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To someone I've loved/love/will love

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To someone I’ve loved/love/will love,

You shone like the moon to me, you know?

It was night for me. Everything seemed to end. I was so terribly lost in the darkness, no star in that black sky above me. I was numbed by everything; the cold rain on my shoulders, the way everyone walked past, ignored me. Maybe looked at me, then diverted their gaze in embarrassment at my figure.
And in that night, you were the moon.
Shining so bright, the only thing that guided my way.
Your light was cast onto the stones in front of me, showing me where I had to go, which steps I needed to take.

I was attracted by your light like a moth would have been to the flame because you were the only one giving me attention. The only light in my life, up above.

I’m pretty sure anyone would’ve done, if only it was someone finally seeing me.
I didn’t know that was what I needed, wanted, longed for. All my life, I thought I was better off alone.
Until you crashed into my life like a bomb, exploding, tearing everything down with you as you went and ravaged my entire being. From then on, everything changed for me.

While I might not have cared much about myself, I started caring about something. Someone.

Your eyes seemed like something that came close to the moon, no matter their colour. Your hair looked like it would join the wind that would surround us. Your figure became one with the stars for me in that night where we sat below the sky, its lights surrounding us with a wonderful gold.
You became one of them; beautiful, bright, out of reach.
Yet, I wasn’t sure what to do. Sometimes it felt like you were mine, and I was yours, and everything about us was a masterpiece.

But we weren’t that, were we?

We were destruction, just like our first encounter on a day where everything seemed so hopeless.
I’ve never quite understood why you’ve reached out to me. Took my hand. Kissed me. What did you see in such a hopelessly lost man as I am?

What do you, the moon, see in me, the night?
Why would the flame come to the moth?

And yet, the more I try to say that I love you, the more the words get stuck in my throat.

I remember the first time you left. Giving me nothing more than your family name and a pair of earrings. Not that it mattered much; I found you again.
After years of hating you for leaving me.
Upon seeing your face, I forgot all that hate. But then you left me.
And this time, it was forever.

Yet, despite this darkness having settled in my bleeding heart, I still remember that one night on the rooftop. As if it was yesterday.
Even though part of me hates you – god, if only I knew what I was feeling – I won’t ever forget.
Thank you for being the moon while sitting in its light.

Thank you, Lacie.

In love/hate,


Jack’s legs are dangling off the edge of the rooftop, a hand in his. Said hand is smaller than his, fingers intertwined, a thumb rubbing the palm of his hand repeatedly.
Oswald is sitting a little apart from them in the window, feet placed behind their backs. Lacie has already teased him being too scared to move down to the roof with them, but Jack suspects he might just want to give them some space.

Above them, the stars are twinkling in the night sky. The moon is shining onto them. Jack takes a peek at her, turning his head just a little. The crescent is being reflected in her eyes, the colour of dark red blood turning nearly purple by how the moon appears to be slightly blue.
Stars are in these eyes too, pooling in them as if her eyes were water.
Her face, too, is lit up by the moon. Her lips are slightly pursed but turn into something that looks like a grin when she notices that he’s staring.

But how could he not? With her looking so beautiful in this light, skin nearly luminescent. Her black hair contrasts her skin and eyes, black on white and crimson.

If he hadn’t already fallen for her, this would be the moment he would have. Nevertheless, the way she looks right now makes him love her all the more.

Lacie is perfect. He has no idea why she’s holding his hand, doesn’t understand why she’s putting up with him like this, doesn’t know why she’s kissed him this one time. He’ll never forget how her lips felt against his, and how his own tasted either. He’ll never forget how she smelled of flowers up close, how her eyelashes fluttered shut, how her hair tickled him. He won’t ever forget how her waist felt in his hands and how her hands grasped his shirt.

It was a night just like this one.

“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I died now.”

The sentence catches Jack off-guard, and makes him look at her even more intensely. The grin on her lips fades into a sad smile.

“What if I did end up falling off this roof, and died? What would you do, Jack?”

Jack puts one of his feet to edge of the roof to prop his head up on knee.

“I’d die with you.”

Oswald doesn’t say a single thing, but Jack hears him shifting on the windowsill. He’s probably uncomfortable just being there, but he’s promised Levi to make sure nothing would happen. Jack has no idea what he thought would happen. Levi will forever remain a mystery to him.

“Why? What do you feel towards me?” her voice is low, bordering on a whisper. If Oswald hears, he doesn’t react.

As if Jack had any idea what he truly feels towards her. He’s barely ever been good at sorting out his own feelings, but that changed drastically after changing into a different person on an hourly basis. The amount of faces, of masks, that he’s built in the past seven years was too much.
He has no clue who he is. Not anymore.

A homeless man. A man living in a manor.
The son of a prostitute. The son of a wealthy man.
A child who was supposed to be like his father that he’s never met. Until so much later.
Someone who’s used people. Someone who’s been used.
A man who sold his body to arrive where he is now.
Someone who has loved a woman, yet that feeling turned into pure hatred in the span of seven years that passed.
Someone who has changed his mindset and opinion on a woman nearly every night. It was either crying because he missed her so much, looking into the mirror, wondering why she wasn’t sitting beside him. Or it was him cursing the moment they mad on that day full of snow.
There was never any in between.

There are so many answers that would be right. And all of them contradicting each other.

“I don’t know.”

It’s probably the most honest he can get.

“Do you love me? Do you hate me?”

Both, he wants to scream, but it doesn’t leave his throat ever. He wants to tell her how he’s searched for her for years just because she was the only one to make him feel anything, ever. He wants to tell her that she got him out of this numbness, and that suddenly feeling everything at once broke him. Into a million pieces.

It’s not like he even cares whether he loves or hates her. Whatever it is that he’s feeling, it’s a feeling and that’s more than he ever could have hoped for.

“It’s alright. You know what? I don’t even want an answer, if I’m honest. Whatever it is that you feel towards me, it’s fun to be around you.”

Jack’s heart aches at that, feels her hand slipping away from below his. At first, he feels cold, but he doesn’t anymore when she leans his head against his shoulder. Her hair is tickling his neck. Just like the time they kissed.

Oh, how direly he would love to kiss her below the moon, the moon that he sees her as, but Oswald is in the window above them, still shifting on the sill, as if he was scared of falling off.

It’s cold for summer. And he has yet to go home.

He decides that for now, it doesn’t matter what he feels for her. The only important thing is that because of her, he can feel something. He hates her for that, would have preferred staying numb, but now it feels as if he’s dependent on the rush that she gives him.

“You’re also fun to be around for me, Lacie,” Jack says, putting on one of the many masks, because he has long forgotten what fun actually is.

He smiles, the mask still on. Or is this the real him? He can’t tell.

“I’m glad. I’d disagree, but I also don’t really care,” she says, seemingly pouting now.

Jack doesn’t understand her. Maybe he never will.
Maybe it’s because she feels like the moon to him – out of reach, so far away that he won’t ever get to understand.
At least the moon is beautiful to stare at. Even when he can’t have it for himself.