[P] the world we close our eyes to see

[Samaira]

i guess i could swim for days in the salty sea

They are smiling at each other, but neither of their smiles are what they should be. Samaira’s is a stitch, a glue, holding together all the parts of her that had been struck against the seaside rocks like ocean spray. He tries to tell her that he doesn’t deserve the things that he wants in his heart, and she wants to tell him that he’s wrong.

He has always been wrong. Always been punishing himself for things he shouldn’t be, as though he is not good enough just the way that he is. Somehow, that almost hurts worse than the fading flicker of flames inside her. That almost hurts worse than knowing his heart is someone else’s.

The pegasus doesn’t get a chance to tell him that, as he sighs like the waves and the skies and looks her in the eyes as he makes his escape. Samaira would still stand with him on this beach forever, even in silence. Even knowing he does not love her. Even with the hurt, because it is the way of her heart, to want something so deeply, so completely. To suffer for the things she wants.

She seems to have lost the courage to say all the things she wants to say, even though there are hundreds of words tumbling through her mind. She wants to ask him to wait, to stay—selfishly—just a little while longer. Will she ever be ready to let go of him?

Hope, Samaira thinks, is the thing that lets her fly. And here he goes, taking it all with him, pulling it from her like he’s unspooling some invisible thread from her soul. When Asterion reaches out to brush his cheek with hers, she tries to remember exactly how it feels, fearing it will be the last time she ever comes this close to him again.

She tries to remember the exact placement of each of the star-specks upon his back, of the way the light hits his evening eyes, because when she says, “Farewell, Asterion,” it feels like saying goodbye forever. And, when he turns away she almost—almost—takes a step after him.

The ocean is sighing at her feet and everything in Samaira is being washed away like his prints in the sand. She stands there until she is no longer certain whether she imagined the entire thing; whether it was all a terrible dream. At some point she gives up waiting for him to come back, and makes her way to the only place she knows will always be there: the hospital, and her work.

but in the end, the waves will discolour me

⚕ | @Asterion end ;c