As in. You can't write 20 000 words worth of it. At least I won't be able to. It's already getting repetitive. Hence, the two posts previous will be combined into a prologue.
And before you decide to read Chapter 1, let's just keep in mind that it's going to be quite horrible.
So here you go. My combined prologue.
Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor the storyline.
He guns the engine and opens the throttle, leaving her behind. He can't, won't stop running. Moving is the only place where he can find a semblance of peace. Staying is too hard. Staying means looking at her. Staying means hurting her. He doesn't want to look into her eyes and see her infinite patience and love. Infinite patience and love that he doesn't deserve, that wields the knife of guilt which tears his already broken heart into microscopic shreds. Love that he can neither accept nor reciprocate. Not now. He isn't ready. So he runs.
It's easy to forget, when the winds are rushing by his ear, when he's got the throaty rumble of his motorcycle underneath him. It's easy to forget the things that he's done. Easy to forget the things that he hasn't done. Easy to forget the people he's let down. Either way, what has been done and what hasn't been done are things that he will not forgive himself for. So as he runs, Guilt and Sorrow raise their shroud from him, if only for a while.
Running isn't the only place where he can find solace. She can't stay for long. Neither can he, for she never lets him. She tells him that he shouldn't keep coming back, that it's unhealthy. But for all she says, he knows that she can't stay away either. She needs him, he thinks, just as he needs her. So they sit together in fields of gold, whiling away time in hours of golden sunshine.
She doesn't need to say anything, or do anything, he thinks. She just has to be, for her presence is a balm for his shattered soul. He's been ravaged by war, and the scars aren't quite healing. Everyday he returns here to wait for her. With her comes blessed bliss and pure, unadulterated happiness. She's happy too, when she's with him. When she looks up at him, her eyes radiate joy; her entire body exudes her happiness. He exalts in the life she exhales and drowns in a sea of contentment.
What he can't quite understand is why she always leaves. Even though it hurts her, she still turns away.
"I'm like a drug to you", she tells him. "You're addicted to me. And it's killing you. And it's killing her." She turns away, a shadow falling across her face.
But he doesn't see what's wrong with being addicted to iridescent and innocent light. He doesn't let himself see what's wrong. Even when he knows, deep down, there is truth in her words.
He reaches for her, pleading. He tells her that she is all he needs, all he ever wanted. She raises her eyes to the horizon. The day hesistates between the light and the dark; the sun's dying rays trace the curve of her neck.
"Go back. It isn't right for you to be here with me. Your home is with them. They need you. She needs you." She keeps her back turned.
"You need her." He doesn't need to see her face to know that she's crying.
So she leaves, fading into the breeze, chased by the last of the blood-red shimmers. He remains where he is, breathing in her flowery scent. He'll be back tomorrow, just as he knows that she will.
~
She turns away from him. He thinks she doesn't want to let him see her tears. But she turns for her own sake. She can't bear to leave. Just looking at him makes her yearn to stay. Makes her yearn to comfort him. Makes her yearn that she had been a little more selfish that day. She blames herself for the broken man that sits behind her. But what's done is done.
She tells him what she knows is right. She tells him to go back. She knows he hears with his ears, but deafens his heart.
She has to leave, she knows. The longer she stays, the more he'll hurt when her rationality overpowers her bleeding heart. The longer her best friend will have to lie awake in bed waiting for the sound of Fenrir's engine.
She lets herself go, returning back to the Promised Land.
It's so hard. She knows that she is his Promised Land, and she can't take that promise away from him. He's already lost so much. So has she. In his rare smiles, she finds all that could have been.
They say it's easy to be detached when you're up here. They're definitely wrong. Sharp irony pierces her through. It's weird, she thinks, being able to find the strength of will to lay down her life, but unable to muster the will to simply resist him. Down on the planet, she has leagues and leagues of distance to put between her and him. But from up here, she's but a split second away from him, no matter where he is. She sees his suffering clearly, and she just can't look away.
Everyday, he waits for her. Everyday, she goes to him. When they meet, it's like a joining of souls, a conflagration of love unfulfilled. And when they part, they both hurt a little more. It's a cycle that she is unwilling to, unable to stop. Yet she knows that she must, for his sake, and for the sake of the woman and young boy waiting in Seventh Heaven. The young boy whom she sent to him. The woman who was - is her best friend.
She wonders how is it that they have come to this. How is it that they're just so screwed up. Screwed up together. She, the gentle flower girl, and he, the cold mercenary. How she has to be the one to stand against the darkness that threatens him, just like he defended her a lifetime ago. She cries for him, lets tears trace down her cheeks for the loss of the shrewd, yet innocent infantryman he was; for the loss of her bodyguard and protector. She cries at the bitterness of roles reversed.
She'll be the burning brand in his darkest night. Her heart won't allow her to do anything less. But she knows that he can't go on this way. Neither can those who are waiting for him. She loves them too. But maybe, she just loves him more.
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