AMEINIAS

A Little Something Extra

Now that the anger is dissipating, we're at the almost-bargaining stage. I'm not sure which part of this process is worse: hating him or missing him. When he shattered my heart, he took a piece with him, so that when I glued the rest back together, he always had a part of me. I thought I would never feel whole again.

I remember one time I was assaulted and the worst part is that the assault wasn't the thing that haunted me immediately, but what Narcissus would think. He hated the idea of me with another man, even though I wasn't his. What I found quite strange is that there was no anger in him towards this man, nor towards me, only words of sympathy that lacked any feeling at all. I hadn't thought much of it then, for all I had been through, but I can't stop psychoanalysing him now.

And I miss him. I spent so many nights staying awake until my eyeballs dried up just because I loved the velvet of his voice, the lightness of his laughter and the sun of his smile. In all seasons except winter, when it was most needed, he would come by and hold me and we would sleep through the morning. We shared many a picnic together and talked about the food, the air, the places we'd been and how they were so different to this. I told him of Sparta, of its outstandingly beautiful prince, Hyacinthus, and of my friend who lived there, a man of long auburn hair, dark eyebrows and an impressive build, Krokus.

But Krokus hated Narcissus, of all I had told him, the many nights I spent crying because he would not "write me back" (send a messenger). I'm sure Krokus tired of consoling me every visit but did not make this known to me. He gave me patience, understanding and the best advice he could. He was a hunter too, but took no delight in catching his prey. A swift and brilliant shot, he was beloved of the Olympian god Hermes and died at his hands in the same way that Hyacinthus would Apollo's. People would lay Krokus' flowers upon my grave, to comfort me even in death.

He would have dragged Narcissus down to Hades with him or else any man who had ever wronged me. Narcissus, who was supposedly closer to me, would not do the same but to those friends of mine he envied. For a while, I had considered that enough and I had considered that love, that he would drag anyone at all down for me, but it would never be me he did it for. Not even he seemed to realise it but he only ever truly thought about himself, to the extent where "helping people" was desperately grabbing the attention of absolutely anyone and that grew into "setting boundaries", meaning being an ass to someone going through it just because they decided it was safe to seek comfort from him. He told them their problems were not his and no, they were not, but be kind.

I grew with Narcissus, not only physically, but in every other way. I matured, where he brought the illusion of maturity upon himself only. I started problem-solving, he started refusing every solution while not offering any of his own. We fought and I being less stubborn would cave in first. I told him I loved him, that I was sorry for upsetting him. I explained that I had overstepped boundaries already set but never intentionally. I need repetition to solidify these rules in my mind. This did not calm him and his anger taught me to be patient but assertive still with others, to not be like him and make the other in the argument poisoned with guilt and anxiety unnecessarily.

I was never perfect in arguments, either. I kept them going, releasing my anger and feeding it rather than trying to calm it. Narcissus knew better when to step away. We were both passive-aggressive, though. We made snide remarks here and there. It was only as we grew older that we tried to understand what the other person was saying. He didn't process it, but he even got details wrong about things I liked that I'd told him about a thousand times over, though I can honestly say I was trying to be better for him, even if I was too late and I slipped up and I failed. I was trying. He stopped trying.

I loved him with my whole heart, once upon a time. I thought the sun shone out of his ass, no matter how many times he had hurt me just because he felt hurt by me for the tiniest of things, which only he saw in me. I would give anything, in some moments, to get the joy of him back, even though I know now that such things are unlikely. It terrifies me knowing that one day, I won't be able to bargain, no matter how desperate I am because he will be gone forever from me. It helps to know that he would not bargain for me. It helps to remind myself of the many ways in which he broke me.

His initial anger of my chosen leave frightened me of this too, but made me remember that he would continue to make me feel this way for even longer than I otherwise would if I had stayed. His anger had driven away my other friends too, when I had introduced them in an attempt to make him more friends and to join my groups together. I thought it would be purely delightful but in getting one to hunt, they relived trauma for him and he threw a tantrum when they refused to go hunting with him again. I was left to repair his damage and he and this friend (whom he had called childish for accepting to begin with when they were aware of how it might end) never spoke to each other again.

He had made a group of his own once. There were many admirers of his in this group and as such, it overwhelmed me and I did not meet with them again. Narcissus became frustrated and asked how I would feel if he left my group, then refused to leave mine to act as "the bigger person". My explanations were just soundless air to him. With a mini Narcissus that he clashed with, his group did not hold together as mine did. Eventually, we were united in our dislike of him too.

Still, I was scared. He'd poisoned Echo. He could poison other friends of mine. I had to tell myself that my friends knew me and had spent enough time with me before not to believe any nasty words he might say about me to them. Speaking of all of this makes me forget why I bargain with myself to talk to him again, to get him back, to take back all that I've done and all that he thought I did. I want not him back but a romanticised version of him I once knew well. He was not himself back then, for he actually cared, but I would rather have him fake now than see his ugly reality. I do not love him because of this. That much is clear. If this truly is him, I never did love him. I only thought I did, but he made me the fool first.