I should have loved a thunderbird instead
at least when spring comes they roar back again
I He feels suspended in the moment, trapped between each breath and each pulse of his wretched heart as it stammers ineloquently against his chest. How he wishes he had the skill to tell the other of what he feels. How he wishes that he could somehow twist his tongue into something poetic enough to capture the way that he soars in Pteron’s presence—how the very glimpse of him makes everything feel dull and lifeless in comparison. Instead, he just stands there, quietly, his purple eyes dark, his mouth set.
It is only when Pteron speaks again, rolling his shoulders, that Aegean gives a breathy laugh, the sound catching and tripping on the end of his tongue. “It is impossible, I have found,” he agrees, because he who has dedicates so much of his life to the art of weaving illusions could never quite capture the beauty of Pteron within them. There was always something astray, something missing. Just the spark in his eye and the mischievous tilt of his lips when he was beginning to smile. The warmth and the fervor.
Still, he has tried.
How hard he has tried.
The question catches him off guard and were he someone prone to feelings of embarrassment, he would perhaps think of lying. Perhaps think of trying to at least obscure the truth behind something like a fib or a weaving of tales that would hide the meaning of it. But Aegean has never been anything but honest and he doesn’t change now. He instead catches Pteron’s gaze and holds it steady, studies him for a second before he nods his antlered head. “I have tried every day since we last met. I find that I cannot sleep unless I have at least the faded whisper of you next to me.” A sad smile that pulls at his white mouth.
“Is that intrusive? To think that I carry your memory with me in such a way?”
He does not answer whether the reference would help.
He’s not sure he could.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
@[Pteron]