song: new light by NIve
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guard·i·an: a defender, protector, or keeper.
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She thought she was standing alone at the edge of the ferry, her hands tightly holding on the railing as she looked down—the dark blue water that held a faded reflection of herself. Her emotions, her feelings, the water couldn't discern; however, the water accurately captured her small figure, wavering as the ferry glided across the water.
"Why is it always me?" She screamed in agony, tilting her head up to the sky. Although she was non-religious, she believed in a higher order, someone above herself. She believed in fate. She believed that in the end, it would work out. She believed that things happened the ways they did for a reason.
But the reason, she couldn't understand. She gave him her all—everything. She poured her love to a man that tore her apart into pieces, strip by strip. He knew her delicacy, her fragility, but as if she was paper, he ripped her apart. In his eyes, she was recyclable; scratch paper he used to prepare for his final art piece.
"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," She felt herself tearing up. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but was there any purpose of it now? Her emotions, she held tightly within herself when she broke up with the man—now, was different. She wanted to pour her emotions out, she wanted to drain the memories of him out of her body. How could she love someone who never loved her?
She didn't know it, but there was a man standing beside her who was staring out in the distance. There wasn't much for him to see given the night sky that was slowly caving in, yet he felt the sky capture his thoughts perfectly. By looking at the stars, he felt valued—protected.
As the woman beside him cursed aloud, he turned his head. He felt one of his eyebrows raise as he debated if and how he should speak to the woman. Looking at her, he recognized her sensitivity. She looked frail and he couldn't determine the best way to approach her. After all, he wasn't a master to life himself. His hesitance, however, became a stare, and one the woman felt.
She turned her head, and the moment their eyes met, her arms wrapped around the man. The tears she wanted to hold in fell out. Her barriers shattered; her shield she walked around with disappeared. She felt weak.
The man was caught off guard, but he didn't pull away; it felt familiar. He understood the position the woman was in and carefully wrapped his hands around her small, fragile figure, for emotional comfort and to prevent her from falling.
His eyes filled with worry and his heart, with empathy, as he remembered his own experience three years ago, standing on the top of a bridge, contemplating his worth. He felt the woman tighten their hug as she cried, "I thought I was stronger than this."
"You are strong," the man whispered.
He felt the woman wipe her tears behind his back. As she slowly pulled away, he gave a comforting smile to her, patting her back softly to calm her.
"I'm sorry." Her despair was evident at this point. She was broken. "Thank you."
"I know we're strangers right now, but if you want to talk about it, we can," He offered. "Sometimes, it is easier to talk to strangers, there's no judgement, no fear; the probability of us seeing each other again is quite minimal."
"You'll probably think it's silly; I broke up with my boyfriend," She slowly spoke, her crying causing hiccups in her speech. "And I thought he was the one, so I gave him everything. I never doubted his loyalty. But, he proved me wrong. Worst of all, I don't know how long it lasted for."
To others, it was just one relationship, but to her, it was real love. And knowing everything wasn't well received and meaningless, she felt destroyed. For years, he was everything she knew, the person she loved, the person she trusted, the person she thought she would spend her life with forever—her other half. And it took one moment for it to all crash down. For one miscalculation on his part, she was no longer oblivious.
Pouring out her emotions, anxieties, and mind, she began going on a tangent. The conversation was no longer about her, but the world itself. Her doubtfulness and distrust of life and love. Is love a game?
In order to receive love, you must give love. But, there's a catch: it may not be returned. Was it a 50/50 probability, a toss of a coin? Or was love rare? After all, diamond rings are the seal of love.
There's no guarantee, it all relies on trust. Minds can't be read. So, how can we protect ourselves from those who don't care about breaking others? A perfect relationship seems so distant, an idea we can only imagine, is it even a game worth playing?
"Love is complex," The man spoke beside her. "No one said it would be easy, but it's something we learn through experience. Some people are lucky and can meet the person they love in one go, but for others, and probably the majority, it's much more challenging. The timing, the personalities, the circumstances at hand—so much comes to play to find a perfect match."
"It's weird talking about this myself, given I've never fallen in love yet, but I guess my perspective lies heavily in the fact that before we can trust others, we must trust ourselves. We must believe in ourselves, carry ourselves, and love ourselves—all independently—before we can give our all to someone else. After all, if we can't give our all to ourselves, how can we do that for another person?"
"If it were to all fall down, at the end of the day, it is just you versus the world. And that is scary, without a doubt. But, one thing that helped me is knowing that the world is on our side. The sun shines for us to be happy during the day, and, at night, the stars cover the night sky to provide us hope—"
"To protect us," She whispered at the same time as the man.
"You've heard of that before?" He asked curiously. "I've never found anything like this online, someone said it to me when I was at my lowest point a few years ago."
His eyes widened as the woman responded. "At the bridge, right? I'm glad you're still here."
The tiny probability that two random strangers would meet again, it proved itself to be possible.
Three years ago, she was his guardian. And today, he was her's. For the future, it would be night sky that protects the both of them—together.
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a/n: i debated on writing an author's note as it feels a bit abrupt. so i'll just leave with this one line: we won't fall, we'll be fine.
