Haha, I'm amazed. This chapter was like pulling teeth to get started, but, viola. It's actually kind of happy. Oh, well. it's not my fault.
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When I was younger, about five, we all used to walk in the gardens together, You, he and I. I didn't talk to him then - I hardly spoke, which later grew worse - but I always remembered the quality of his voice. It was smooth, like velvet, and it always made me a little sleepy.
Perhaps 'sleepy' isn't the right word - it made me feel…safe? Comforted? It was a good feeling. In my young, small heart, there wasn't enough room to hold the emotion, so it all overflowed. As I tried to hold it in my hands, I watched it slip through my fingers, like warm, golden honey. It was a good feeling.
I spent a lot of time in my own mind then, trying to make the world a more beautiful place than I was beginning to see. That was weak of me. Before You reprimanded me for it, I decided to stop, and now I need just a little more practice to see what's before me.
I miss the time when my heart could be filled with honey. My own thoughts are distracting me from my book. I was feeling lonely, so I moved from my room out to the gardens. Sitting here, in a place where we used to spend so much time, is nice. The smell reminds me of You.
My ears catch the crunch of feet on the gravel walkway. Someone is coming to disturb me. Just as well, I don't want to continue reading the same sentence a fifth time. I close the book and hold it up to my chest as the steps round a corner and I can see him now.
He is…surprised, to say the least. He recovers before he reaches me, and sits down. All that is missing now is You. We could have our happy walks in the gardens back.
"Are you well?" he asks at length. I close my eyes at the voice. I over romanticized it as a child, and something in my heart tries to scrabble for the honey feeling. It's gone again, soon enough.
"Yes," I sigh. "I've been seeing a lot of the others, lately. I'd forgotten how friendly they are."
I can see him out of the very corner of my eye, and he chuckles softly. It's almost better than his words. "I can imagine. I've heard of your difficulties in school." When I am quiet, shamed, he adds, "You can always come to any of us and find a friend. We understand."
Now I try to think of why he is better than me. He is Your favorite, I know that much. He's always with You. This is the first I've seen him alone. But what sets him apart from the others? Indescribably better than me; I don't know how to become more like him. He is more normal than all of us. Is that it? Do You cling to a whole person, someone not broken?
He says, almost as a hum below hearing, "Do you remember our walks? You were very young."
"I remember." I smiled, truly. Sometimes, I accidentally stumble onto a particularly happy moment. "I remember that He would carry me on his shoulders."
"Yes, he laughed back then. I miss that part of him."
I finally lift my head and turn to him, where he is sitting against my same tree. "Do you mean that he doesn't laugh anymore? I've heard it plenty of times."
He grins without humor. "That isn't real. He's forgotten the difference. Doesn't it sometimes make your spine tickle?"
As he smiles sadly at me, I come to a new revelation. It's not that You want someone whole, because no one whole can smile with such despair in his heart. You've broken him, too, when I wasn't looking.
"He'll remember again, won't he?" I ask quietly. Something about this, the gardens and the company and the thoughts of you, is turning me back into that little girl.
"I hope so. That's all I can do."
I put a hand over my heart, finally realizing what the empty feeling is. All of the honey from his voice is draining out from the hole I put in myself just for that purpose. I wonder if everyone else has one of them, a hole. I wonder if You do. Does he?
"When you have a good feeling," I begin slowly, "does it always drain away?"
"It does." His large hand pushes my hair behind my ear. "But it won't, someday."
"When?"
He honestly laughs, "When you fall in love." He tilts his head, having a thought, and continues, "But only when you're with that person. I still have my sadness, after all."
"Are you in love?" If he didn't like me delving into his life, he shouldn't have given me the opportunity.
"Technically," he winced, after a moment. "I'm not going to see her anymore. She deserves better than me."
"No, that's wrong," I pout. "If she's your special person, she wants to be with you, too."
"Well, I have heard that she does, yes," he sighs.
"And you're going to leave her alone? What about her feelings?"
"What could she want in me?" he asks sharply. "I'm no better than most, and no one wants something wrecked." I look down for a moment. "No, I didn't mean that," he waves his hand impatiently.
"Maybe she likes your voice," I say suddenly. "Maybe she thinks that you are patient, or kind to others. Whatever she sees in you, she probably doesn't want to lose it like this." My hands are pulled together as fists in my determination. Why do I care so much?
He looks at me a moment, and then starts giggling. "Yes, yes, my strong cousin. I get the message,"
We are quiet for a short time. Following my own thoughts, I say, "Who does He have?" He doesn't answer, but his face looks grim.
Who do You have to make your happiness stop leaking away?
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I know, gasp, this one wasn't as sad. More...she was trying to comfort him? A sort of juxtaposition? I don't know. She wanted to say and do such things, I have nothing to do with it.
