there never was a boy

there never was

a

boy

it was all a dream

shadows and memories

dripping in and out through the crevices of my brain

but my very being

my every part knew him

he had the bluest eyes

I used to stay up all night afraid and lonely. The empty dark rising above all known understanding in my life, rising, rising, above me, swallowing me. This absence of colour drowning me within its empty being, and nothing comes out of it, and it gets so damn cold, and the fear is all I know.

Then he came.

He has the bluest eyes, this boy of my dreams. He was the first night that I slept, the first night where the fear washed away into the distance of a blocked out memory. To the justification of his eyes, I called him blue boy, and he never bothered to correct me. He had tousled brown hair, delicate lips so fitting of his gentle features, blue as you recall. Pure azure orbs the reflection of Prussian fabric, breaking in shards so piercing, this dark, mysterious and blue figure. His eyes would water and shimmer when he was sad, and he was often sad.

His body was angular and athletic, the kind that remained young forever. I didn't know what to call him but the Blue Boy, his whole presence was like a clear night, not this city black that conceals everything sane. In my eyes, there was nothing fitting of this boy, so he remained Blue Boy forever, and he never corrected me.

We shared a cold distance for people, this frozen ice to emotions. It is strange that I ended up loving him despite my belief that I would never be able to love anything or anyone. He gave me power and I owned him. He was this little secret forever silent and the knowledge that he belonged to no one else but me gave me a rush like that never felt before by any one man. It is this passion that burns like fire, and it comes to me every night at midnight precise, through the bedroom window. We talked silent words with our eyes, his beautiful blue eyes of the pure sky. He was the blue of grief that shadows the fear, for that I allowed him a peek of my darkest most intimate thoughts and by the trust I handed over to him, he touched me so tastefully I suspected he'd had practice.

He is the most serene and calm essence in this world, through the moonlight of my window his face looks delicately and sensually at me, sparkling and filled with mystique. The child of the constant moon.

He asks me what I'm thinking and in this moment I tell the truth, "You," I whisper and I enjoy the rare pleasure of watching him smile. It is perhaps a little too slight to even be considered a smile by some, this faraway look of some deep emotional pain.

The digital clock's red lights shift to say 3:00 and he slips out of bed and into his clothes.

"Good morning Duo," his voice is that of slight amusement and a scent of longing.

"Good morning boy," I wait as he leans in to kiss me goodbye as he always does, and I close my eyes in anticipation like I am supposed to. His breath is in my ear, cool and sweet, and I wait for the electricity that will shock us into parting.

"My name is Helios," the words are so soft I barely make them out, I wait patiently in the moment for my kiss. When I open my eyes, he is gone and the morning has come once again.

***

I told him my name is Helios, which is a partial lie though I feel no guilt because of it. In a way I believe all things in life are partial deceptions, just take, for example, my existence to him. It is true that I was named after the Sun God at birth and my sister Selena of the Moon but things change. The last six years have made me less and less Helios and more and more Heero Yuy but to tell him that would destroy my image for him.

Helios has been dead for 12 years, and I have no intention of reviving any mentioning of him, but Duo has every right to know the impartial truth of my life, though anything I tell him can be twisted into a lie I feel he is deserving of this. He is the boy that has brought out the soul in me, Helios in flesh. Duo can make me feel love in the complete whole and everything else slips away out of destruction, and I do not fear the things he makes me feel. I turn to his emotion, and it lifts me up above my barriers of day.

This boy is different during the day, he is sweet and energetic, perhaps his two personalities mould into one at some sliver of a point, but it slips away through the cracks unnoticed. Two partial people perhaps, just like me. In day he can actually smile, a complete and fulfilling gesture speaking volumes of life and youthful mischief, and I love it.

In fact, I love both parts of my angel, and I honestly believe that both of their existences are necessary for his being.