Each second seemed to span a lifetime, each moment of their fragile stillness an eternity, and yet it was nothing more than a single grain of sand in the hourglass of their lives. His tail kept flicking at odd intervals, something he had always done in life and carried with him into this half-death, and for a long while, it was his only outward sign of life. He didn't know who she was, and, perhaps, it was not only the time which had separated them, but the.. other Psyches interfering. He didn't know, and it felt safer to just watch, to see who she was, allow her to reveal herself. And, surely, it was not the Psyche of his past.. for that Psyche did not wear stress and pain like a second skin, did not have such vulnerability painted on her face like a target for him to hit.

But he wouldn't make that blow, ever. It was not in him, nor in his desires, to shatter her. He could still remember the softness of her touch, of her gentle, tender caress, those feral eyes turned meek and warm. "I love you," she would tell him, her 'brows furrowing in sadness and confusion. "Why are you so distant?" And she'd touch him again, as if her presence could melt him, and he had simply clenched his jaw and looked aside, further hurting her — but he had been unable to say the words.

"Because you are not real."

And not even in dreams, could he hurt her.
And neither could he comfort her.

She started to move closer, but then seemed to think better of it, and he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. It was as if her movements sucked the force out of his, and his tail grew still, a testimony to his attention. Hesitation? Why? What did it mean and why did they turn up like this and- he clenched his jaw and thrust the thought aside. A misguided desire to protect and a profound sense of longing combined. What else could it be? "They... miss you, you know," she said and he wondered, is this what I want to hear? That they missed him, that they wanted him, instead of her? Of course he wanted to come back, to embrace them all again, to see their eyes and faces and watch over them.. but did he truly wish for them to mistrust Psyche, to cling to an old hope of him returning?

Or do I have to face this, so I can let go?
He had said, that he would fight to find a way back, but day by day to end his restless existence seemed more and more appealing. In the hours of night when his mind tormented him, and in the hours of day when his nightmares hounded him, it would certainly seem a mercy kill.

"I miss you," and something within him threatened to break. Groaning "Oh god, Psyche,", he took a single step forward in their well of darkness, but dared not cross the entire distance. Somehow, he was still wary of her, and of himself, and what he might do — feel — when this storm raged within his skull and soul. "What wouldn't I give to return..." His voice drew out into a whisper, hung in the air, and then shattered like a dream, a spiderweb torn from its trees. Wishes, hopes and prayers had brought him nowhere, and with defeat in his blue eyes he lowered his gaze to the floor. "But I cannot find the way."

Mauja Frosthjärta