It pains me to see you like this. I have to wade through garbage to make my way over to you-nearly tripping over empty bottles of alcohol as I crouch down beside you on the floor. You're half conscious, muttering angrily to yourself and clutching a half empty bottle of rum. I slowly unwrap your fingers from around the bottle and set it out of your reach, finally getting a good look at you for the first time in a long time.

You're broken. The creamy skin I had once associated with you had gone paper white, and dark bags resided under your once vibrant green eyes which were now so dulled that they appeared grey. Your hair is overgrown and falling into your face-it seems you had been neglecting it for quite some time. The look on your face is one of pure pain; a man who was once so mighty who fell from grace. How did you become so broken?

I know how. I know exactly how. I helped do this to you, but I had never expected you to react this way. I was the one who aided in the war, encouraging your former colony to break free from your grasp. I fought beside him, but the only reason I did it was for you. Everything I had ever done was for you. The relationship you had with him was unhealthy, your grip on him was too mighty, and he was miserable. He would have grown up to hate you, as he says he does now (I know he's lying). You say that you can't stand the sight of him anymore, but I know that isn't true. You change when you're around him-your heart beats for the first time in months, and you smile. Your cheeks color, and you get that distant look in your eyes as if you're daydreaming about being closer to him. Touching him. Kissing him.

I lean forward and our lips meet. My hands find the sides of your face-when did you become so skeletal?-and I hold you while I deepen the kiss. I want you. I've always wanted you. My heart beats for you, but you can't see it. Even when we're making love, I know you can't see all of the passion I put into it. The way I touch you, the way I smile at you, the way I hold you, it's all because I love you.

I've had many others before you, and our relationship had always been a complicated one. We were once brothers, we were once friends, we were once enemies (are we still?). I never know what we are anymore. All I know is that you need me now more than you ever did. You beg for me to make love to you; wrapping your arms around my neck and pulling me down onto bed with you. I oblige-after all, how could I say no to a person in need?-but I know that I am not the one you wish to have inside of you. I'm just a substitute, but I'm the only one you can run to right now. I will always be there for you, for all I want is your happiness.

You cry sometimes, though not out of physical pain. I would never hurt you, no. Those tears are emotional, and I always make sure to kiss them away. You turn your head away from me, pretending that the blond haired, blue eyed man above you is really the man you want. You change me in your mind, until I resemble him. You see his face smiling back at you instead of my own worried frown as I thrust into you. Sometimes, you even go as far as crying out his name when you climax. But I don't mind. I never mind. Because I love you.

I know that what I'm doing is wrong. I shouldn't have crossed the line from friend to lover, but I am a man with needs. Seeing you hurt like that was far too much for me to handle. I had tried to stop it the first time it had happened. You had thrown yourself at me and pressed your lips to mine, pushing your tongue through my mouth and tangling your fingers in my hair. You tasted of alcohol, and you were more than a little drunk. I should know. After all, I was the one who carried you home that night after you had been kicked out of the pub. I knew you weren't in your right mind, but I couldn't stop you. You were kissing me, fulfilling one of my deepest fantasies.

Before I knew it, our clothes were off and you were on your back, staring up at me with needy eyes. I should have stopped there. I shouldn't have gone any further. But I did. I'll admit, I am a weak man when it comes to the ones I love. I granted your wish and much more that night. Then, I would come back and check on you every chance I got, and it would happen all over again. I think you were simply looking for someone to connect with on a deeper level than just friendship. You wanted to be the most important person in someone's life, but I could never tell you of my true feelings for you because you loved him. I did not want to hear you say the words I wanted to hear and not mean it. That would have broken me.

I suppose we were both broken in a way. Back then it was nothing but heated kisses and rough sex. You didn't look at me and you didn't let me remain in bed with you afterwards. I would try and wrap my arms around you and you would struggle like a wild cat, scratching and biting and trying to break free. I would quickly recoil, put my clothes back on, and leave you there. I never wanted to. I wanted to hold you the whole night through and make everything all better. But I knew that I didn't have that power.

It would be hundreds of years before you would truly smile again. The wars of the world had both torn us apart and brought us all back together again. We fought on the same side; you, him, and myself. For the first time since the war, you had to be in the same room as him, and I couldn't help but notice the way you looked at him. You would use every excuse to belittle him, trying to crush his spirits-like a child with a kindergarten crush. He was oblivious, unable to see through it all. One day he asked me why you hated him so much, and I simply smiled and told him that you didn't. He was confused at this, but I'm glad he eventually came to see the truth.

The walls you had built around yourself slowly began to crumble, and you no longer needed me. I wasn't there at night to make love to you to distract you from the aching of your heart. Slowly, you went back to being the man I used to know so long ago, like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon.

I will admit, I was jealous. You had never smiled at me the way you smiled at him, and he returned those smiles when you weren't looking. I knew what was happening-knew it was only a matter of time before your hearts crossed and you were bound together for the rest of eternity. Yes, I knew the two of you were meant to be together, and there was no way I could stand in the way of that. I wanted you to be happy, and so I stood back.

You went to him, I know you did. Neither of you will admit it, but I know that you share nights together now. I know you are lovers, and I know you are happy. I catch you two conversing in the hallways during breaks at our meetings, I've noticed the looks you give each other across the table. I've even seen the secret hand holding that you do under the table. I don't mind any of it, though it does break my heart.

Yes, I am heartbroken. Yet, at the same time I am happy. I no longer have to look into your eyes and see nothing but pain. I see that spark of life again, and that keeps me going.

I will always love you, I have no doubt about that. Will I ever find someone of my own to love who will love me back? Perhaps. But first, I have to allow my heart some time to heal, for it has grown so used to the thought of you that it knows nothing else. It's like starting life all over again.

But I don't mind.