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Dreams
I used to dream. Not anymore. Never again.
At first, it was solely about the moon and stars. Guess it's natural, me being me; the nighttime calls to me, is part of who I am. The others think I stayed up to read, and I did, but most of my time was spent yearning for the stars, and mourning as they blinked out, one by one, with the coming of dawn.
I hated it. Hated how the rising sun obliterated my stars so easily, even though in the back of my mind I knew they were still there, hell, that the sun was a star. I wanted the darkness, the silvery peace that only the moon can bring. Not the harsh, blinding rays that made me blink and hurt so, deep down inside. Until I realized something.
The golden beams that spilled out to puddle on my floor were exactly the same color as his hair.
After that, I couldn't make myself hate the daylight anymore.
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My next dreams weren't about my native element. They were filled with gold instead of silver, bright flashes replacing the softer, muted tones that I used to love. That I did love. And now I was coming to love the gold as well.
I know the guys wondered when I started getting up earlier, not sleeping in until 2; I was getting to enjoy more of that warm gold when I did, and for that, nothing was too much to sacrifice. Not even my own light.
And he was always up with the sun.
The only thing was, I missed my stars when I did so, since I was usually in bed at what the others would actually consider a normal hour and never stayed up any more. I craved both shimmer and sharpness, each light, but beyond that so different. Both were so dear to me, but for one, I forsook the other.
I was perfectly happy with this, for awhile, or so I thought; for that while, I buried the voice inside me that told me the gold was hurtful, that I was a creature of soft grays and silvers, not this bright wrong. I started losing sleep anyhow, even though I no longer stayed at the window to track the m oon with my eyes, instead tossing and turning in my bed. Darkness called to me, soft, gentle fingers of light teasing my senses, even as I tried to ignore them. Like an addict's drug, it tried to entice me back to my old habits, to give up the day and become one with the night again.
I resisted. Even though it tore my soul in two, I did, keeping to the gold that seemed like my only salvation at the time. I'd stay for hours in patches of sunlight, just soaking in the warmth that flowed over my skin like so much sweet honey, trying to forget the part of me inside that was screaming for me to get out, retreat into the shadows to wait for it to go away, to dance with only shadow and sky as my company-audience-participant.
Gradually my health declined. I always had a cold, or the flu, or some other minor illness that kept me laid up for awhile. Nothing really bad, but it sapped at my strength to the point Sai talked me into missing school for awhile and staying at home to rest, I felt so wasted. I couldn't train with the guys anymore, not even having enough energy to draw my practice bow, much less my combat one. And still I didn't realize.
My bed had been moved near the window at my request and I'd spend all day staring up at the clear blue skies, watching sakura blossoms float gently to the ground, much like I used to do before. And I wasted away in the sunlight.
The guys worried about me, I knew. Ryo peeked in every once in awhile, asking how I was doing, and I'd always smile and nod and say great, just fine, and the entire time I was screaming for something, I just didn't know what. Sai was constantly next to my bed, bringing chicken soup or cough syrup and generally being the caring person we all know and love and annoying the hell out of me. He didn't have what I needed to heal my spirit, though he tried, he really did. It just was never enough.
Sage was just Sage, I guess. He'd come check on me occasionally, just not directly. I'd hear him asking one of the guys about me outside in the hall, usually Sai after he left another batch of medicine or OJ. Classic Seiji; don't show emotion or your enemies might attack. I didn't begrudge him; not a lot, anyway. All for him.
I was missing something inside, like a jagged claw had come while I was sleeping one night and eviscerated part of my soul. I'd had tried to replace it, but it wasn't the same, like a hole in your shirt patched with a different color fabric. It just didn't fit.
And then I'd wonder what didn't fit, and what I was trying to patch that hole with.
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I finally realized it one day, after all the others had gone to sleep. I was thin and pale, another fever raging its way through my system, when I had woken in the middle of the night, a moonbeam illuminating my pillow and shining directly into my eyes. Its cool touch seemed to caress my face, laying the heat burning my body up to rest, soothing my inner spirit.
I got up and pulled open the window, not bothering to put on anything, clad only in my boxers, reveling in the sweetness of the night air. And soon even that was not enough. I needed more; the stars sang to me again, after I had ignored their call for so long. They didn't care about that, only that I was there again. As did I.
Without all the weakness from the previous weeks, I placed both hands on the sill and hoisted myself up out the window, swinging up to the roof. Clean, cold silver light refreshed me as I stood gazing up at the night sky, wondering at the vastness of space, the mysteries it held for mortal life. I remember thinking that I'd never seen them shine so brightly before, or wished more dearly to hold the moon, full and heavy, in the palm of my hand and soothe the wounds from a thousand meteorites with a caressing touch.
And with heaven's eyes looking down at me, I danced.
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Burnished gold and bronze, they don't hold the same wonder for me like they used to. Sure, I'll always love him, but as I love all of them. Never anything more than that. I don't know how I was seduced by something so cold while so warm at the same time; seeing things in sharp relief isn't for me. I'll leave the bright, glaring sun to him; after all, it is his element, like the soft tones of the void are mine. So, you see, I don't dream any more. I have no need.
After all, if all you desire is right before your eyes, what is there to dream about?
~owari~