Planets (PruAus)

Sun

A/N:
This is where the songs start to come in. Please, please listen before you read, it sets the tone for the chapter and I promise it is relevant, and leave comments for me if you'd like. I love to read them and it helps me improve as an author. (I also don't mind in-line comments either, I know some authors don't but I enjoy them so you can do that too!)
Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy.
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I want to make it known that is indeed a happy story. It is a happy story despite the tears shed both while the events within it had played out those years ago and even now as I rewrite them with an older hand and bandaged heart. I was once told by someone in my youth, an old friend whose name I have long-since forgotten, that every story is a happy story for someone, even if the ending has a broken heart or two. Of course, back then, I scoffed and shook my head him; no one can be happy with a broken heart, I replied, foolishly unaware of how great a lie I had told.

See, this story is not mine, I want to make that very clear. This is his story, and I just so happened to be lucky enough to have been a part in it. I don't intend for this to be published, however if it somehow falls into the hands of a greedy man or woman in desperate need of a story, I beg, I plead, to that person and those curious eyes and hearts which peer over my words, do not call this a tragedy.

It is a fairy tale.

It is a story of such wonder and happiness that even I sometimes question if it all happened or if I had simply made it up in some twisted fever dream during one of the many cold and lonely winters I spent before I met the man whose life is the center of it.

Like any great fairy tale, there is magic in his story. There is wonder and fun and love and kindness and light. But, there is also darkness. A deep routed, twisting, slowly devouring blackness which had thread it's way into the shadows throughout the entirety of him and his story and his life.

Now, this is why I beg you not to call it a tragedy. As you may have guessed by now, this story does not have a happy ending. It ends with wounds and cries and fire and pain like none other.

But the beauty before then, the light before the shadows outshines that pain and those wounds and the fires and the cries and is so great and wonderful that to make a story as happy as this into a sad one simply because it ends that way would be nothing short a crime.

This will be a fast read, if anyone with peering eyes should find themselves upon his story. There will be some expanses of time, some memories and moments I will keep between he and I, and I shall take them with me to the grave. However, I will put as much of his soul into these words as I can (though I'm not the most versed man in the world, so I may do his story little justice, to which I apologize deeply). He simply can not be written, he is too rare and beautiful a man for me to write him down properly. But, I will try my hardest in the hopes of showing you that this is merely a happy story with a sad ending, and that the only real tragedy which lay underneath these words is the idea that any memory containing Gilbert, any at all, could be a sad one.