'Staying in love with someone,
You know you can't be with,
Is like staying in the cold rain,
Knowing you'll be sick,
But you don't move,
Beacuse it feels great.'
The great hall was dark. The light that could enter, barely shined trough the small crackes in the broken glass windows. Still I felt like i'd never seen better in there, everything seemed looked sad and grey, but still so clear. It looked like a warsone. It was a warsone. The sound of people crying, yelping and gasping for air summed in my ears. For every pale body I saw, I felt a sense of relif. As selfish as it may seem, my head made out the idea that for every dead body i saw, that weren't you, the possibilty that I would find you laying there got less and less. I walked with short steps, not because i felt the need to take in the dreadful state of the hall i once called the 'great hall', but in respect of the people who clinged to the body of their loved ones. Clinging to the still fresh and warm memory of their smile, laugther and presence. I lifted my sight. My body froze and at that moment, I was sure my heart had stopped. I lost the grip of time, space. As i saw you there, not alive, but not dead yet either, all our memories floaded trough my head as a movie I never wanted to stop.
-
When he looked at me I felt a pinch of relif. I had lost someone I loved, but next to me sat the one person I didn't know how to live without. And because to me, that was who he was - The person who choosed to love, despite how he grew up not knowing what real love meant. He never knew what it meant to be kissed softly over his forhead when he was scared and needed comforting. But still, he sat next to me and non stop hummed a comforting song trying his best to comfort me, like he should've been all those times he had fell and scratched his knees up in his big lonely garden.
'
