Ruin Maketh Me

43 - Light and shadow come hand in hand

Ralphus looks up, eyes gleaming like a child given chocolate, "This feeling, it's jealousy."
His skin brightens like roses in bloom, and he smiles, so softly, so innocently, my heart lurches into motion again. What is this? This excitement for the unknown, it's like I've stepped into unknown territory even though it was only a kiss. The words in my head fall silent, I have no response, no reason. There is only one command: look, behold this beautiful, shining man. Look, make use of this privilege that is only yours.
"So this is jealousy," He mutters under his breath, staring at my face, clenching and unclenching his hand like they are foreign attachments requiring exploration.
I stare at him too. I trace and re-trace the lines of his face, the childlike wonder in his awed mouth, the sparkling anticipation in his eyes, the sudden yet predicted happiness in his nose. How, just how could a man like Ralphus be transformed in such a short space of time? Surely it was not me who did this. Surely it was some transcendent being, some string of fate, something written both within and beyond the stars.
His glowing eyes bend, and a sourness travels up my throat and pricks the corners of my eyes, "I think I've found it." He whispers, eyes never leaving me for an instance, "I think I've found it, mother."
What? What is it that you've found, Ralphus? What thing have you gleaned from your jealousy, so precious and delicate it's like you've never lived up to this point? The bitterness wells at the base of my throat, the stem of my nose, the lines of my eyes. Don't tell me it's love. Don't tell me it's love. But the swelling of my heart tells me something different, and I can't find a reason for it. Something has changed. Something has shifted beyond my control. I can no longer reach into my heart and twist it into the indifferent monster it used to be.
The purple shine of his eyes flow down my face, my neck, my body, to my hands, and the light dims. The uplifted corners of his sensual mouth crashes down, wetness wells in his eyes, and every inch of his usual self control collapses into ruin. A raw sorrow runs jagged through his composure, and what was supreme joy is now a despair, so dark and unending, he seems crushed beneath the weight. A darkness unspools in his gaze, but they flicker away before I can distinguish just what it is. He cannot seem to meet my gaze.
A hole sinks through my heart, and a ferocious ache drills itself into the fibres of my being again and again with every beat. It's almost like what made his heart, broke it. And what made his heart surely cracked mine too. This is why I can't love. This is why his heart is fracturing into a thousand pieces. This is not love. Even if it could've been love, it died when it knew who and where we are. Even if he loves— no, loved me, how can he relinquish himself to me when he belongs to someone else? He can't. My fingers shake in my lap. And even if I become free, and even if, in all its absurdity, I relinquish myself to him, he'll still be trapped in this damned, eternal hell. Can it still be called love if our promise to each other can't be fulfilled?
Ralphus's eyes trembles, and he digs his fingers into the sheets, but they rip to shreds with a shrill tear. Black claws gleam wickedly from his powerful hands, and with a jolt he bolts from the bed, across the room into the bathroom. The terrible, yawning sound of bending metal and shattering glass boom across the space from behind that closed door. Weaved throughout the symphony of breaking is a held back scream of frustration and anger burning stronger than even the flames behind Ralphus's sword. A judder runs up my arm as the frequency of the sound runs straight through my chest. There's nothing I can do to save him now.
     I slip off the bed and stand, staring at the frame of that door devoured by the shadows. Things would've been better if there were no shadows. But if there were no shadows, there wouldn't be any light either. And I'd rather have light than no light. My fingers curl beside me. Wrong. Maybe I should be cruel to be kind. Surely that would save at least me, if not him?
     Bullshit.
     "Ralphus."
     The awful noise cracks to an aching stop.
     "It's ok."
      Silence reigns supreme over the moonlight and our breath.
     "It's ok."
     I should care that I'm saying wrong, irresponsible things.
     "It's... alright."
     I should. But I've always been good at lying to myself.
     Stepping towards the seeping darkness, I close my eyes, "Do you want me to come in?"
     The door squeaks open slowly on its hinges, but the sound of footsteps doesn't stir the air, "I— Ralphus's voice rings hollow and scratched from the depths, "I'll sort it out myself, everything."
     My eyes blink open at the yawning black abyss, and the shiver from my heart travels up my spine. I should've refused him. But what use is it regretting something like this? My own body won't even listen to me. It's just one more thing that makes me powerless. But at least it takes two to dance; if he could truly get out of this hole, he would've done it ages ago. I didn't think he'd be such a good liar.                                      
     "It'd be best if you leave now." He says weakly.
     And so I take a step away, then another, and another across the great expanse. Through the door, down the gloom of the corridors, down the cold stairs, through the narrow side door, I walk further and further away into the rush of cool air with the signature taste of night. Yes, that's the taste, the feeling of flashing signs, empty streets, lonely, flickering lights in to-be-torn-down buildings. How familiar.
     I let my feet wander through the steps of this usual waltz. Let them lead me wherever they will, it'd be best if they could send me away from this motherfucking place, away from this very universe if they could. And so they go, tripping down and down the ghost of trees and phantom grass, and steps worn away from a thousand pairs of feet like mine - lost and disjointed. Down and down this familiarly winding path, never so unwelcome and pleasurable at the same time as this evening. Is it the cut-to-ribbons moonlight? Or maybe it's the silent-as-death branches. Perhaps I just want myself to remember the pain of friendless nights. But no matter, it's down I go, past the weeping willows, past the littered stone, around this corner, there!
     Blue-black hair and the scent of smoke twist together under the crumbling arch.
     They turn towards me, and the chilling red eyes and lopsided smirk of the Fool and Declan kiss me a greeting. My feet stumble to a halt beneath me. What are they doing here, together? What are they doing here at this time of day? The Fool sweeps me a cool glance containing more than an easy observation.
     An unholy laugh spirals from Declan's smoky throat, "Isn't this fun?"
     The blood-freezing aura of the Fool intensifies, and without a single word to Declan, he sweeps away from under the arch, back up the path, past me, melting into the dark growth of trees and grass. Declan's smile grows wolffish, and the look he casts at me is almost taunting. It's like he's gotten the exact thing he's wanted already. My stomach twists. Why?
     "Don't worry darling, I did say I'd get you back." His voice dissolves into the heavy air.
A coldness draws its finger down my back, "What did you do?"
He shakes his head, strolls up to me, puts a finger on his lips and says, "It's a secret," he leans in, the overpowering smell of fire ashes cloaking me, "But you'll know soon enough. I promised."
"I'll be back for you. I promise."
     "Don't mess with me you bastard."
     His dark, dark eyes curve, "You'll see."
     And then he's gone too in the wind and dust and the smell of rising smoke.