I am a bird.
With two broken wings. But I can still fly. I just don´t fly where the world feels I should. And yet, I´ve grown to this conclusion. I´ll never let this world and its gruesome teeth impale me. As you may be wondering, where is my world? I´m also a paladin, lost in a galaxy of so many worlds kneaded together. My world isn´t Earth, my home planet. My world has never had a place. I have no desire attached to that rocky planet which I am told is my home. I was never treated like it was my home. Accordingly, the Earth was my battleground. Never my home.
The forest in front of me shimmers. The trees are the healthiest of greens, and the ecosystems within it all were thriving wonderfully. The air smelt so bitterly sweet, and ripe of nectar and soil. But, none of this put me at ease. I freeze. Trying to pretend I don´t feel myself shaking. I have seen this too many times by now.
¨Hey...buddy, what´s wrong?¨
But, it wasn't always that way. Well, I don´t think the Earth ever was my home. I was too young to understand it. But for me, my world was with my parents. Mama and Papa, in our small cabin. Vacant. But, I feel the further away from the world we all were, allowed us to be together. Away from Dad´s Earth world, and Mom´s world in the stars. We were never perfect. But we made it work. as a child with an absent mind. I was never aware of our situation. It was just us three. Three is a perfect number. But here´s the problem, 3 is not an even number.
The trees begin to burn. The once-peaceful ecosystem erupts into madness in front of me. But I´m no hero. I never was. When I saw this for the first time, I still wasn't. I was 5 years old. I was a child. I was supposed to be pampered and hugged till the forest fire stopped. It never did. There was no one there. For me or the forest. So I just watched it. I wasn't ready to be watching the same thing for the next 20 years.
¨C´mon, come back to me. I hate seeing you like this, Keith.¨
If the value of 1 is subtracted by 3, there will always be one left behind, apart from the other 2 values. We were a horrible cliche anyways. Cliches only work for lovers, but never for families. An alien crashes and falls in love with a man. If they had stayed this way, I think it could´ve never been different for the rest of their lives. But no. The alien and man bring a baby boy into this world. As I repeat, ¨Cliches only work for lovers, but never for families.¨
My world is wherever I go. Because I do not have a home yet. No one caregiver has ever stuck around forever. No love has ever stayed. So it has always been Keith, on his feet. But, I am a bird, aren't I? Although my wings are broken. This is a metaphor, of course. I don´t think my wings could ever fit in my paladin armor. My ¨wings¨ are my capability to love. I can fly, but how could I ever possibly fly if I cannot love?
Of course, it´s not that I cannot love. It´s that I don´t know how to communicate that to the living world. Maybe that´s what´s wrong. Maybe that´s what´s wrong with me. After all, a bird cannot fly in a forest that has been burnt down to a crisp. He just has to adapt and learn to live elsewhere.
By now, the forest has been reduced to ash. I don´t want to see this again. I fall to my knees and choke. I can´t do this. Not anymore.
¨KEITH, WAKE UP!¨
I spring up with a loud gasp, trembling. My vision is blurry. My throat is so dry. I keep gasping for air as tears freely paint my face with misery. I´m awake. Finally. It takes only moments for me to fully consume this understanding. I´m in Lance and I´s shared bed. I am on Earth. But it doesn't matter now, does it? I´m still gasping for air, horrified. The image of my mother´s youthful face haunts me. I´ve seen her face once. I looked at my mother's warm face. I remember screaming and panicking silently. And still, I couldn't look away. Something about my mother´s face scared me. The fact that she was dead. Fact that(at the time) I was 16 years of age, and had never seen my mother´s face. Now I´m 20. Still plagued with the same nightmares from my teen years. Those nightmares were from my childhood.
The bed creaks. I muffle a scream with my hands and sob. I can´t do this right now. I can´t fight like this.
A voice beside me whispers a gentle, ¨Baby, take a deep breath.¨
I whip my head around, hand still muffling my mouth, to find my boyfriend looking at me carefully. I stuff another sob down my throat. After all this time, I´m still embarrassed when he sees me like this. Chewed up, sobbing, not being able to find a breath, vulnerable. But, he has made it clear that there is no reason to be embarrassed. As for, his words, he is here to make sure that I know that it is ok to crumble sometimes. He insists I need a break. I don´t think I´ve ever listened.
My vision is a bit blurry still, but I can see his silhouette. ¨It´s a bad one tonight, isn't it?¨ I don´t answer. Instead, all that is heard in the room are my muffled sobs and heavy breathing. I look around the room, trying to make sure I´m still there. In that damn forest. I feel like maybe this is the dream. Or, out of comfort, I´m telling myself this is real. Every bone in me is on fire. my senses are both heightened yet so embarrassingly soggy at the same time. And my lungs burn with perseverance, and yet I am still tired. Mentally tired. Not the other tired, I probably won't sleep after this. Everything is too warm, too rushed. ¨Hey, look at me.¨
Cautiously, stark, dark navy eyes meet his worried, blue ones. I keep up a cold glare, something that has made most crumble. But, I know that Lance can see through my facade. He can see that I´m trying to prove that I still have a fighting will. I want to show him this. But, I know that he knows I can fight. But here´s what sets him apart, he doesn't care about all of that. He cares about making me feel loved, and at home in the strictest, austere situations. He sees me. He´s a boy who can look at a mess like me and not be afraid. When people see me in misery, they'll go in to comfort me, but if I lash out they'll run away. Lance had always understood my frustration. He would sit down next to me, and talk me through it. Whenever my Galra side took over, he´d do the same thing. Instead of trying to help because ¨the real Keith is still down there¨, he had a different approach. He would look me straight in the eyes and fight back when I swung. He made clear that he accepted me this way, and he didn´t want to ¨help me¨. No, he saw his friend, and he wanted to work with me. To look me in the eyes and tell me that this isn't right, that he needs me. As much as I needed him.
He was my anchor when my whole world was astray. And he still is today. I need him right now. A sharp sob rips from my throat and my eyes can´t stand to look at Lance anymore. I can´t glare anymore. Now my eyes are soft, gooey, tear-filled, and a raw red. He puts his hands out in front of me. As we are only inches apart. Him sitting up, on his side of the bed, and I curled in on myself. He wants me to hold his hands. It´s a common practice. He´ll hold my hands and urge me to breathe. He always does this first because after nightmares and/or during panic attacks I don´t always want to be held. The thought of touch would be revolting. Affection was something I only needed during the bad nights. Like tonight.
But, I leave him hanging. I try to bring my hands to his, but I can´t. I´m shivering now, so much that I know it´s noticeable to a degree that Lance looks worried. But, I know he has more than one reason to be worried. I can move my hands. But something in me is telling me that I cannot. that I shouldn't. But those blue eyes stay with me. He can see the obvious panic in mine. He sighs and shifts to where he is facing me. He smiles softly and opens his arms.
But I can´t do this either. This alerts Lance even further. I don´t know why, but my bones are so rigid and I´m shaking so harshly that I don´t feel like I can move. But I want to hold Lance´s hands, and I want a hug. Truthfully, I really do want a hug. That´s how you know it´s bad. I want it bad, I really do. I want to be held tightly. So tight. I want all of this to end. But I can´t move. This is new.
Lance frowns.¨Keith, do you want some water?¨
I sob harder, making a harsh cough rake my throat. I shake my head ´no´. But that´s a lie. I need some water. But I want Lance more right now. And I don´t know how to do that. ¨You sure?¨ I don´t nod this time.
I feel myself shake a bit harder. I don´t know how to do this. I don´t know how to do this. I don´t know how to do this. My chapped lips rub against the skin of my palm, trying to get a word out. But of course, I cannot do that either. I keep trying, and trying. Concerning Lance only further. ¨C-Can...you...can you...¨ I can´t find the words. I look up at Lance, to see him listening intently. ¨Can you...can-can you-¨a sharp cough cuts me off but I keep going.¨-Come. Yes, can...you come?¨
Lance´s eyes somehow soften even further. Still, affection is something that I am still learning to ask for and accept. Especially on nights like these, when I need it. Lance scoots over to wrap his arms around me, both hands gently bracing my back. He brings me close to his chest, holding me. He shushes me and rubs soothing circles into my spine. It´s then that I decide that I´m going to let go. Lance reaches down and gently takes my hands away from my mouth. And I let him. I could´ve removed them myself by now, but I feel more secure. That if I crumble, I won't fall into oblivion, because I have this one holding me down. I let myself freely sob. He takes a look at how horribly my fingers are trembling and frowns. ¨Keith,¨ I look down, ashamed.
I would respond, but I don't feel like talking right now. And I think Lance gets this. But he cups my cheeks, making me look up at him. He whispers a small, ¨, you´ll be okay, babes. We can get through this, okay?¨
I sigh and look into those eyes of his. But there's nothing but a genuine hold within them. My throat squeezes and I cough once more. Lance acts quickly to rub his hands up and down my back. As I stop, I turn my gaze back to his. I let him sweetly move the small hairs flat against my sweaty forehead to the side. He gives me a look that wordlessly reads ¨Let it out, just go¨. I cling to his hand and do just that. Now the room is full of Lance's sweet voice soothing my nerves, lousy gasps for air, and hiccups.