I can't stop thinking about him. I can't stop filling my journal with sketches of him. I can't stop thinking of the times when his blades crossed my arrows. I can't stop shuddering at the thought of his body pressed against mine, with only cold metal between us. He is supposed to be my enemy, but my heart is turning against me as well, siding with him. I had the chance to kill him, I did not. He had many chances to end me, he did not. What does all of this mean?
He is my enemy. Yet when I see the bitterness in his eyes, I want to hold him close and let him know I'm there. Maybe that's why he's so bitter. The man he looked up to disappeared, the woman he loved left him for another man, and he killed his own best friend with his own hands. Maybe that's he can't kill me. Because he can't afford to lose another constant in his life.
Maybe that's why I want to grab his face and make him look me in the eyes instead of hiding behind his hood and tell him that I'll always be here.