Unfinished Business

Clytie and Helios (Starrison)

He was a small, delicate flower, that's what his siblings always said. Tiny and helpless and easily overwhelmed, therefore quiet and reserved.

George liked to take long walks through lonely paths, away from everything, safe in nature. Nobody could harm him here, at least that's what he was told.

But then he met him.

The man had eyes clear and bright like the morning sky, gentle smile obscured by light stubble, a silvery streak breaking through his dark hair.

George was fascinated. His heart doing leaps, as their stares crossed and the stranger offered him a gentle smile.

He became his world, and Geo decided he'd do anything for him. Started following him, chasing hopelessly after him.

Richard was his name, and George chanted it quietly until it grew engraved on his mind, on his heart.

He adored him from afar, following his steps and strumming to his beat, lost in an endless, blissful dream he hoped to never awake from.

Despite this constant attention, the object of his affections never quite noticed, never answered back.

Perhaps George was just that plain, or discrete or silent or timid, enough that he never stood out, even after months of chasing.

And so, a fateful day arrived, in which George's dreams crumbled around him as he saw his beloved in another's arms.

For the first time in his life he made a sound, a loud and pained sob that made the Earth tremble and open around him, almost enough to swallow him whole.

Hours later he crawled his way out, exhausted and heartbroken, a withered flower.

His mind was set on Richard's lover, on avenging his fallen dreams, sick posessiveness settling on him.

So he found her, and he kissed her, desperate for a taste of what he could never have, his nails digging on her skin until they drew blood.

It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, but he couldn't go any further, because Richard pulled him off of her and left him a broken mess.

Only once they'd left, once George was completely sure he was alone, did he allow himself to cry.

And the Earth opened again, this time claiming him for good, an ending he openly embraced. Too much pain to remain in the surface, too much danger for a fragile soul like his.

The soil above him gave birth to new flowers, crowns of golden petals following the light as hopelessly as he once followed his love, bound forever to the ground.

And in a way, through them, George lived, and loved, and cried.