.
From then on nothing and no one else had ever been able to make him feel such pain.
The nights had not changed, they are as black as ever, now that the moon and the stars are no longer there.
He still came every night, pleasure and pain mixed up to something unique, something new, something twisted, something wrong.
His elixir of life.
He does not make him forget in the morning anymore, he pretends to forget.
The passionate kisses, the heat the pain.
Every night of his life.
Indeed, the world has become one long night for him consisting of remembrance of previous nights, and the present nights.
Night is his everything.
Then, this last night, passionate and peculiar and beautiful, not beautiful like all the other nights, but especially beautiful, like something special, this night.
This was the last night.
From now on there will be no more nights for him, but no days either.
He will be bringing someone else his or her nights.
And one day, when the time has come, he will leave this world without night and return to the one who gave him all his precious nights.
His Night, his knight.
Subaru closed his eyes.