Darkness

Sometimes I'm not sure which way is up. Which way is down, or sideways. Whether I'm flying or falling. It's so wrong. When we're together, nothing touches our bliss. It doesn't matter that we're separated by a chasm that in harsh daylight would be too wide a gulf to traverse. In daylight too many things are proven false; too many illusions are shattered.

Not so in the welcoming, embracing dark. Scars fade, flaws go undetected. The darkness is big enough to swallow my demons and strong enough to destroy them. And in the dark we can pretend that nothing has changed. That we are as innocent as we once were. That the evils of the world have not raped us of our purity.

That our love is enough.

So in the darkness we bask in its light. It's not harsh, or garish like the sun. Or at least not the midday sun that burns. The golden illumination of our love causes us both to glow, our skin luminous and our minds incandescent as they merge together in accordance with our flesh. In darkness, pleasure is no sin.

I'm always gone when he wakes. He's never there when the sun urges me into consciousness. I don't remember what it's like to leave the arms of Morpheus for those of a lover. I miss it. But how can you miss something you don't remember?

Sometimes I think all my rationality is used up during the day. While I try to find reasons why we're fighting. Try to explain how it's necessary to train children to fight. Why teenagers make the best SeeDs. Of course SeeD isn't the point of Balamb Garden. It never was.

The point of Garden is us.

Liberi Fatali.

The Fated Children. My sister, my brothers and myself. Six of us able to save the world. One of us able to destroy it.

How I wish I were that one. To spare him. To take the anguish, the pain, and lift them from his shoulders. It is not a weight that he should have to bear. I see it. Behind the smirk past the arrogance and beyond the pretence: he's cracking.

It won't be long now until he crumbles. Until he burns in the fires of his own glory. And I won't be able to heal him. Not this time. Each time we're together I'm only papering over the cracks. I love him. But it's not enough in the light.

And soon the sun will rise. And it won't set. And we will bother shatter.