Off My Chest. [Jadam One-shot]

Night-time Woes

It's you.

It's only ever been you.

My first love, and presumably my only.

Here I am, lazily sitting beside you in your living room, recording yet another YouTube video with you. 'Do we have dyslexia,' is it? My eyes subconsciously wander onto your rosy cheeks yet again, softly measuring what's on your mind. Right, sure, I honestly don't mind. As long as I am spending my time with you, everything is fine. Humans like you call these happy days.

Life is good.

Until you die again.

Then I'll spend many more centuries just to find another reincarnation of you; your scent lingers in my mind like a miasma, I don't think I could ever let you go. You see, I've tried forgetting about you a few millennia ago. I don't mean to follow you everywhere like a lost puppy, even a demon has his limits. But there's just... something about you. The way you smile, the way you talk, the way you love.

I wish I had a heart like yours.

But I don't, and every time you die in my arms, a small piece of me dies with you, knowing I'd never be able to die with you, to reset; maybe we weren't meant to be. Every time you end up forgetting about what I look like, my voice, my personality, and how much I love you. Though that's okay. I'd follow you to the end, even if you never knew about what lengths I would go to for you.

This time, you're James Rallison. A young blonde from Arizona who has a passion for creating, you had that name and that hobby like you always did. I knew it was you from the instant I'd seen you online, or rather, heard you. Honestly, seeing you create such a large following out of something you love is gratifying, even for me. A demon. Someone you'd only been introduced to a few years ago. A stranger. I know it won't be long until we fall in love again. We'd repeat the whole process, and soon you'll be gone, again. But I can't wait for you to spend yet another life of yours with me.

Out of the hundreds of lives you've spent with me, I don't think I've ever told you about what transpires each time you die. About how I would just seemingly disappear into thin air, like another cloud of smoke drifting away from some smoker in the alleyway, in those streets that are always awake. For example, when you're gone, 'Adam Ortiz' would cease to exist too. That identity would be gone. It will disappear to honour you and this life you had, this life of ours that 'James and Adam' shared. People wouldn't find a trace of me, not even on the internet. But this time you sure have left your mark online. I don't think I'll erase it. I don't think you would want that. I'll keep it pristine and untouched, just for you.

I would drag my shattered heart along with me in hopes of finding you again in some random place. Is this too cheesy? You always hated that kind of stuff; you'd tell me to stop and chuckle in embarrassment every time I say something dumb. But back on topic, I don't think I'll ever tell you about what happens either, because crying doesn't look good on you. I'll have to spend hours wiping away your tears each time, it's like a broken pearl necklace in which the beads just won't ever stop hitting the ground. I hate the sound it makes, and I'm scared of your pouring cheeks. But I do love it when they would flush with that bright, vibrant pink every time you laugh. It's getting rarer, though.

I still hate the time I spend on earth without you after all these years. There are moments where the thought of you consumes my mind, often a few hours after midnight, where I try my hardest to leave my mind a blank and fall dead asleep. But you, you always bleed through. My night-time woes always consist of you and how you would leave so suddenly each time; you always die too soon. But I swear, I don't blame you. I might even be addicted to this certain kind of sadness, because the juxtaposition and contrast of that feeling I get when I find you again is breathtaking. Then after my incessant thoughts about you, I'd often be at the mercy of a dream; sometimes I'd get to see you alive and well, even happy and smiling at times. Albeit, rare. But those are the only instances where I would dream with my eyes wide open, with a smile, too. I've seen many worlds without you, and I can tell from my personal experience that they might just be the dullest thing ever. I don't wish to ever go somewhere without you again, but it can't be helped.

Fortunately, this is not the time I should be worrying about that.

Absentmindedly turning around to see you one last time, you're still facing the camera.

It wasn't long before I stepped outside to get us some snow cones. Or rather, one. Sharing it would be romantic, don't you think?