Author: S. Adila
Editor: Natasha A.
The salty mist in the air moistened his skin. The ocean breeze was supposed to tide down the rising words in his throat. Washing them ashore or pulling them down to the humble lower ground of the sea. How many years have passed? Waiting, thriving, seeking, and repeating all of it only to meet the same starting point and the equally soul-crushing ending. His violet orbs were void like an empty canvas in dull colour. The swirl of red in his orbs was dimmed, like the light in his core, flickering and hanging on the last thread of hope he wished could last another century onwards. Just so he could possibly switch his deepest desire to reality, his star to shine, and his hope to descend to his palm.
“There is a reason why every timeline you live in, none of it had a picture of you and her. It’s like watching a tree in all four seasons. They ended up the same and never stay forever in one condition.”
“But there are still those beautiful moments where you can admire the tree’s beauty in that short period of each season.” He would answer. Unswervingly and without a doubt the confidence was first born in his heart before his breath.
Though he was not exactly naive. He understood the message clearly. Each time he could breathe in her voice, smelling the happiness in her sparkling eyes that seemed to be the pillars of his universe, holding stars like it was meant for her touch. Each time he found himself losing her by one step, one extended hand, one exhale or inhale in the winter night. He tried the exact pattern and when he knew he would fail again, he tried. He was smitten like he just got his heart and it laid bare in front of her presence, letting her grasp it but never stay. Similar to the tree in all four seasons. Blooming and withering away. A changing beauty that one could never possibly stay to see only one season of it regardless of the wailing wishes.
Tiny particles beneath his feet were nothing but a reminder of his failure. He would live another hundred thousand years. Breathing and living with the sole purpose of letting her stay. Mended their hearts together for then their soul would never forget. He was greedy and selfish. He would do it all over again if there were a single line of thread that connected them together forever. He would walk until the very end of the earth to find her as long as his body drew breath.
As his dark eyelashes flutter in remembrance of his patent failure, a flock of white birds gliding in the blue sky. He does not know the bird's name, but seeing them leave the beach easily and migrate to a new world full of uncertainty, his mind wanders again to the words spoken to him that never fails to make his eyebrows furrowed and his heart beat in protest. They said, “Don’t get stuck in the past.” But how could he? How could him when her soul was only lively beating and breathing within his memories and past? Lingering like a faint perfume people caught once in a while? It was like asking him to forget about the moon he saw last night when the moon will always be there in the dark sky no matter if he ever raises his chin up or not.
It’s illogical. Purely ignorance. He loves her like he doesn’t know how to love. Accepting her like she was the only right thing ever grace his entire being. Looking at her with an awfully tender gaze that his violet orbs melt in every spectrum of colours. His soul yearns for her but she was never born with the same string, with the same pieces, and with the same wish. In the midst of serenity, he finally tied the knot with a small bow of lingering hope. He hopes if he ever exists somewhere far from his comprehension, he wants his soul to be interwoven with her in an intricate knot.
Though now, with his fingers comforted by the calm tide, chilling his skin and bones, shaking his heart in an honest whisper, he relents:
Maybe you’re just meant to be the star I stare at at night, out of my reach.
Maybe you’re just meant to be a diamond in a box made of glass, admired, untouched.
Maybe you’re just meant to be someone within the pages, read but never real.
Maybe you’re just meant to be known but never learned.
Illustrator: Kou
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