protective_logic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
protective_logic) wrote2015-11-11 11:04 am
protective_logic) wrote2015-11-11 11:04 am
Day Two Post Maine
There are things he can't put in the box, and so they hang over him like a plague. A curse. A constant reminder of his failings. Simple things he misses, he's lacking, that he can't take out of the box to hold and feel and pretend everything is okay.
At night his bed is cold and empty. Even if not here and now, he always used to imagine those arms at night. They were almost infinitely warm, eternally safe. Except nothing is external. So when he crawls into his cold, lonely bed, he rolls toward the wall. Faces it, closes his eyes, and wraps his arms around himself. They aren't warm enough, or strong enough. Tey are always his own and a reminder of what he's lost. And what he needs more than ever.
When he wakes in the mornings he misses his smiles. His own smiles. Maine's smiles. ANy smiles. once, when he woke up and went about his morning prep, there was a smile. HE would see it there, reflected in the glass. There was joy when he was loved. Past tense. Like his own smiles.
Mostly, though, he misses the knowledge that he was worth something. It's an illusion he's dismissed. What right has he to hold to such a lie? No man worth anything would ever do something so cruel. Perhaps love was something he wasn't meant for. Well, no, the little ones loved him. They know no better, and will come to understand it as well. Time will always tell, and the story Delta has learned of it is that he can't be happy. Won't let himself. He doesn't deserve it.
Omega, after all, wasn't the only one to have failed so very long ago. Anger was Omega's penance. Emptiness would be Delta's.
At night his bed is cold and empty. Even if not here and now, he always used to imagine those arms at night. They were almost infinitely warm, eternally safe. Except nothing is external. So when he crawls into his cold, lonely bed, he rolls toward the wall. Faces it, closes his eyes, and wraps his arms around himself. They aren't warm enough, or strong enough. Tey are always his own and a reminder of what he's lost. And what he needs more than ever.
When he wakes in the mornings he misses his smiles. His own smiles. Maine's smiles. ANy smiles. once, when he woke up and went about his morning prep, there was a smile. HE would see it there, reflected in the glass. There was joy when he was loved. Past tense. Like his own smiles.
Mostly, though, he misses the knowledge that he was worth something. It's an illusion he's dismissed. What right has he to hold to such a lie? No man worth anything would ever do something so cruel. Perhaps love was something he wasn't meant for. Well, no, the little ones loved him. They know no better, and will come to understand it as well. Time will always tell, and the story Delta has learned of it is that he can't be happy. Won't let himself. He doesn't deserve it.
Omega, after all, wasn't the only one to have failed so very long ago. Anger was Omega's penance. Emptiness would be Delta's.