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when (wish) you were here

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when (wish) you were here written Feb 23, 2022 0:20:31 GMT
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i carry your heart with me, i am never without it
anywhere i go, you go, my dear
TAG - anyone who wants to reaaad

NOTES - nyehe for the writing challenge! WINTER (1/4)
There was a blade coming right for him. But he was too slow, and his back was turned, and he watched the impending impact with horror–

–then he woke with a start, tangled in sheets that were far too cold despite the way they clung to his skin. Just a nightmare, but the shock in his system was very real. In a half-awake panic, he sat up, his hands scrambled for the warm body beside him for comfort, to check if he was alright… only to fall flat against the plush mattress. There was no one there. Hadn’t been in a while. At least, not the one he’d always searched for in the midst of his nightmares.

He heaved a long sigh, dropped his head in his hands. A glance at the digital clock told him it was 2 AM, and the night was long, yet still, he couldn’t find it in himself to go back to sleep. He stood and made his way to the kitchen of his penthouse to sullenly make a cup of hot cocoa, his ward against the frigid chill that seemed to settle in his bones.

It never snowed or stormed in Artemis. He wandered over to the glass walls, then gently pushed open the balcony door. A harsh wind whipped at his hair, he could feel how starkly icy the marble was against his bare feet. Should have stung him, but he hardly felt a thing against the worry coiled low in his gut.

Ronan leaned against the railing, staring down wistfully at the city below him. Artemis never seemed to sleep, did it? Especially not during the holidays. Christmas lights bathed the city in a soft glow, and his eyes only lingered for a moment before they were drawn to the lonely planet in the sky.

Steam from his drink wafted into his face, the sweetness of chocolate invading his senses. Most people associated it with warmth. Something soft, gentle. Something - someone - that brought them joy or happiness.

His someone was a person who gave all of that and more. Ronan took a sip and sighed, looking spaceward to send a prayer to their gods and goddesses. Protect him. Keep him safe.

Send him back home to me.
MADE BY MIZO
last edit on Mar 1, 2022 6:28:08 GMT by nol
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when (wish) you were here written Feb 24, 2022 7:25:23 GMT
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i fear no fate, i want no world, you are whatever a moon has always meant
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NOTES - AUTUMN (2/4)
He

was

just

–waiting.

For the music to be sung, for sweet words from a sharp tongue,
for the words unsaid, the text not read.

Where are you?

Do you think of me? Waiting.

I miss you.

For the rain to stop, or the final dance,
Or the leaves to drop, for another chance.

Time seemed to move in reverse.

This month was his birthday. Waiting.

They’d always celebrate together.

For the trees to turn bare, or a win in his books,
Or a smile shared, or a hand he never took.

He’d never been a patient man, at least not upfront. But he knew good things come to those who–

“You’re leaving? For how long?”

His fingers curl, shoulders tense in anger for all of a second–and then the emotion dissipates as fast as it came. He wishes he could hold onto it, that anger, because at least it was easier than whatever it was he was feeling now.

Artemis had been vibrant then, swathed in brilliant golds and crimsons. People were milling about, cold hands cupped over steaming lattes. The sunsets were warm, the crisp air filled with the lingering scent of cinnamon. Every now and then a warm errant breeze would come, the last hurrahs of heat-filled days.

And yet it was all so lackluster in his eyes. What was there to enjoy when all he could think of was how lonely the wind was?

“I just want what’s best for you. I’m happy for you,” he could hear himself saying. “Take whatever time you need for yourself.”

No no no, that’s not what I wanted to say–stay, stay–


–wait.

MADE BY MIZO

last edit on Mar 1, 2022 6:28:49 GMT by nol
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when (wish) you were here written Mar 1, 2022 5:52:31 GMT
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here is the deepest secret nobody knows
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NOTES - SUMMER (3/4)


Another step back. Back and back again, the time rewound until he was just a boy.

“Your highness, you shouldn’t be here,” came the light scolding from his caretaker, but what was a lady to do with an unruly headstrong boy of barely eight when he insisted he trains with the rest of the men?

His father thought it amusing, his tone even held a note of pride when he showed promise. He had been allowed to continue–it was good, his parents thought, for him to interact more with those outside the royal court.

That, and others his age were set to begin their training soon. So he’d been enrolled with the rest of them on top of his private lessons, and the days were long, plagued by unforgiving heat waves.

But it was his favorite, the warmth. He was a sunflower, face turned always toward the light.

Training was always followed by leisure afternoons spent in pools, perfect waters, waves that lulled him into tranquility. At the peak of it all his family would host a grand celebration for him, for the Tamaranean was another year older. Surrounded by love and laughter–and, finally, it all felt complete when some years later someone broad-shouldered and golden-eyed stood by his side.

Life was good. Tamaran thrived. He had everything he could have ever wanted.

“Don’t sleep here,” a voice scolded again, but it was not another dream of a memory long gone. His friend, ushering him into bed. His penthouse was absolutely wrecked after his weekend-long birthday celebration, and he was positive there were still people passed out in varying places but he was not sober enough to care.

There was something in his pocket digging into his leg–he took it out and discovered it was a lighter.

A flick of the wrist and it opened, then he was thumbing the ignition and watching deliriously as the flame jumped to life. The window in his room was cracked open, letting in the warm breeze that danced through the rest of Artemis.

He’d expected that this time around, on the exact mark of one Tamaranean year, he would be back.

But there was already a new day dawning, the celebration was over, and Ronan let his disappointment roll away like the last vestiges of the night.


MADE BY MIZO


last edit on Mar 1, 2022 6:27:42 GMT by nol
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when (wish) you were here written Mar 1, 2022 6:25:24 GMT
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this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
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NOTES - SPRING (4/4)


This was not grief, because he had not experienced it in stages.

He had not cycled through the phases. Just–

denial                              and then                  –acceptance.

Perhaps the worst part about having his heart frozen in his chest was that this time of year, the flowers were in full bloom. There were no bad weather days, no somber rains, or overcast skies to reflect his mood. Even the mists felt playful, barely there. The fresh flora, diffuse light in the mornings that gave way to strong beams. A breath of fresh air, and a gentle breeze that carried butterflies’ wings with soft confidence.

It was a developing photograph, with the colors deepening with the richness of the season. A promise, an invitation – to leave behind colder days in anticipation of warmth. Ronan certainly did not feel that way.

No sweet could wash away that bitterness caused by emotion, but he learned to live with it–and then he learned how to muffle it, to turn that taint into an art form. Music came so easily, sleep did not.

Acceptance, he forced, because there was nothing he could do to change his circumstances.

He was a candle; the wick had just burned and burned until at last the wax was no more, and the flame had gone out. Quiet, uncharacteristic. It was better this way, he thought. Nothing could hurt him anymore.


MADE BY MIZO



last edit on Mar 1, 2022 6:36:43 GMT by nol
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