IkBroknard (a.k.a. Broknard)
Some Thoughts in the Night
I thought Matanea might only speak of himself when he said that love hurts more than any other wound. I was unable to understand what Merano'a said, about loving someone and it still hurting, about what it's like wanting to be close but being unable to. It's late at night. They're sleeping. Sometimes I feel like sleep is the only time they look at peace, and sometimes, not even then. And I cannot help with this. I can melt into shadows, I can cleave blocks of wood in two, I can train for an entire day, but these things, I cannot do. And all of them, I wish to do it for. But I cannot. Merano'a and Matanea. These two, I cannot separate them for my thoughts here, so deep runs their bond, and yet, it was clear to me even early on that as deep as their love is, as complicated and tangled it is, too. It doesn't necessarily diminish their love, but - I have many feelings about them, and many that are difficult to process. I cannot forget what either has done. To enemy and friend alike, and to each other - but, they are so, so much older than me. And, while I know what they have done - I couldn't help loving them. It was a slow process, but I was in luck, and had already grown to know what love is to me - or what it was to me, at least. Just as them, my love evolves, adapts, changes. I don't think it lesser for it. And maybe, one day, I may hope to love them and be loved by them in kind. That one day, I will be worthy of them. Both of them have done unspeakable things. I am well aware, at least of a fraction, for I have seen some of them. I have seen some of the horrors wrought by their hands. But Matanea was right, and love isn't always beautiful. In that regard, it's unlike them, for both are very, very beautiful. I see the line of Merano'a in whichever form he takes, the look he regards things and others with - he regards me with - and those arms, and that smile of his. And his voice, his tone of speaking. I used to think differently of it, but I have grown fond of it. And I know good to be in him. I see it in ways he yet tries to hide. He is rough, but I don't think it's all he is. No, I know it's not all he is. And besides, I have grown to love his rough edges, too. On some days even more so than other parts of him. He understands, I feel. And Matanea - oh, especially with him, I often find myself doubtful. He, out of all, makes it the hardest to even begin to guess at his thoughts. I have received training, and someday, I hope I will be allowed inside to a degree that I treat him so he, too, may feel cared for. He makes it hard, but I never was one to shy away from hard work. And even so, I find myself getting deeper and deeper inside. Or maybe I'm just humouring myself, or he is humouring me. But even that, I appreciate. I know I do not yet love him enough to call it so - and I have discovered that I do not love him as such yet. It was a revelation in and of itself that I do not love Merano'a and Ela'Athea in the same way. When I did, it seemed so obvious - how could I ever love two in the same way? It does not work in the same way for friendships, either. But maybe, one day, I hope to grow my love for all, equitable, if different. Ela'Athea Lakeahua. I see those shadows under their eyes, the light hunch after a day of a head raised high, and I hear the tiny, quiet sigh after an endless day. Those fingers, graceful and quick and clever - I know myself to be a strong man by now - or more so at least than before - but they make me feel weak, as does the melody of their voice, the sheen of their soft, luxurious hair. I know no language that could fittingly describe this hair, nor the one it belongs to, but all of it, all of them, makes my heart melt like the snow after a long, endless winter. I have read of others describing their other as their second half. I don't think that's the case for us at all. I like to think it's not the case for Matanea and Merano'a, either, but that is something I have far less insight into. No, with Ela'Athea, calling them my other half would be blasphemy. They are as the wind underneath a bird's wings, as the sun on a tree, as the sea lapping at the land, as the river flowing down a mountain. None of these are one, but they are separate, and still together. And I shall try for my life to one day reach them, reach them fully, and grow fully worthy of them. It is deep in the night, and my eyelids are growing heavy. The glances I steal of their sleeping bodies - they would call me sappy and gross for it, at least Matanea and Merano'a, but to me, the sight of them glimmers more than the stars in the sky, and they are the greatest treasure I have seen in my life, more precious than any hoard, any gem, any gold there could be. And I hope that I can make them happy. I know I can't t0day, or tomorrow, but maybe someday, I will see them happy and exchange a look of tenderness with them. Perhaps I will even be granted a kiss - well, I shouldn't expect too grand a thing. After all, I would need to grow much to be able to even hope to measure up to them in any way. I should sleep. The sun will likely rise again soon. And maybe I'll be graced with dreams of them. I know that tomorrow, I will squint at this and find it wanting, inaccurate, and not in the least fitting anymore. Or maybe I am too tired. But, if nothing else, I shall keep it and smile at the one I was today. And take it as a reminder to go to sleep at a healthy time.