Fire and Ice

Too Far Gone

He thinks I still don't know him. That I have absolutely no idea who he is. And that he knows exactly who I am. How horrible I am. How arrogant I am. How completely, utterly, cold and black my heart is. 

His words, not mine. 

The truth is, he hasn't even taken the time to know me. Although to be fair, I haven't really let him. I don't know. But observing him for all these months has told me everything I need to know about him. 

He isn't gentle. He shouts, yells, and hits. 

He isn't reserved. He sits, eats, walks, and talks any way he wants. 

He isn't what you'd call humble, either. When he knows he's got something, he flaunts it. 

He doesn't hold back. He says whatever he wants, however he wants to say it. 

He's completely insufferable, at times. His honesty stings. 

The thing is, I don't care about any of it. I don't care if he doesn't spend his entire free time lounging around, like our teammates seem to love to do. I don't care if he doesn't act as he's told. I don't care if he's loud, obnoxious, rude, conceited, tactlessly honest, and generally violent. I don't care. In fact, I find his honesty endearing. 

Okay, maybe endearing isn't the right word. Maybe more along the lines of...lovable. 

No, that's not the right word either. 

I find his honesty....refreshing. 

Someone who doesn't automatically worship the ground I walk on. He can tell me anything he wants, and I let him get away with it. Not because I like him too much to fight back. I do preserve my ego/pride, and so forth. There are very few who can say what he says to me and get away with it alive. But I let him because I love the look he gets on his face when he thinks he's won. It makes him genuinely smile. Albeit a slightly corrupted, evil, abnormally cheerful smile, but a smile nonetheless. And I can rarely see him smile like that. 

He pretends like he thinks what others say doesn't matter. 

I know better. 

I know the muscles in his jaw tense right as he's about to lose his temper. 

I know that he bites the inside of his jaw to keep from swearing. Calm, cool, collected water-type and all that. 

And I see the pain in his eyes even before he feels it. 

I know his limit. 

And I pride myself on crossing it every available moment. I like the thrill. The thrill of driving him insane. Of knowing I affect him. Make him feel something. 

I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. Or at least not the "look-before-you-leap" type of thinker. Most of the time it happens after I've royally screwed up. Which, to be perfectly honest, happens a lot. 

I've made a lot of mistakes. More than my share, in fact. 

But there is something I know I'm doing right. Him. Greninja. I love him. And I know that. It doesn't matter how much he screams, yells, hits, and insults me. It doesn't change how I feel about him. And maybe that's why I need it. This one thing in my life reassures me that I'm not a total ass. 

He's mad. 

Out of his mind. 

Although, I'm the one to thank for half of his insanity. 

And that's what I love most about him. It makes him...well, Greninja. Makes him special, different, unique. 

When I say I love him, it's not because I want him. Or because I can't have him. 

It has nothing to do with me. 

It's him. 

I love what he is. 

What he does. 

How hard he tries. 

I've seen his kindness, his power, his strength. I've seen the best of him and the worst of him, and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what he is. 

He's brave and scared. He's strong and weak. He's gentle and aggressive. He's powerful and vulnerable. 

He's something else, all right. 

And I love him too much to stop now.