sauzwriting - Tumblr blog

[sauzwriting]

My eyes are fixated on it.

Heart, beating. Beating on your hands. Warm blood sinking inside the creases of skin, painting them dark, painting them red. My heart beats, steadily.

I tore my chest open, just for you. I took out my heart and gave it away, just for you. I didn't mean for it to be yours, not for long, not forever. But somehow you claimed it for yourself.

And yet, as it beats, your eyes don't seem to care for it. You don't seem to hear it sing. You often leave it on the floor, cold, floating on a puddle of blood that keeps on growing. Lonely.

I can't go far from it. As it is me. As I am it.

I sit down and watch. The blood reaches my knees and drenches my legs. There is a huge hole on my chest. I can't hear it sing, I can feel it beat. I hear the blood pumping away without a place to flow to.

But I can only watch.

I wonder when you'll come back to pick it up again.

[sauzwriting]

the legend of the blue girl

Legends. Oh, legends. They tell her tale, yet no one really knows who she is and where she fares from.

Scrolls, filled with words and pictures of her travels. Long stories and happy endings, dreams pouring into her every action. Some still remember her name, others only her skin, a blue sky with white stars sprinkled all over. Some kids speak of wings, breaking open in flight while she laughed, the wind blowing the hair away from her face.

Wherever she went, she left a strange, invisible footprint.

She was like the wind, coming and going, strong and gentle, as well.

But with so many stories, so many memories, no one knows the end to the tale of the blue girl.

Friends and family, left behind in the threads of time, unknowing of where she would end up.

The quill has been dropped to the floor and the scrolls remain untouched, a story with no end. Papers with pictures traced on them float around, torn from their original place, as if they couldn't find their way back. As if they knew she wouldn't come back for them, to claim them and reunite them with new pictures and stories.

A haunting darkness hovers over, hungry and impatient, drowing in a desire to gobble all the stories and sink them down, down, so they will be forever forgotten.

But there is someone who still tries to remember.

He is out there, lost, battling his own head and memories, searching deep, deep within them to find her, to remember her face and her words.

If no one else will remember her, he will. She can't be lost to the unknown darkness. Even if he sinks in it, he will remember her. Fragments. Feelings. Sensations. He won't forget, he can't forget.

[sauzwriting]

family

They say family are those who are the closest to your heart.

But he wondered, then, why he so often hid his heart from the blood that ran through his veins.

If they were so close, maybe that was the reason he needed to safeguard his heart, so it didn't break, so it didn't crack open and bleed all over.

Maybe that was why it didn't beat. His chest was silent and cold.

And yet, he longed for warmth. He longed for a hand to come inbetween his ribs, to pull them apart and take his heart. To make it move, beat, sing.

But how could he? How could he wish for such a thing, when he feared being known, and the feeling of his own blood rushing?

Maybe it didn't have to be family.

Maybe it had to be someone else.

Maybe one day.

But the years came and passed, and, still, there was no song to sing. If there had ever been any hope of feeling anything, anything at all, it was slowly vanishing and turning into dust.

He turned big. Bigger. He grew around his heart, which remained small and hidden. Almost like a treasure lost to oblivion.

He had almost forgotten it was there, too.

And despite it all, one day, someone remembered.

It was a simple thing, really.

When the paper trembled on his fingers, when the letters wobbled under his eyes and the tears stained the dried ink, his chest bloomed and, for the first time in years, there was a heartbeat. Weak and timid, it echoed on the inside of his body, carrying something strange and warm with it.

A name he thought he didn't know. A warmth long lost to a faraway childhood. Hands that had been there, holding him, so delicate, so loving. A whispering voice, calling him. Promises and love, all intertwined together, they had always been there

They say family are those who are the closest to your heart.

And yet, only some choose to protect it.

[sauzwriting]

if you're lost, you can look and you will find me

The echo of a corner that at some point had been part of his life. He could almost hear the hustle of life seeping through. Voices. Laughter.

Now it was all silence.

--

Megumi watches Yuuji go through a breakdown in the ruins of Shibuya. He tries his best to ground him. He tries his best to show how much he loves him. Despite it all.

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Yuuji/Megumi

Tags: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, music, childhood memories

Warnings: self-harm,a bit angsty, manga spoilers of shibuya arc 

ao3 link

There was so, so much silence.

To him, it was deafening, overwhelming. His heart fell everytime he stopped to listen, realizing how it was his fault.

He knew. This silence was his.

Yuuji walked through the streets, deep in thought. The only light reaching his eyes, a pale yellow tint dying the night sky. He didn't know what hour it was. He didn't care.

He just dragged his feet forward.

Ahead of him were the silhouettes of the people who kept saving his life, somehow. He wondered why, once more. He wondered, but never said anything about it. All he could do, all he had left to do was offer up his tainted hands to them, so he could make up for all of it. So he could feel like, maybe, he was allowed to live for a little bit more.

Yuuji could barely look at the debris around them.

It reminded him of all the voices he silenced. Every little piece of the ruins oozed life, memories lost to a power that words couldn't even describe.

But, for once, he stopped on his tracks and dared to raise his gaze and regard the wrecked city before him.

He met cracks, lost shoes and the wind howling at his heart. His breath hitched as he shifted the whole weight of his body, turning around to see, to watch what was left.

A flicker of color hit his eyes, getting his attention.

It was a neon sign of what seemed to be some kind of shop. It was barely hanging from its original place, half of it was completely broken and resting miserably on the ground. But the rest of it was still standing, seemingly fighting to light up the street. Blues and reds flickered, illuminating Yuuji, coloring him, his body, his hair, even his scars. It almost looked like it was alive. The colors, beating, like a human heart.

All it lacked was blood, to pour out of it.

"Hey," he felt something on his shoulder. A touch so soft it was barely noticeable. But still, the fingers lingered. "You're staying behind. Is something the matter?"

Yuuji turned around, slowly. Megumi was looking at him, his uniform stained with dust and ripped in some places. God, he looked so tired. Under the neon flickering lights his features popped up even more and Yuuji could notice dark eyebags painted just below his eyes. How many days has he gone without sleep, he wondered.

"I'm fine." He teared his gaze away from Megumi, back to the sign. "You can go on ahead, I'll catch up in a bit. It's okay." It was strange, hearing his own voice among all the silence. His lips trembled as the words came out of his throat. It felt foreign, like it wasn't his.

"No, it's not." Megumi took a step forward, getting a bit closer to him. Yuuji heard the rubble crumble under his feet. "I'm not doing that." Something inside Yuuji's chest shrunk and shivered. Just a sudden twinge of pain.

There's no way you could leave Sukuna's vessel by himself, he thought, eyes fixated on the ground. He understood, after all.

"I'm not leaving you alone." Megumi hit him lightly on his chest with his fist. "Okkotsu and Choso are strong. They're going to look for a safe place to spend the night. It's not safe to stay here by yourself." Yuuji looked up at him, surprised.

All he saw was a furred brow crowning tired green eyes glaring at him. Somehow, it was the same gaze as always. Slightly annoyed, warm, fond. The same green as always. It hadn't changed.

He was not looking at a murderer or Sukuna.

Yuuji wanted to cry. He didn't deserve that.

"We can catch up later, together." Megumi sighed. "Why did you stay behind?"

Yuuji kept silent for a bit before walking up to the ruins of an entrance right below the neon sign. He bent, moving a boulder that was stuck there, blocking the way.

"Itadori. What are you doing?"

Pieces of rubble fell down to the floor as Yuuji pushed the rock away. His fingers were calloused, blood coming out from irritated, patches of flesh that had been peeled off. It hurt, touching something as rough as stone. But he didn't mind.

"I hadn't realized before, Fushiguro." His voice was raspy and low, inbetween sighs. The knot in his chest made it hard from him to breathe, for the words to come out. "But I know this place."

There were no lights inside. Everything was dark, except for the intermitent colors of the sign, leaking surreal lighting inside the abandoned shop. And yet, Yuuji didn't need to see to remember the shapes of this place. His memories were vivid, painting over the darkness; the echo of a corner that at some point had been part of his life. He could almost hear the hustle of life seeping through. Voices. Laughter.

Now it was all silence.

Yuuji just stood there, while Megumi followed him inside, turning on the flashlight on his phone so he could find out what all this was about. White washed up the darkness and the memories vanished from Yuuji's sight, replaced by the harsh reality.

Here, too, his hands had spoiled it all.

Yuuji wanted to laugh. He wanted that awful sound to tear up his throat, to dismantle and claw at his insides. Sukuna probably found this amusing. In his rampage, in a lost of control, he had even shattered pieces of him.

"I came here once with grandpa. When his — well. When he was...better."

Megumi stayed silent but Yuuji felt his eyes on him. He looked around too, drinking it all in.

"Was this a music shop?" Megumi muttered, walking carefully towards Yuuji. His voice was lower, softer.

There were records, album covers with different colors and styles, CDs scattered all around the floor. Broken, reflecting the light of the flash and creating ripples of rainbows on the ceiling.

"Yeah. He took me here once, years ago. He was really grumpy, he never quite liked the music I listened to." He laughed, bitterly. Still, there was a touch of fondness in his voice. "He came here, with me, and shared his favorite songs with me. He constantly spoke of this place...He didn't even know how to use his phone...so we just...came here, picked up some Cds and..." Yuuji kneeled over the pieces of cds on the floor and tried to gather some up. "I know it's stupid. To feel like this after — well, after I. I — I have no right to feel sad over this. I did this." He breathed in and flinched when he cut his finger with one of the fragments. "It's just shitty. It's so shitty. He's gone now and now I just erased and destroyed part of him."

"It's not your f—"

"It doesn't matter." Yuuji closed his eyes, held the shards tightly, so tight they pierced his skin. He didn't care, he didn't care because he hated his voice, he despised hearing his own shame. He had no right to these feelings. The pain grounded him, because up until now it was all he'd felt since Shibuya. And he'd gotten used to it. And he wanted it to be a comfort, because it was all he felt he deserved. "Do you know— he was actually such a big, damn softie. He loved ballads, god. Do you know Time after Time ? He— I— ," his voice cracked. He cracked. He tried, with trembling, bloodied hands, to cover his face as his breathing became erratic. Tears mixed up with blood, running down bruised skin. He whimpered, trying to keep down his pathetic voice, bit his lip in an useless attempt to stop crying. His whole body, even his soul, felt like it was shaking without control.

"I'm. I'm sorry. I just— there is no way, no way I can say it enough. To anyone." He could hardly speak. It was barely a whimper. "It doesn't matter. Nothing's the same anymore—I'm not the same, I can't go back. It doesn't matter." Silence. "I barely know who I am anymore."

"Yuuji. Fuck."

Megumi said his name. He kneeled right beside him but Yuuji didn't want to look at him. He tried to take his hands away from his face but Yuuji flinched, scared of his touch. Scared of himself.

"Please."

Megumi's voice was so soft, so tender, he just frozed up. He could feel Megumi's breathing brushing his hands. And then, long fingers reached for them, slowly taking them away from his face. The touch was so gentle and careful, it made Yuuji stop trembling altogether. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this.

He'd almost forgot he had yearned for this, for so long.

"Stop hurting yourself."

Yuuji saw his face. Megumi had left his phone on the ground and the light was illuminating him from the back. He looked mad.

But his voice was so kind. His hands were on his, cleaning up the wounds and wrapping some bandages around them. Even after that was done, Megumi didn't let go of his hands. He slowly traced the shape of them with his fingers, caressing them with care. His eyes went up, checking Yuuji's face just for a moment. The tears were still flowing, his gaze still watery.

"Don't you dare apologize." Megumi looked down again, just to carefully touch the scars that ran up his arms. "You're Yuuji." He sighed and breathed in. "And you deserve so much better than this."

He looked up and locked his eyes with Yuuji's.

"I still don't regret saving you. And I won't, ever ." Yuuji's tears stopped falling. "This is our reality. It's unfair. But you're still you. I know that. I didn't doubt it for a second." Megumi reached up to clean the tears off his cheeks. "So for god's sake, let me carry that weight with you."

A knot, deep, deep inside Yuuji's chest untangled.

"But Sukuna—"

"No buts. I trust you." He muttered. He inched a bit closer to him, carefully. "Stop running from me."

Megumi looked away and remained silent. Yuuji couldn't move. He didn't want to, but he felt like he had to. But as soon as he tried to shift away, Megumi pulled him closer and embraced him.

Yuuji knew. Megumi wasn't good with words. That's why he said nothing more. But there was an unspoken feeling in how he could feel the warmth of his body against his. He could hear Megumi's heartbeat ripple through his own chest. It was almost like a song.

Yuuji was tired, too. He had no energy to fight back. And he wanted this.

So he gave up.

They stood like that for a while, in silence. In each others' arms, hearing each others' breathing. Megumi slowly rubbing circles in Yuuji's back and Yuuji holding him tightly, his head in the crook of his neck.

And then, Megumi started humming someting. Low, barely audible.

But it sounded familiar.

Ah, he realized.

Eyes closed, Yuuji hummed back. His voice cracked, it was probably off key. But god, it felt so good. It felt so relieving. That he could still do this, remember this.

This feeling would probably only last for a little longer but it was warm, so, so warm.

And well, knowing his grandpa wasn't the only one liking sappy ballads made his heart flutter. It made his heart feel just a bit like it used to. Just a bit.

Yuuji smiled. It was a weak smile but Megumi could feel it on his shoulder. So he moved, pulled away to look at his face and gently place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, right where an ugly scar had sunk in his flesh.

"Let's go back."

Megumi brushed pink hair away from brown eyes and helped him up.

He didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

That hand in his, that warmth. It seemed to give back a bit of his humanity.

He was Yuuji.

And Megumi loved Yuuji.

[sauzwriting]

It's simple, she thinks.

It feels just like that, as natural as the light coming from the window at dawn, the dust floating above.

It's slow, like a warm heartbeat. It follows the rythm of calm breathing and it feels safe.

“Ah” she realizes.

She watches her smile and suddenly everything makes sense.

No doubts, no uncertainty.

She takes her hand and it all flows like a gentle river.

She goes back to simpler times, a child filled with dreams and stained with mud. A thumb rubs slowly on her hand and the child laughs, dancing under a summer storm, fascinated.

It's ordinary, she thinks.

Just like the smell of summer and the warm night breeze. Like ice-cream and movies, stories and laughter that echo under an unchanging blue sky.

Unchanging. That's how it is. "That's how you are", she ponders.

Like a nostalgic record that reminds you of memories that never happened and yet feel like home.

It feels like home, understanding and welcoming.

Somehow, it feels like a tiny fragment of the world. Just the two of them, just being and knowing. Hearts that beat in sync, talking to each other, weaving stories and feelings.

And it's true, it's the most natural thing in the world. A safe place, where time has stopped and the sea gently rumbles in the background. A small place, where they slowly blink and just exist beside each other, smiles as sincere as the sun, words that come out without fear and share dreams born from childish feelings.

It's simple, she thinks.

She closes her eyes and hums, to remember.

Unchanging.

"I'd like to protect it".

[sauzwriting]

dark before the dawn

Dimitri won't get a break from his nightmares. Fear and guilt haunt him during the night. He hasn't slept in days.

But Dedue is back now. He understands him better than anyone, so he won't let the prince wither in the dark of his mind.

Pairing: Dimitri/Dedue

Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, self-hatred, healing, light angst

Warnings: blue lions spoilers

ao3

In dark halls, cold stone walls had been painted red.

Already used to the darkness, Dimitri's eyes were locked on the person standing next to him. Not too far behind, the metallic echoes of armor reached their ears, screams tearing at angry, desperate throats. He could hear the footsteps approaching them, somehow following the rhythm of his own nervous and rapid heart beating.

Dedue walked towards the sound, firmly holding an axe in his battered hands. Barely holding up— panting heavily, Dimitri slowly turned around, so he could look at his companion, tell him to run away with him. He now was, after all, the only glimmer of hope in his so-called life. Maybe if they escaped together, maybe the voices echoing in his mind would go quiet.

The metallic clashing of weapons hit Dimitri's ears harshly and very closely, sparks flying through the air. Weakly, his thoughts vanished as he slowly blinked, fighting his weary state. He saw Dedue in front of him, repelling swift attacks of many soldiers. Swords flying at him, shining in the dusk, sinking into dark skin. Dedue's blood, running through the blinding silver of imperial blades. It was now his friend's blood the one painting the cold stone walls.

All of his strenght seemed to come back in a sudden rush. The blond prince held his lance, raised it up and ran towards his enemies. He opened his mouth and let out an almost inhuman shriek, filled with anger and pain. Time seemed to slow down around Dimitri as he slashed through the imperials, his lance completely stained red and his thundering voice clawing at the hearts of his enemies, resonating throughout the dungeon halls.

His vision had gone blurry and dizzy, tinted red.

Once he came back to reality, he was breathless, standing over a pile of lifeless bodies, bloodied and indistinguishable. Looking at the floor, he heard footsteps slowly approaching him and sighed. Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, throat hurting. Yet, it was not his own voice the one he heard.

“Your Highness!”

It all happened in barely a second. Dimitri, shaken, looked up to see a trembling soldier swinging his blade at him. The rush was over, however, and his body was back to being weary and tired, heavy on his lance, supporting him where he stood. The prince couldn't find the strenght to move, nor was his body responding.

Blood splashing beneath feet, it was just in an instant that Dedue ran to his aid, fiercely stopping the blow with his own body. In just an instant, blade and axe crossed their paths, finding a way into vulnerable skin, plunging into its warmth, sinking deeply; blood flowing.

The imperial soldier, already badly injured, fell to the floor. But so did Dedue.

Dimitri desperately let go of his lance and ran to Dedue. Staining his cold, trembling hands with warm blood, he held his body in his arms. The sword had cut through his chest.

He had hoped to hear some last words, a whisper: anything, to prove he still breathed. But the hallway fell silent as the warmth of Dedue's body gradually faded.

“It is their fate” A ghost whispered into his ear, cunningly.

Icy cold caressed his cheeks, covered with washed up blood.

“To die for you.”

“For you to avenge us.”

“It is the price you must pay to live.”

Words echoed in his mind and crawled into his heart, nesting into the deepest part of his being.

It had been their home all along, after all.

* * *

Dimitri woke up in a cold sweat, almost breathless.

He blinked, realizing where he was. His body was cold, lying on soft sheets, a familiar bed bathed under the gentle moonlight. Trembling hands reached for his wet cheeks, wiping away tears he didn't know he'd cried.

Despite all these years, despite everything that had happened, this room had remained almost identical. It knew nothing of the passage of time, knew nothing of how twisted the heart of the one who used to live there had finally become.

Breathing in and out, Dimitri closed his eye, trying to calm his heart and himself. Trying to forget the images that invaded his mind, ready to come back unnanounced. He tried to bask in the silence, for once.

He knew, however, it wouldn't work. He disliked being alone. Mostly, because during all these years, he never truly felt like he was alone. Haunted by ghosts, haunted by his guilt. Haunted by death itself. Dimitri could barely remember how standing still, in silence, enjoying solitude, actually felt.

He didn't want to be alone.

But after everything he had done, even all those things he couldn't recall; memories corrupted by blood and empty words of revenge, the prince didn't believe he was worthy of sympathy or affection.

So, unable to escape his own quivering thoughts and unable to lull himself back to sleep, afraid of what his own mind would put him through, Dimitri decided to go alone for a walk at night.

Bare feet gently slipped through the silent floor of the monastery, drifting down ancient stairs. Dimitri went out to the courtyard, fresh air running through his messy hair, rustling through dark leaves, disrupting the placid silence of the night. It was cold outside, but the prince didn't seem to care.

Looking up at the sky, he met the stars once again. Just like his old room, they remained unchanged. The sky remained ethereal and timeless, always looking down on them, witness to so much madness and tragedy. The same sky, the same white clouds he used to watch, calmly dancing on a blue canvas, projecting kind shadows over his face.

They were still here, kinder as ever.

Back in those days, they all looked up to the same sight, completely oblivious of what their future would bring. He wondered, for a moment, if his old classmates still looked up at the old stars and clouds, their eyes glimmering with a different light now. The prince smiled bitterly at the thought.

“Your Highness?”

A deep but gentle voice spoke, startling Dimitri. Turning back to the familiar sound, he met Dedue's worried face. He thought his heart had stopped for a moment, vision blurrying and fading to black, images from his wretched mind creeping into reality. Dedue's voice was soft, caring, genuine. Breathing into the cold of the night, travelling through the chilly air. He was right there, in front of him. Teal eyes and snowy hair, dimly glowing under the moonlight.

And yet, Dimitri could barely believe the man standing before him was not a ghost, joining the others, fated to live inside his shadow.

“It is late and cold,” Dedue looked at the sky while he spoke, words lingering on his mouth as he slowly turned to Dimitri “is everything alright?”

“I—“ The prince stuttered over his own words. “I apologize. Do not worry about me, Dedue. I was—I was just taking a walk, since I couldn't fall asleep.”

Dimitri tried, he tried so hard to keep his voice steady, but words came out weakly and shaky, his lips twitching. “How are you faring, Dedue? It has...” his voice cracked. “War has not been kind to any of us.”

“I could not sleep either. ” Dedue's voice still felt so unreal. “It has...not been easy, Your Highness. I won't lie.”

After Rodrigue's death, Dimitri had crumbled down. Guilt washing over him and stopping him right in his tracks. He didn't take care of his own life over the last five years and now; now, he felt unworthy of holding onto it. The prince had bathed in loneliness for far too long, after so many abandoned him to join the haunting choir in his nightmares.

But Dedue was here now: he'd come back to him, back from the dead. He gazed at what Dimitri had become, and the prince felt ashamed of his own existence, ashamed that such kind eyes looked at him; scrapped, broken, savage. Dimitri could barely look back. He would see the scars he got from protecting him, the scars that stained dark skin, just like blood had stained kind, caring hands.

It was his fault.

“It has been hard watching you,” Dedue gently whispered. “Suffering from a weight that should have never been yours to bear.”

Dimitri frowned in frustration as festered hatred stabbed his heart. He looked down, a dark shadow hovering over a melancholic grin.

“I do not deserve such words, Dedue.”

“I hurt you. I made you fight for me. For a beast like me.” He spit out his words, bitterly.

Dedue's eyes were now on him. But Dimitri couldn't muster the strenght to face him. Not like this.

“I chose to fight,” Dedue's voice was firm, “and I would do it again, if it meant keeping you from harm.”

“I...I am not worth fighting for,” Dimitri could just let out a weak laugh. “I am but a fool who toyed with others' lives. I spoke of revenge but I—I'm the first one that murders the ones I love. Making—Making them fight for me, for my foolish cause, for my recklessness.” The wind shook the leaves over their heads, the prince's disheveled hair flowing in the air. “I am but a monster who takes from others.”

Silence fell between the two as Dimitri slowly started to regret the words that came out of his mouth. He bit his lip and swallowed.

“Dedue, I'm sorr—“

“Dimitri.”

A loud heart beat resonated inside Dimitri's chest and, suddenly, a warm hand softly caressed his cheek.

“Please, look at me.”

Dimitri breathed in and looked back at last, feeling his own eyes growing watery once his quivering gaze met Dedue's tranquil eyes. Swimming deep into pale green, he saw tenderness, care and worry.

How could someone look at him like that? Dimitri felt the urge to look away, knowing there was possibly no way he deserved such treatment, and yet he found himself unable to muster the strenght to look away from such sincere gaze.

“You are nothing of the sort.” Dedue moved his hand away from Dimitri's face, realizing the meaning of his own action and took a deep breath. “I only wish I could have found you sooner. I...” He swallowed. “I wish I could have been there for you. So many moons...spent alone, wondering if you were even alive.” His voice trembled a bit and so did his lips. “You are a kind man, Dimitri. I am sure of that. Your heart has always proven it to me.”

Dedue's voice echoed through Dimitri's head. Right in front of him, facing him, with a gentle face and a warm soul, was the man who had always been by his side. Speaking compassionate words, as he'd always done. Speaking his name, in soft and caring whispers, giving him his humanity back with just mere words. Something he had always wished, something he now dared not to desire.

Dedue's heart had not changed in the past five years. And yet Dimitri was afraid that nothing of this could be real. His eyes, invaded by visions dirty with blood and death, his own pitiful screams, clawing at his mind. Vivid memories of crimson fingers holding cold, dead hands.

Guilt.

“I—“ Dimitri tried to speak but he choked on his own voice, holding back a sob as silent tears rolled down his face, tasting salty on his dry lips. He tried to hide his face behind his hands, cold and calloused. “I abandoned you, Dedue. I—I lived, all these years...thinking you'd died. Knowing it had been my fault.” The prince hid his mouth, biting his lips so he would stop shedding more tears.

He felt pathetic.

“Every single night, I—I saw you die in my dreams. It had turned into a memory. So now...those words, your voice, your eyes, how you speak of me; it looks closer to a dream than what I had grown used to. It...feels so feeble,” his voice was now turning into a weak whisper, his vision going blurry, his head dizzy, “I want these nightmares to end. I want you to be here. Please, tell me you are real. Please, tell me I didn't kill you. Please...I—I can't lose anyone again. I can't lose you.”

Shame bubbled up on the prince's heart as his mind started to give in to the effects of many sleepless nights and a wounded body. His voice died down on his lips and his legs went weak, the world seemed to go black as it started spinning around him. Dimitri blinked repeteadly, trying to keep his balance, seeing his warm breath floating through the air.

The headache that had been pursuing him for weeks grew unbearable, every single noise of the apparent silent night thundering into his ears, echoing in his skull. Even his own voice, a miserable sound, echoed along the rest of them.

Suddenly, two strong hands were holding him, keeping him up, despite all the trembling.

“Your Highness...you're shivering.” Suddenly, one of those hands gently touched his cheek, caressing his face carefully, reaching his forehead. “You're burning...”

“Your Highness?”

All weight left the prince's body and, finally, the silence washed away all the turmoil rampaging in his head.

“...Dimitri?”

***

His eye hurt when he tried to open it.

Still feeling a heavy weight on his chest and head, ghostly tears covering his pale skin, Dimitri finally woke up.

As he weakly gazed to the ceiling, he realized he was back into his quarters. A sharp pain struck his head when he tried to sit up in the darkness of the room, bleak silence visting him, just like every other night.

This time, however, he wasn't alone.

“How are you feeling?” A voice broke through the suffocating air that clouded the prince's mind.

Faint light, intruding the room from the window, fell on Dedue, softening his figure and face. Resting by his bed, he was sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, wearing a serene expression on his face, one that seemed to soothe the prince's heart, if only for a little while. The sight almost seemed ethereal and so, Dimitri wondered if maybe he was dreaming again.

But it had been ages since he'd had a pleasant night.

“You fainted. I was worried so I took you to your room. Please, you need to rest,” his tone turned kind, “I will stay here if you need it.”

Dimitri vaguely remembered being carried to his room, being held, embraced in his arms while sinking into a weary sleep. His face softened as he looked at Dedue, his heart warm at the memory.

“Thank you, Dedue. I...” He swallowed and looked down. “You have always been there for me. You always take care of me...no matter how small the problem might be.”

“Of course.”

“But...” Dimitri shifted on the bed, so he could face Dedue, his naked feet brushing the cold floor of the room, “you don't have to do it, Dedue. It is not a duty, nor an obligation,” He felt tired, his voice wasn't steady either. It was hard, putting this all into words. He feared the truth behind something he believed to be affection. Something he so desperately wanted.

“You don't owe me anything. It is I the one who is indebted to you. You saved me. You risked your life for mine. And yet, after all that, I threw it into the abyss, wasting it away. It was cruel of me.” Dimitri took a deep breath, his throat dry. He was afraid, that much was true. Still, he knew this had to be done.

“I could not bear it if anything happened to you in...this senseless war. Your life is your own, Dedue. Please do not dedicate it entirely to me. I do not deserve it and...and you are as important as I am. Protect yourself first. Choose a life that will fullfil your heart. You are a person, not my vassal.” Despite the pain he was trying to hide, Dimitri fondly smiled and, after doubting for a moment, he reached for Dedue's hand, warm at the touch, calloused from work and battle. He held it as he spoke. “You are my friend, Dedue. It doesn't matter who I am in this kingdom. You...are very important to me. So...”

“I will not leave.” Dedue had been listening quietly, never letting go of Dimitri's hand. He softly squeezed it, voice hushed into a kind, intimate whisper. Dedue leaned in closer, the faint light of morning bathing in his eyes, clear and wise. Tender words brushing against Dimitri's skin. “I am here with you. Not out of duty. Not out of debt,” a nostalgic smile crossed his face, “at least, not anymore.”

The room fell silent, only their steady breathing flying through the air, heartbeats beating, together, to a similar ryththm.

“I spent a lot of time with my people during these past years. It made me happy. I...learned a lot. But,” Dimitri shivered as Dedue placed a hand on his hair, slowly tucking it behind his ear. There was doubt in the touch, but Dimitri didn't move an inch. “I somehow knew my place was not with them. I wanted to search for you, to find you. I wanted to be by your side and protect you.” He breathed in. “ Not just as a vassal.”

Dimitri closed his eye, heart beating loudly in his chest, wondering if it was okay for him to want this.

“Is it okay?”, he asked. “I want you to be happy. And I...I can't make you happy. I am too broken for that.” Dimitri furrowed his brow, trying to hold back a sob. Dedue sat there for a short while, looking at Dimitri, feeling the hurt, the hatred in his words.

Not daring to open his eye, Dimitri waited. He waited, to wake up, getting back to the reality he deserved, back into a cycle of sleepless nights that would slowly eat up his head. But he remained there, in silence, still feeling the warmth of Dedue's hand over his own.

He heard Dedue move, and then he felt a gentle hand caressing his face. Fingers carefully running through the scar of his right eye, as if the touch could heal the past.

“I am happy.” Dedue suddenly whispered. “To know that you are alive.” The prince opened his eye, locking his gaze with Dedue's. Warmth ran through his body as his heartbeat grew faster, as he started to feel like, maybe, he was alive. “I will fight, so none of us die. So we can live in a world you promised to build, a world where Duscur and Faerghus will be at peace.” He slowly placed his hand on his matted hair, moving some strands away from his face and eye. “I wish to see that new dawn by your side, Dimitri.”

Dedue was now holding both of his hands, with utmost care, just like he'd always tended to the flowers from the greenhouse. Dimitri smiled, his lips trembling and his eyes watery.

There were small, precious things like this that still reminded the prince about a past where, despite the shadows, the skies were clear. Seeing the man he had always cared about, in front of him, he thought that, perhaps, the past hadn't been lost under the debris of the war yet.

[sauzwriting]

lie down

feel the fabric

close my eyes

                     breathe

i feel the air surrounding me

hair on my face

my body is heavy

every strand floats above

i hear the music (echoes)

ethereal

   unchained

       timeless

i feel the music

everything is gone

everything is here

slowing down,

    flowing, breathing, living

[sauzwriting]

the lights flicker

inhaling dust

a sound comes through

i feel it in my bones

       i raise my hands across the lights

veins beating

blood pounding

       carrying all these foreign feelings

                    within me

if only i could stop them from flowing

if only they wouldn’t come out

              i would no longer be an outsider

[sauzwriting]

Vacío...

¿Qué había sido de aquel lugar?

Sus pies se arrastraron por el suelo gris, apartando escombros y levantando polvo a su paso. Deslizó sus manos, oscurecidas por el viaje, por aquellas paredes, viejas y resquebrajadas, cuyas grietas dejaban apenas entrar diminutos y tenues rayos de luz.

La criatura se detuvo frente a una ventana. Con la superficie completamente sucia, los ojos de aquel ser sabían lo que se encontraba tras el cristal: una enorme incertidumbre que dejaría ciego a cualquiera. Un laberinto sin fin, carente de camino.

A pesar de todo, posó sus dedos sobre aquel cristal. Completamente frío al tacto, latió débilmente bajo sus yemas. La criatura sintió cómo un escalofrío la recorría de arriba abajo. Recuerdos y sensaciones, efímeros, y, de alguna manera, tan lejanos y familiares a la vez, inundaron su mente.

El viento se filtró por las grietas. Gélido y decidido, envolvió a aquel ser. La brisa traía voces consigo, que hicieron eco en el vacío de aquel viejo refugio.

Sonidos casi desconocidos para aquella criatura resonaron, gentilmente, por todo el lugar.

Risas, inocentes y sinceras.

Palabras de afecto, tan cálidas como honestas.

Olores que evocaban nostalgia.

Viejos sueños que viajaban con el viento, desvaneciéndose, con el tiempo, en la neblina del olvido.

Aquella brisa, tan extraña, acarició el rostro de la criatura. Sacudió su pelo, sucio y enmarañado. Recorrió su piel, gris y maltrecha, plagada de recuerdos innombrables.

Suavemente, el ser abrió la boca para tomar una bocanada de aire. Después de tanto tiempo vagando, después de tanto tiempo en el olvido, volvió a sentir su propio corazón latir, una vez más. Notó algo cálido rodar por sus mejillas. No recordaba con certeza el significado de aquello.

La criatura alzó la mirada y, al son del débil latir de su corazón, pudo vislumbrar un leve vestigio del pasado de aquel lugar. Cómo solía estar tan lleno de vida, plagado de colores y música, de creaciones vivaces y escrituras sin fin que hablaban de los misterios y aventuras que esperaban ser hallados en el futuro. Voces, alegres y risueñas, que describían tesoros y ambiciones. Voces, cálidas, que hablaban con amabilidad sobre el pasado, guardándolo muy dentro de la memoria.

Las lágrimas no dejaban de caer.

Lentamente, la brisa abandonó a la criatura, disponiéndose a seguir con su viaje.

Y, con un último latir, aquel ser, tan miserable, cayó de rodillas al suelo, recordando todo lo que fue...

y lo que podría haber sido.

[sauzwriting]

“Oye…tengo miedo.”

La oscuridad es algo envolvente, capaz de hacerse con tu cuerpo y mente, antes de que puedas caer en la cuenta de ello. Destruyendo tus recuerdos, ella recorre tus interiores, quebrándolo todo a su paso, como si todos los recuerdos fueran fáciles de romper. Por muy bien enterrados que estén en tu mente, la negrura de su esencia es capaz de hacer que se desvanezcan. Es inútil.

¿Cuánto tiempo llevo ya perdida entre las sombras de este bosque? Una noche densa, sin estrellas, latiendo, que me guíen en mi camino. ¿Dónde está la Luna? No consigo ver su luz plateada. Las copas de los árboles son altas y parece que hasta sus ramas se funden en el cielo, como pequeñas venas recorriéndolo.

Quiero correr. Pero mis pies están plantados en la tierra mojada, haciendo caso omiso a mis deseos. Ni siquiera mi voz sale de mi garganta; no llega a ningún lugar. Dentro de mí, la oscuridad planta su semilla.

“Tengo miedo.”

Una melodía lejana se desliza por el aire.

Es un sonido conocido, y mi corazón reacciona al escucharlo. Es una bella canción, que arrastra consigo una suave brisa que me acaricia las mejillas. Un pequeño eco que resuena y resuena, calmando mi respiración. Por un momento, me olvido de dónde estoy. Con amabilidad, el suave viento melódico me rodea y rompe lo que fuera que impedía a mi cuerpo moverse.

Poco a poco, recupero el control sobre mí misma. Doy un paso hacia delante, escuchando el leve sonido de hojas secas rompiéndose bajo mis pies. ¿De dónde viene esa música? Necesito hallarla, necesito sentirla más cerca de mí.

Con cada paso que doy, los árboles me abren paso. Sus copas se sacuden, dejando caer una lluvia de hojas secas sobre mí. Y el viento, juguetón, me empuja para que siga adelante. Sacude mis cabellos, liberándome de toda presión, y, ascendiendo a las copas de los árboles, la antes marchita naturaleza va recuperando sus colores primaverales, poco a poco. Mis pisadas dejan huella, dejando tras de sí una estela de hojas secas, en tonos otoñales. Tal y como estaban colocadas, parecía que el suelo ardía con semejante escala colorida.

Por mucho que ande, la melodía sigue siendo un simple eco. Lejana, vaya a donde vaya dentro de este bosque sin fin, no encuentro más que árboles y arbustos, nada más. El bosque va recuperando su luz paulatinamente, pero, dentro mí, siento que esta aún no se manifiesta.

“Oye, he estado pensando…”

Sin comerlo ni beberlo, las lágrimas comienzan a caer de mis ojos. En un impulso, caigo de rodillas al suelo, llevándome las manos al rostro. Estas se humedecen, con las gotas que no dejan de fluir.

Un impacto, duro, doloroso.

De golpe, mis recuerdos vuelven a mí. Todo, en mi mente, se reconstruye y vuelve a renacer. Todas mis memorias pasan por delante de mis ojos, a una velocidad de vértigo. Sollozo en silencio, encogiéndome sobre mí misma. Ahora que lo recuerdo todo, sé dónde estoy. Sé por qué estoy aquí. Y sé, sobre todo…

Poso las manos en mi pecho, conteniendo con todas mis fuerzas el llanto.

Sé sobre todo, que el leve eco de esa melodía que busco no se encuentra en ningún pequeño rincón de este bosque.

La noche ha acabado, y la luz del Sol empieza a filtrarse entre las copas de los árboles, iluminando las lluvias de hojas secas que se balancean en el aire. Los destellos hacen que parezca una lluvia de fuego, danzando a mi alrededor y alumbrando todo con su graciosa danza.

He estado pensando…

que ahora que he llegado a este futuro con el que tanto soñaba, tú ya no estarás conmigo.

La melodía proviene de mi pecho, haciendo eco en mí. Poco a poco, va aminorando el ritmo.

He estado pensando durante mucho tiempo.

A mitad del camino, llegué a conocer a aquella soledad de la que tanto hablaba la gente. Ahora que soy conocedora de este nuevo mundo, sé que las noches serán solitarias cuando me abandones. Siento que, a veces, cuando juego contigo, jugamos a ver quién llorará más en nuestra despedida.

Todo el bosque se sacude con la frescura del viento que pasa mientras miro al cielo, ahora, descubierto y más azul que nunca.

Creo que…si tú no estás aquí, he de vivir por mí misma. Y morir de igual manera. ¿Puedo echarte de menos…?

Volveré al mundo donde nadie me reconoce. Donde no conozco ningún rostro, donde la gente que se mueve a mi alrededor no es capaz de ver los mismos colores que yo veo en las cosas. Palabras confusas. Yo nunca he sido parte de ese mundo real.

Y tengo miedo.

Tengo miedo, pero creo…creo que es porque tú vives. Porque tú vives dentro de mí, seré capaz de sonreír. Podré seguir adelante, cada vez que tu eco resuene en mí.

Con los ojos cerrados, siento cómo la esencia de los bosques fluye a través de mí. La nostalgia es un sentimiento que vive y vivirá dentro de mí.

Pero, gracias a ella, podré mantenerte en mi recuerdo.

“Oye, he estado pensando.”

He recordado que somos dos en este mundo.

[sauzwriting]

Y

En este tortuoso camino, siento que mis ojos no ven lo que los de alguien ordinario verían. Alzando los brazos, giro sobre mí mismo, como si intentara danzar junto a las pequeñas luces que revolotean sobre mi cabeza, iluminando tenuemente el camino oscuro, coloreándolo de fantasía; azules y morados que relucen como si estuvieran vivos. Las estrellas salpican el cielo, iluminando su negrura con su latir. Como pájaros volando de manera juguetona, las luces se deslizan por el aire, rodeándome con su estela dorada que, al parecer, sólo yo puedo ver y sentir. Bañado por su calidez de sus destellos, me detengo en medio del camino, poco a poco. Incapaz de seguir adelante, mis pies no se mueven. Se plantan en el suelo, para quedarse allí. Sé que, cuanto más avance, menos curiosidades habrá. El mar morado y cristalino que ahora se extiende frente a mis ojos, dejará de fluir conforme mis pisadas se alejen y se alejen, arrastrando mi cuerpo a través de este lugar, arenoso y lleno de pequeñas piedrecitas.

Arenosa y seca, la tierra del camino engullirá todos mis sueños.

Y una lluvia de estrellas surge. El viento sacude mi cabello, y mi rostro parpadea ante semejante espectáculo. Luces en el cielo, aún más potentes que antes, que viajan hasta ese mar colorido y lo salpican con su calidez, dejando que su brillante esencia se extienda por cada gota de agua. Estrellas que se dejan caer para empezar de cero.

Jugando con mis dedos, bajo la mirada y pienso en lo fantástico que sería poder formar parte de ese viaje a una nueva vida. Nacer y vivir en aquel manto oscuro y nocturno, flotando, para después renacer en esas aguas, habiendo navegado a través de las nubes para llegar hasta allí. O, quizá, podría renacer como la Luna, aunque fuera solo en mis sueños, en mi mundo. Iluminando a los caminantes, y siendo amigo de todos los habitantes del cielo que se muestra en la noche.

Sin duda, todo esto ha conseguido que de la espalda al camino que debía seguir.

Qué más da, pienso, mientras me arrodillo frente a mi realidad, la única a la que me puedo aferrar. Qué más da, si, de todas maneras, no necesito ver a la gente que ignora mi cielo y mar, la que avanza sin cesar en su vida, a través de un camino, en el que tantas veces he tropezado ya. No tengo por qué observar cómo yo me quedo atrás, por habitual que ya sea. No me importa, ni siquiera si tú eres una de esas personas que saben cómo manejar el flujo de su tiempo y de su vida. Sabes cómo navegar a través de ella.

La verdad es que no quiero ver cómo sorteas las piedras del camino, mientras que lo único que yo puedo hacer es observar cómo avanzas y, poco a poco, te desvaneces en la lejanía.

Por eso, esta vez seré yo el que le de la espalda al mundo, ya que nunca he encajado en la realidad de la que todos hablan. Dejaré que mi esencia se hunda en este mar de colores cambiantes, en el que el cielo refleja a sus pequeños gorriones dorados, titilando sin rendirse. No me importa cerrar los ojos, mientras las aguas recorren cada recoveco de mi cuerpo, pálido y plagado de cicatrices.

Ahora, miro el cielo por última vez. Quizá allí sí hay un lugar, un rincón para mí y mis pensamientos, de los que nunca he podido desprenderme.

Sonrío…con las mejillas húmedas.

Llevo ya mucho tiempo sin saber adónde ir.

Y, bueno, nunca se me han dado bien las despedidas. Siempre será así. Pero tú ya lo sabes bien, ¿verdad? Cada uno persigue sus sueños a su manera, y los míos nunca han estado en el mismo mundo en el que tú vives. Van mucho más allá.

Lo supe desde que me quedé ciego, sin poder ver ni abrir las puertas que tú atravesabas.

Y, a pesar de todo lo que ha pasado, sé que te echaré de menos.