But deep down within the cavities of his pained mind, past the chaotic night, was a mirage of constellations.
And then within his brilliant universe I was ensnared,
Helplessly smitten by the man behind the seas of dark matter.
(*Mature chapters are...
In which a secret lover questions if they were meant to be alone...
Warnings: sad-boi hours, break-up, angst
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The rain bashes against the glass in restless tides. The city lights wash in a hazy gloss, a sparkling streaking down the window and muddying the outside world. I pull the blanket higher. I pull it tighter. The lights of my one bedroom apartment flicker, threatening to turn off. I light a match in defiance, transferring the flame to a candle with a pop and a sizzle. Go out, I think to myself. Blow the fuse, I don't really care anymore.
The lights flicker once more.
I try to return to the book in front of me, an anthology of Norse poetry, leather-bound. I get distracted from the printed words to ones written on the title page, script flourishing across the paper — for my dearest.
Dearest. The rain keeps coming, unrelenting. Can you be someone's dearest if they're always out of reach? If they're off somewhere you can never touch? A draft seeps through the blanket and I wish he was holding me, and then I hate that I wish we was here holding me. Because that's not who I am. I'm not that shadow of a person waiting around to be cuddled in the rain or yearning for their lover like air.
And yet, for the love of Odin, I wish he was here.
I think about his voice, how it flourishes in the air like birdsong. I think about his raven locks streaking down the side of his face, contending with his bright, jade eyes. They never get duller. Still they get me every time. How do they get me every time?
An astrophysicist from Seattle. That's who he chose. I was working in the temporary lab where his brother crash-landed, and he chose me to help him break in, to see the hammer. And I agreed. I agreed because...?
Because the truth is that I'm a total, utter sucker for the God of Mischief.
I don't know how I got so wound up, how I got in so deep. But he kept coming around and I liked it. Now I crave it. Now I dream about his figure melting into the room and telling me he'll stay, or he'll take me with him. That's all my dreams ever are now. I'm more in love with the fantasy of him instead of him.
The tears start streaming. They mimic the storm outside and I cover my face with my palms, gasping. Smothering myself. The lights flicker meanwhile just to spite me.
"My dearest, are you aware that you're beautiful even when you're crying?"
I get only one glimpse of him before the lights finally go out, the room dark except for the one, single flame. His honey-voice is still echoing in my ears. I hold up the candle to make sure it's really him.
