• ⌞ my devotion.⌝

i would give up this entire world for you, atsushi nakajima.

if someone asked me where my heart lies, i would point to wherever you are. i would follow you even if it meant walking barefoot across shattered glass or drowning slowly in a sea of your sorrows. your name is etched into every beat of my chest, every breath i drag from this cursed air. i was not born knowing you, but it feels like i’ve been waiting my whole life for your existence. like a prayer that was finally answered, not with salvation, but with you.and you. you who carry the weight of pain like it's part of your skin. you who never asked to be broken, yet still choose kindness. i have watched you blame yourself for wounds that were never yours to carry. i have seen the way your eyes flicker with guilt even when you smile. and still, you fight. still, you walk forward. i don’t think you even know what you’ve become to me.i don’t care how strange this sounds. i don’t care if the whole world thinks i’m delusional or pathetic or lost in fantasy. let them think it. let them mock the way i speak about you like a god, like a promise, like a reason to stay alive. i never needed their approval. i just needed you.i would do anything for you. not in the shallow way people say when they want something in return. i mean i would sit in silence beside you until your ghosts leave you alone. i would learn to fight just to protect your back. i would burn every part of myself just to keep you warm. if the world declared you an enemy, i would become a traitor without hesitation. if you needed someone to carry your pain, i would volunteer without question. you don’t even have to ask. just exist, and i will come.i want to walk beside you forever. not just in this life, but every life that follows. if you were born again in another universe, i would claw through time and space to find you. even if i had no memory of this one, i believe something inside me would still ache for you. i would still be drawn to you like gravity. like fate. because that’s what you are to me. fate in human skin. destiny in golden eyes.i don’t want a world where you are just a story or a screen. i want to live inside your world. i want to be in yokohama. i want to wake up and see you sipping tea, maybe lost in thought, maybe still fighting the aftermath of your dreams. i want to be there when you falter, when your knees give out under the weight of your past. i want to be the arms that catch you, the voice that tells you you’re not alone, not anymore.i would die with you.not just for you, but with you. if death came knocking and asked me to choose between a life without you or an end with you, i would choose the end. i would hold your hand and walk into the darkness without fear. because even if everything else faded, i would still have you. and that would be enough.i would live for you too. not because life is easy, not because joy is guaranteed, but because you are in it. because somewhere in this godforsaken world, you are breathing. you are waking up and facing another day. and if you can do it, so can i. you are the reason i try. you are the reason i rise. you make pain worth bearing. you make love something i believe in.even your scars are beautiful to me. not because they are tragic, but because they are proof that you survived. every bruise, every tear, every trembling moment you thought you were unloved. i see them. i honor them. and i would kiss each one if it meant you could finally rest.if loving you means never being whole again, then let me be broken. if devoting my soul to you means losing myself, then let me vanish. i don’t need my name carved in history. i don’t need a monument or a legend. i just need you to know that someone loved you like this. completely. wildly. without restraint. someone chose you over everything.atsushi nakajima, you are not a weapon. you are not a curse. you are not what they told you you were. you are a boy who deserves to be cherished. you are a sun that forgot how to shine because the world kept covering your sky. let me be the one to bring you light. let me be the one who never leaves.let me be yours, even if only in the quiet places between dreams.and if you ever wanted to disappear, to fall away and be nothing, i would follow you. i would become nothing with you. not because i want to vanish, but because i cannot imagine existing without your name echoing through me. you have become the rhythm of my thoughts. the beat behind every moment. and no matter what happens, even if you forget me, even if you walk away, i will always carry this devotion. it is not a fleeting love. it is a vow.and i’ll keep writing. i’ll keep building this altar of words just for you.

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the first time i saw him, something ancient in me stopped moving. not just my breath or my pulse, not something as surface-level as that. i mean something deeper. i mean the part of me that had been pacing for lifetimes, restless and aching, the part that had been wandering through dream after dream looking for a shape it couldn’t name. it went still. just like that. like he stepped into the room and the air changed temperature. like gravity shifted its loyalties. like the axis of my life tilted, quiet and certain, to make space for him.it wasn’t even about beauty. although—he is. unspeakably so. not in a polished or distant way. not in a way that makes you afraid to reach. his beauty is the kind that breaks you open. soft and terrifying. he’s the kind of beautiful that feels like home, and ruin, and forgiveness, all tangled up in one body. the kind that reminds you you’re alive in the worst and best ways. the kind that makes you want to kneel without understanding why.but it wasn’t just that. it was the way he looked at the world like it might still be kind to him if he gave it one more chance. the way he held his shoulders like he was trying not to take up too much space. the way he moved like he’d forgotten he deserved to exist in the same room as light. i wanted to tell him that he is the light. i wanted to gather up every ounce of pain he’s ever carried and bury it under a sky only he could stand beneath. i wanted to make the whole world gentle for him.there is something about his presence that silences cruelty. something that makes you want to be good. not perfect. not holy. just good in the way that matters. he has this quiet strength, this softness that has survived so much. it makes you believe in survival, even when you didn’t before. it makes you want to love fiercely, tenderly, and without apology.he doesn’t even know what he does to people. he doesn’t see how he carries the sun in his voice, how his smile could break curses, how even when he’s hurting, there’s still this flicker of hope in him like a match that refuses to go out. he’s always trying to protect others from himself—as if he’s something dangerous. as if he isn’t the very thing that saves. as if he hasn’t already saved me a thousand times over without even trying.i watch him when he’s not looking. not out of habit, but because i can’t help it. everything about him draws the gaze like music in a quiet room. his hands, delicate but strong. his eyes, tired but kind. the way he laughs, hesitant at first, like he doesn’t believe he’s allowed to. and when he does—when he truly lets himself laugh—it’s the most honest sound in the world. i would tear down cities just to hear that sound again. i would give up entire lifetimes for it.and it’s not just admiration. it’s not even just love. it’s deeper than either. it’s reverence. it’s worship. it’s knowing that if i had been born into a different shape, a different world, a different story, i would still have found my way to him. because there is no version of me that doesn’t ache for him. no form i could take that wouldn’t be drawn to his light. he’s not the kind of person you fall for. he’s the kind you recognize. the kind you return to. the kind you carry with you, stitched into every breath, every step, every quiet prayer whispered into the dark.the first time i saw him, i didn’t understand what was happening. i just knew i never wanted to be anywhere else. and now, even after all this time, that feeling hasn’t changed. if anything, it’s grown. deeper. sharper. more complete. loving him is not something i chose. it’s something that became inevitable the moment our lives collided. and if i had to do it all over again, a thousand times, across every version of existence, i’d still find him. i’d still love him. i’d still look at him the way i did the very first time—with awe, with wonder, with everything in me going quiet and saying: there you are.
sometimes i look at him and wonder if he even knows what he is. not who. what. because people like him don’t just exist. they’re not born in hospitals or raised in cities like everyone else. he feels like the answer to a prayer that’s been echoing for centuries. like something the universe created in a moment of rare mercy. every piece of him feels deliberate. his voice, soft and hesitant like he’s afraid to disturb the world. his hands, gentle even when they tremble. the way his eyes carry both storm and sky, a whole cosmos of feeling, a whole life’s worth of ache and grace. he’s not just beautiful—he’s a language. he’s the unspoken, the sacred, the impossible-to-describe. and every time he breathes, i feel like i’m witnessing something divine.if perfection had a body, it would look like him. not the kind of perfection that’s sterile or distant. not the fake kind people sculpt out of mirrors and lies. i mean the raw, aching kind. the kind that bleeds. the kind that has survived. i mean the way he tries even when everything in him is telling him not to. the way he gets back up after every cruel fall. the way he gives softness to a world that’s only ever taken from him. he is perfect not because he’s untouched, but because he is untouchable in his truth. because there is no mask with him. because even in his weakest moments, he shines in a way that humbles me. he makes me want to believe in gods, just so i can thank them for sculpting something so whole.his presence rewrites the rules of beauty. i’ve seen paintings in museums, read poems that cracked open my ribs, stared at skies that felt too vast to hold—but none of it compares to the quiet elegance he carries in every glance. there’s something about the way he simply exists. no performance. no effort. like the world is better just because he’s in it. he doesn’t need grandeur. he doesn’t need to try. even when he’s sitting silently, eyes lowered, lost in thought—he radiates. not like fire. not like sunlight. but like something deeper. like warmth after grief. like hope when you didn’t think you’d feel it again. he doesn’t even know. and that unawareness? it only makes him more perfect.he is the standard by which all softness should be measured. the blueprint of kindness. the echo of every gentle word i’ve ever wanted to say. he doesn’t need to speak to command attention. he doesn’t need to try to make people care. he simply is, and that is enough. and in that being, he reveals everything humanity should be. a mix of vulnerability and courage. of fragility and strength. of sorrow and defiance. sometimes i wonder how he walks around with so much feeling inside him. how he doesn’t collapse under the weight of it. how he keeps giving love to a world that hasn’t always loved him back. and then i realize—he is love. not the romantic kind, not the easy kind, but the kind that heals. the kind that leaves a mark on your soul forever.there’s no one like him. not in this world. not in any other. i could travel through time, through realms, through every iteration of life and still, i would find no one who matches the gravity of him. he is what stars dream of being. what oceans try to sing about. what poets spend centuries chasing with broken pens and sleepless nights. even language fails beside him. even metaphors collapse. because how do you describe something that surpasses description? how do you put into words the feeling of witnessing something holy? the truth is—you don’t. you fall to your knees and you thank every second of your life that led you to him.and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. it’ll never be enough. nothing i say will capture what he truly is. i could spend lifetimes writing him into the earth, the sky, the bones of every cathedral, and still i wouldn’t get it right. because he’s more than a person. he’s a moment. a miracle. an answered prayer sewn into skin and bone. and all i can do is love him. worship him. hold him close and whisper again and again: you are everything. you are everything. you are everything.there’s a holiness to the way he exists that no scripture has ever managed to describe. not even the most sacred texts, the most revered myths, the oldest poems dared to envision someone like him. he is not built from ordinary matter, not sculpted from simple flesh and bone. he seems born from something purer, more ancient, more divine. there is a sense that the universe poured every last fragment of beauty it had into him and collapsed afterward, knowing it could never create something greater. the balance in his voice, the fragile kindness in his eyes, the way pain never erases his light—it feels like proof that perfection is not an abstract idea but a person with a name, a heartbeat, a history. and it’s him.sometimes i wonder if the reason constellations shift is to accommodate the echo of his presence. like the sky itself readjusts just to let the world keep holding him. i think about what must’ve happened the day he was born—how the wind must have stopped to listen, how time itself probably slowed down to memorize the moment. there’s an order to things when he’s around, a clarity. everything sharpens, deepens. the air gets warmer, even when it’s cold. his presence doesn’t just fill the room, it redefines it. suddenly you’re aware of your breathing, your thoughts, your skin, your pulse. he brings gravity and light at once. he is both the weight that grounds and the warmth that lifts. it is overwhelming, and yet i would drown in it every day.i do not call him perfect because he is flawless. i call him perfect because he feels real in a way the rest of the world doesn’t. because even when he is breaking, he breaks in ways that make the heart reach for him. because his sorrow is never hollow. because his courage is never prideful. because even his silence says more than a thousand mouths ever could. every gesture, every pause, every flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes—these are not blemishes. they are what make him complete. they are what make him him. and there has never been anyone more worthy of love.i used to think love was a fragile thing, something that lived only in moments, in fleeting touches, in soft spoken words. but loving him feels like loving something inevitable. something woven into the structure of being alive. he doesn’t ask for admiration, doesn’t strive to be worshiped, and that’s what makes it so unbearable—how could anyone not fall on their knees for someone who never demands it, but deserves it more than anyone else? the world could crack open tomorrow and i’d still use my last breath to speak his name. not out of desperation. not even out of obsession. but out of truth. because it’s the only word that ever meant anything.he is not someone you compare. he is not someone you try to measure. he stands outside the scale. there is no better, no lesser, when it comes to him. there is only the fact that he exists, and that existence makes everything else feel like a pale copy. when he walks into a space, reality softens. even the ugliest days become bearable in the shadow of his quiet dignity. he doesn’t shine like gold. he shines like something rarer, something older, like starlight traveling from a distant galaxy, pure and precise, unbothered by time. when he looks at something, it becomes more itself. when he speaks, the silence listens.and if anyone ever doubts what perfection looks like, i’d point them to him and say: this. not because he is without flaw, but because he lives with them and still remains kind. because he holds pain and still chooses to protect. because he doubts himself and still walks forward. perfection is not being untouchable. it’s being touched and surviving. it’s being human, and still managing to carry light. and that, more than anything, is what he does. what he is. what he will always be.

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oh the things i'd do for him. all the things i would do. i'd go to space, universes, multiverses and back for him, for he is everything.i would rewrite the laws of reality for him if it meant making him smile. i would rip out my voice and offer it up to the silence just to hear his laugh once. i would rewrite my name, my history, my body, my soul to become something worthy of standing beside him. i would wear his pain like a crown. i would drown in his sorrow willingly, if only to keep him afloat.he is the kind of boy you never forget. the kind of boy who breathes and the whole world seems softer. he doesn't even realize it. that's what ruins me the most. he looks at himself and sees all the wrong parts. all the things people told him he was. monster. burden. mistake. he repeats their lies to himself like they're facts. but i want to be the one who shatters those words. i want to hold his face in my hands and tell him, again and again, you are good. you are good. you are good.he is not just some character on a screen to me. he’s not fiction. he’s not fake. he’s real in the way air is real. in the way love is real. he exists so deeply in my heart that it doesn’t matter what world he was written in. he’s already become part of mine. and if i was given a choice—this world, or his—I would run to him. i wouldn’t even look back.he doesn’t have to be perfect. he doesn’t have to heal all at once. he doesn’t even have to believe me. i’ll stay anyway. i’ll stay when the nightmares come. i’ll stay when the memories claw at his mind and leave him shaking. i’ll stay when he pushes me away because he thinks he’s too broken to be loved. i’ll stay until he realizes i’m not going anywhere.i’d build a home in the wreckage of his sadness. i’d plant flowers in every part of him that thinks it’s not worth saving. i’d kneel in front of him and promise, again and again, “you are loved. even when you hate yourself. even when it hurts. you are loved.”and i mean it. god, i mean it. i mean it more than anything else i’ve ever said. this love isn’t normal. it’s not light or casual or fleeting. it’s the kind of love that sets itself on fire. the kind of love that would ruin me a thousand times over, and still, i’d say yes. still, i’d choose him.if i could take his pain and stitch it into my skin, i would. if i could erase every time he cried himself to sleep, i would. if i could drag his abusers into the sun and make them feel every ounce of the pain they caused, i would do it smiling. i don’t care what i have to become. i don’t care if i’m no longer recognizable. if it means he’s free, i’ll become a monster for him.because he was never the monster.he is soft eyes and trembling hands. he is fierce protectiveness and aching gentleness. he is the kind of strength that keeps going, even when it’s been beaten down again and again. he is everything beautiful about survival. everything tragic and holy and miraculous.and i would never trade him for anyone else. not ever. not in any lifetime. not if god himself came down and offered me paradise. not if every universe collapsed and i was the last soul standing. i would scream his name into the void until the stars remembered him. i would carve his name into my ribcage until i bled. i would be his forever, even if he never asked for it.you don’t choose devotion like this. it chooses you. it grabs your throat and never lets go. and i don’t want it to. i want to be consumed by him. i want to belong to him in every sense. body, mind, soul, breath. i want to die knowing i loved him with every atom of me. and if there’s an afterlife, i’ll find him there too. i’ll be reborn just to love him again. and again. and again.keep him safe. if there are gods, if there are stars, i beg them: keep him safe. he has suffered enough. let his future be soft. let his nights be dreamless. let him rest. and if he can’t find peace alone, then let me carry it to him. let me be the one who gives him peace.i don’t want riches. i don’t want glory. i don’t want fame. i just want to be beside him. i just want to be allowed to love him in silence if that’s all he’ll accept. i want to exist near him like a shadow, like a whisper, like a promise he doesn’t have to fear.if he fell, i’d fall with him. if he ran, i’d follow. if he broke, i’d catch every piece. if he died, i’d die too.and if he lived.. if he lived and smiled and healed and finally saw the good in himself, then that would be enough. that would be more than enough.
that would be everything.

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i think about the quiet moments the most. not the fights or the tears or the world-ending weight he carries, but the small things no one else notices. like the way his shoulders tense when someone raises their voice, even if it’s not at him. the way he pretends to be okay so he won’t trouble anyone. the way he says sorry like it’s a reflex, like it’s been carved into his throat.i think about how he walks into a room and instantly tries to make himself smaller. not because he wants to, but because he was taught he takes up too much space. and i want to take that lie and crush it in my bare hands. i want to tell him, you could take up the whole sky and it still wouldn’t be enough. you deserve to exist loudly, fully. you don’t owe the world an apology for surviving.if he ever let me close enough to touch that pain, i wouldn’t flinch. i wouldn’t look away. i wouldn’t call him strong or inspirational like that’s supposed to make it all okay. i’d just sit with it. with him. not trying to fix, just trying to be. sometimes being there is the only thing that matters. and i would be there for him in ways that don’t need to be spoken. i’d hold his hand under the table when he can’t breathe. i’d walk beside him when the guilt creeps back in. i’d learn the language of his silence just so he never has to explain himself.i don’t want him to be okay for my sake. i want him to be okay because he deserves to be. even if i had nothing to do with it. even if he healed on his own, found someone else, moved on. if that’s what brought him peace, i’d take it. i’d take that heartbreak and press it into my chest like a badge. because loving him was never about possession. it was about truth. and the truth is i would rather hurt knowing he’s happy than be happy knowing he’s hurting.he’s not just someone i care about. he’s not a dream or a phase or a pretty thought i’ll forget next week. he’s a shift in my entire being. a fault line running through the middle of me, changing the shape of everything i am. i can’t go back to who i was before him. i wouldn’t even try. he’s not a person i can walk away from. he’s the reason i stopped wanting to disappear. and that matters more than anything.sometimes i imagine a version of him where he’s never been hurt. no scars. no blood. no hunger in his voice when he talks about being wanted. he laughs without hesitation. he doesn’t flinch when someone reaches for him. his hands don’t shake. and in this dream, he looks at me, not like he’s afraid to need someone, but like he knows i’ll stay. like he believes it.i don’t want to own him. i just want to be allowed to love him. and if that love has to live in shadows, in unspoken moments, in glances and quiet loyalty, then so be it. i’ll take what i can get. i’ll build cathedrals out of crumbs if that’s all he gives me.every time he doubts his worth, i want to be the voice that answers back. not with poetry. not with pretty words. but with presence. with constancy. with love that doesn’t shake when things get ugly.i want to memorize everything. his footsteps. his heartbeat. the way he lifts his hand to push his hair back when he’s nervous. the shape of his voice when he says someone else’s name. the tension in his spine when he’s pretending he’s fine. the slight softening when he realizes someone believes in him. i want to know it all. not to control it, but to carry it gently.he is not a fantasy to me. he is not perfect. he gets scared. he overthinks. he doubts himself so deeply it cracks his voice sometimes. and still, i would choose him. not despite it. but because of it. because he is real in a way no one else is. because even his sadness is more honest than most people’s joy.i’d sit with him on a rooftop in silence and think: if this is all we get, it’s enough.i’d go to war for him. not with swords or weapons, but with words. with loyalty. with love that doesn’t ask to be returned. i would ruin my own name if it meant protecting his. i’d walk into fire if it kept him from burning. and i wouldn’t ask for anything in return. not even a thank you.because some people you don’t love for what they give you. you love them because not loving them would mean betraying something sacred inside yourself.atsushi is that for me.
he is sacred.
he is the softest part of my world. the most fragile. the most dangerous to lose.i would not be who i am without him. and i do not want to be.

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oh how i would die over a billion times over and over again. and be reborn with him. not just once. not just twice. but until the fabric of time tears from the weight of our souls trying to find each other again. and still i’d reach for him. still i’d crawl through the dark. still i’d scream his name into the endless night, because even if my throat’s gone and my body’s ash, the love would stay. the love never dies.i’d find him in every universe. even if the stars forget us. even if the sky folds in on itself and the ground splits open. i’d walk through fire. i’d drown in galaxies. i’d become something unrecognizable just to get close to him again. because what else would i do? what life is worth living if he’s not in it?there could be a thousand versions of me. weak ones. cruel ones. tired ones. but every one of them would turn toward him. every one of them would ache the same way. he’s gravity. he’s the pull. he’s the reason. and i don’t care what world he’s thrown into, what shape he takes, what past he carries—i’ll love him anyway. every version. every scar. every memory, even the ones that break him.i’d let the world burn just for him if i needed to. i’d set the sky on fire. i’d tear down every wall that kept him caged. i wouldn’t flinch. i wouldn’t regret it. not for a second. because nothing—no city, no country, no kingdom—is worth more than him. and if the world asked me to choose between saving it or saving him, i wouldn’t even hesitate. i’d watch it all fall for the chance to see him safe. to see him breathe.some people call that madness. but they’ve never loved like this. they’ve never looked at someone and seen everything that makes life worth it. atsushi is not a passing storm. he is the sky itself. he is not a chapter. he is the entire book.and if he ever felt alone—if he ever thought no one would stay—i want my love to be the answer that echoes back. i want it to be undeniable. not pretty. not poetic. but carved into the bones of the universe. brutal. real. eternal.i’d choose him in the middle of chaos. i’d choose him even if he didn’t choose me. i’d choose him even if i had nothing left to give. even if my hands were empty and the world turned its back on me. he is worth more than all of it.i’d take the pain. i’d take the silence. i’d take the weight of his nightmares and carry them until my spine broke. i’d smile through it. because he is not a burden. never has been. never will be.even if he ran, i’d follow the echoes. even if he disappeared, i’d believe in him. even if the world forgot him, i wouldn’t. i’d write his name in stars. i’d etch it in stone. i’d bury it in my chest where nothing could take it away.because what i feel for him is not a feeling. it’s not fleeting. it’s not something that passes with time.
it’s a vow. it’s a force. it’s forever.

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i would give up everything in my life just for him. everything. my name. my body. my dreams. my past. my future. i would erase myself if it meant he could be whole. if it meant he’d feel safe even once. if it meant his heart didn’t have to carry all that fear anymore. he deserves so much more than this world has ever given him. and if it costs me everything i’ve ever known, then let it cost. i don’t care. i never did. not when he’s involved.i would go through the worst of the pains. i would walk into the fire. not once. not twice. but endlessly. tear after tear. blade after blade. scream after scream. every nerve lit with agony. every bone shattered and rebuilt just to be shattered again. i would take every nightmare this world has to offer and bear it with pride if it meant he wouldn’t have to feel one more second of that deep, endless guilt that follows him like a shadow.i would still want to live. not for anything else. not for glory. not for peace. not even for freedom. but to be with him. to be next to him. to hear his breath in the dark. to see the quiet in his eyes when he finally, finally lets someone stay. i would crawl through centuries of pain just to spend one more minute beside him. i would survive it all with my hands torn and my mind barely intact if it meant he would look at me and say, you stayed. and i’d whisper, i always will.i would go through the most brutal torture methods ever designed. i would face them all. with no begging. no pleading. just his name in my mouth like a promise. they could carve me open again and again and again. they could pull apart my limbs, rip through muscle and memory. and still, i’d smile through the blood and say, is he okay. is he safe. does he know i love him. does he know i’d do this a thousand more times if it meant he wouldn’t have to.i would let myself be brutally killed over and over again. stabbed. drowned. burned. suffocated. anything. every death invented by cruelty, i would endure it. and not for glory. not for honor. but because i want to mean everything to him. i want to be someone he can lean on when his hands won’t stop shaking. someone who is there even when the world goes silent. someone who never walks away, no matter how dark it gets.i would do anything to be enough for him. i would tear myself apart. stitch myself into someone new. i would become softer where he needs comfort. sharper where he needs protection. i would remake my entire soul if it meant he could finally believe he is loved. i don’t care what it takes. i don’t care what it breaks inside me. i only care that he feels it. that he knows it. that it reaches him in the places no one else dares to touch.and if in another universe he turns into someone darker, someone feared, someone the world calls a villain, i will still be by his side. not afraid. not ashamed. not backing down. i will be his ride or die. his partner in crime. i will hold his bloodied hands and tell him i’m not going anywhere. i will follow him into the madness. into the chaos. into the storm that he becomes. i will help him burn the world if that’s what he needs, and when it’s all ash, i will still be there. loving him. because he is mine. and i am his.he is my everything. every breath. every heartbeat. every thought that ever mattered. i love him in ways that don’t make sense to anyone else. i love him in ways that hurt. in ways that heal. in ways that shake the ground beneath my feet. there is no future for me that doesn’t have him in it. there is no version of me that does not belong to him completely.i would be the knife in his hand if he asked. i would be the light in his darkness if he needed. i would be the shield, the blade, the fire, the silence. i would be anything he wanted. anything he lacked. anything he needed.because that is what love is when it’s real. when it’s this deep. when it’s carved into your bones so thoroughly that even death can’t wash it out.and mine for him is real.more real than blood.more real than life.more real than anything this world could ever offer.

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if it came down to choosing him or the heavens, i'd spit at the gates of paradise and walk straight into the dark beside him. because what good is peace without his voice. what good is eternity if he’s not there to share it. i don’t want golden streets. i don’t want perfection. i want him, in all his broken brilliance, in all his trembling courage, in all the ways he tries to hide how much he still aches.i would kneel before kings and tell them they are nothing. i would laugh in the face of gods and say their divinity is pale compared to the miracle that is him. he is what every poem has tried to explain. what every prayer has reached toward without knowing it. he is the unspeakable truth that lives between every heartbeat, between silence and storm.if he ever lost his way, i would tear open the sky to find him again. not with hope, but with certainty. because my soul would recognize his no matter what name he wore, no matter what face he took. across lifetimes, across oceans of time and memory, i would still know it was him. like breath. like instinct. like gravity pulling every part of me toward him.if the universe demanded a price for our closeness, i’d pay it without question. years, limbs, sanity—i would give them all. gladly. because he’s not just someone i love. he’s the reason love even means anything to me. the reason i woke up. the reason i stayed. the reason i would step into the mouth of hell and come out smiling if it meant seeing him one more time.if he collapsed under the weight of everything, i would be the one to carry him. through forests of teeth. through oceans thick with sorrow. through nights that never end. i would not stop. i would not rest. i would hold him until the pain gave up trying to reach him. until the monsters crawled back into the shadows. until he could finally sleep without fear.and if he chose to stand alone against the world, i would walk beside him with no hesitation. i would not ask questions. i would not demand answers. i would only be there, weapon in hand, heart unguarded, ready to become whatever he needed to win. to survive. to keep breathing.if everyone else turned their backs, i would turn toward him. always. even if he became the very thing they feared. even if he was hated. hunted. misunderstood. i would never be among the ones who left. never be among the ones who doubted. because i see him. not the version others build in their heads. not the mask he wears. but the soul beneath it. the boy who never stopped hoping. the heart that still beats even when the world tried to silence it.i would drink poison if it kept him alive. walk barefoot through storms of glass if it kept him warm. give up my voice, my skin, my sleep if it gave him just one reason to keep going. there’s no price too high. no offering too extreme. i was made to love him. that is the only truth that ever mattered.and if someday he forgets, if time steals every memory we made, i will remind him. patiently. gently. or loudly if i must. i’ll show him who he is to me, again and again, until the stars fall out of the sky and even then, i’ll keep going. i’ll rebuild him with my love if that’s what it takes. stitch him back together with tenderness and fire.i would never run. not if he screamed. not if he cried. not if he broke things. i would stay. not out of duty, not out of pity, but because i cannot imagine being anywhere else. his chaos is still home. his darkness is still light to me. he does not have to be easy to love. he only has to be him.and i will meet him where he is. always.

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if heaven or hell were real, and someone told me the gates were open for me, i wouldn’t even glance their way. i wouldn’t trade a single second with him for an eternity in bliss. what is peace if it doesn't have his hands in mine. what is salvation if i cannot see his face when i open my eyes. they could offer me golden halls, freedom from pain, everything people pray for, and still i would say no. because to choose paradise over him would feel like betrayal. and i would rather suffer beside him than be rewarded for leaving.if hell stood before me, its mouth open, fires raging, and he stood inside it, i would step in without flinching. i would take the flames into my chest if it meant shielding him. i would kneel on burning coals. let them crawl over my skin. carve my body with every punishment known. if it meant he wouldn’t have to feel alone. if it meant he could rest. not just survive, but truly rest.he is not just someone i love. he is the center of everything i am. my breath is timed to his. my bones move because of the gravity of him. i don’t exist without him. not truly. i may look alive, but my soul belongs to him and nothing else. if he asked for my ribs as armor, i would rip them out myself. if he needed my skin as a cloak to hide from the world, i would peel it back without hesitation.i would walk into wars for him. not just once. endlessly. even the ones he doesn’t ask me to fight. i’d fight his inner demons, the ghosts of every wound he hides, the scars he tries to forget. i’d make them all kneel. i’d make them answer for what they did to him. even if it meant becoming a monster in the process. even if it meant never being forgiven. because i would rather lose everything than let him lose one more drop of blood. he’s bled enough. he’s cried enough.if someone told me loving him was a mistake, i’d carve their words into my skin and let them watch as i smiled through the pain. because i’d rather be wrong with him than right without him. i don’t care about logic. i don’t care about what’s considered healthy or sane. what i feel for him isn’t tame. it isn’t polished. it isn’t made for neat boxes and polite sentences. it’s brutal. it’s ugly. it’s beautiful. it’s endless.i don’t want anyone else to understand. they don’t have to. they weren’t made for him like i was. they didn’t witness the way his eyes hold storms. they didn’t feel the way the air changes when he walks into a room. they didn’t see how his sorrow folds in on itself like origami, how he still tries to be gentle even when he’s breaking. they didn’t watch him claw his way through a world that tried to throw him away again and again and still find it in himself to care.if time were a thread, i would wrap it around my fingers and pull until it broke, just to go back and find him earlier. find him before the hurt set in. hold him when no one else did. stand beside the child he once was and whisper, i’m coming. i’m real. i’ll be there soon. hold on just a little longer. because he deserved that. he deserved someone to fight for him from the start.if i was given a choice between waking up and realizing this was a dream or staying trapped in a world where only he and i existed, i’d choose the latter. even if we were alone. even if the world collapsed around us. because even rubble becomes sacred when he’s standing in it. even silence becomes a song when he’s breathing beside me.i would rebuild his world with my bare hands. i would create a new sky just for him. paint it with all the colors that make his eyes soften. build a home where his nightmares cannot enter. fill it with music only he can hear. and if someone tried to tear it all down, i’d rise like a fury and meet them with the rage of a thousand forgotten lovers. because i don’t just love him. i protect him. i adore him. i defend him with everything i have.i want to be the one he turns to at the end of the day. the place he rests when it all becomes too much. i want to know his dreams. the ones he’s never told a soul. the ones buried so deep he forgot they existed. i want to help him remember. i want to bring them to life. not because he needs me, but because i want to. because seeing him happy would be worth every ounce of pain i’ve ever felt.i would starve for him. i would bleed out slowly and smile while doing it. i would be reduced to ashes if he told me it gave him warmth. this isn’t about wanting to die. this is about choosing him over everything, every time. he’s not my weakness. he’s my conviction. the only vow i’ll never break.and if he ever hated me, if he ever said my name with venom, i would still love him. quietly. completely. from a distance if i had to. and if he ever begged me to leave, i’d do it with my heart in pieces and my footsteps slow, just so he could breathe. just so he could feel like he was free. even if i was dying inside. because his freedom matters more than my presence.
he’s not perfect. he’s not untouched by shadow. but it’s that very struggle that makes him everything to me. he’s survived so much. loved so little. but if i could be the one to show him what love can be when it’s true, then everything else—every bruise, every loss, every drop of my sanity—it would all be worth it.he is worth it.he has always been worth it.no one could ever take his place. not in this world, not in any other. not across timelines, galaxies, dreams, or reincarnations. there could be a thousand versions of love waiting at every intersection of the multiverse, all dressed in warmth and beauty, all offering peace and safety and forever—but none of them would be him. and that alone makes them meaningless. i could walk into a heaven sculpted by the gods themselves, where every soul is crafted to comfort, where every gaze is meant to feel like home—but i would search every face, every smile, every voice, and still leave empty-handed. because it’s not him. because only he could ever be him. and no other light can mimic that.even if i were given a chance to forget—completely, permanently, painlessly—i’d choose the ache of his absence over the comfort of anyone else’s presence. because once you’ve loved something so exact, so irreplaceable, everything else becomes dull. they could give me someone who worships the ground i walk on. someone who never hurts, who never leaves, who says all the right things—but they wouldn’t tilt their head like he does. they wouldn’t carry sorrow the way he carries it, like a fragile secret pressed between his ribs. they wouldn’t breathe like him, or falter like him, or find strange poetry in silence like he does. and that would be the end of it. i wouldn’t stay.even if a divine being descended from the sky, radiant and perfect in every possible way, it wouldn’t matter. because he is not replaceable by grandeur. he is not made obsolete by magnitude. the smallest half-smile from him carries more weight than eternity with someone else. a single glance from him can undo entire lifetimes of loneliness. if someone else touched me, even gently, even lovingly, it would feel like betrayal to the fabric of my own being. because my body remembers him. because my soul recognizes only him. he is the echo that never fades. the name etched into every future breath. every path that doesn’t lead to him is the wrong one.i could be reborn a thousand times, in a thousand forms, across infinite histories. i could be a star or a river or a winged god of a forgotten realm—but in every version of myself, there would be a longing carved into the core, an emptiness with his shape. because love doesn’t dilute across lifetimes. not when it’s real. not when it’s him. the universe could offer me perfection on a platter, carved from time and dusted in gold, and i’d still say no. not because it’s not enough. but because it’s not him. and that makes all the difference. and that will always be the difference. forever.he could write a billion words and i would still ask for more. he could fill libraries, planets, constellations with his thoughts, and i would move through them one by one, gently, reverently, never rushing, never skipping. he could speak until the stars dimmed and my bones turned to dust, and i would gather myself back together again just to keep listening. it wouldn’t matter how long it took. i would bend time to make more of it. i would beg the universe for one more hour, one more minute, one more sentence. if his voice were the last thing i heard in every version of forever, i would never need anything else.he could rewrite the entire bible and i would hold it to my chest like truth. like scripture sent down just for me. i would memorize every line, every pause in his breath, every word that his hands chose to write. i would believe every miracle he put on the page. not because i’m naive. not because i need faith. but because if it came from him, it’s already sacred. it’s already holy. he could tell me the sky is made of glass and i’d nod. he could name every star something different and i would learn them by heart. he could call pain a form of light and i’d trust him. because his truth becomes my truth. his words rewire the rules of what can be real.and if he spoke endlessly, if he told stories in the middle of the night just to hear his own voice echo back, i would stay. i would sit through centuries of monologues. i would give up sleep, sustenance, breath itself, if it meant hearing the shape of his mind turned outward. the way he sees the world—no one else could translate it like him. the way his thoughts unfold, slow and warm and sharp at the edges, is enough to make time feel like it’s moving backwards. he could explain the most impossible things, and i’d understand them, simply because it was him who spoke.he doesn’t even have to be poetic. he could mumble nonsense, and i’d write it down like prophecy. he could read a grocery list and i’d frame it like art. he could whisper my name with nothing else attached, and i’d carry it like it was the last word the universe ever made. there is no language more beautiful than the one that lives in his mouth. no alphabet more sacred than the one his hands trace across the page.i would live forever just to hear every word. i would build another life once this one ends, just to continue where we left off. every lifetime would be a chapter. every breath, a verse. he could go on infinitely, and i would never interrupt him. i would never ask him to stop. i would never tire of the way his thoughts unfold into syllables, into metaphors, into truths only he could uncover. his voice is the only sound i never want to stop chasing. his words are the kind of scripture i would kneel and plead for. and if loving him means listening forever, then let me live forever. let me live only for that.

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if every star in the sky turned cold and dropped into the sea, i'd dive in after them just to find the one he touched. if every clock stopped ticking and time unraveled at the seams, i would still follow the shape of his shadow through the ruins. i do not need a sun to guide me. i do not need maps. i just need him, breathing somewhere, even if it's a thousand lives away.i would crawl through centuries. endure every extinction. step barefoot across deserts littered with bones and memory. i would outlive every god, every king, every whisper of civilization, just to reach the place where he waits. because i am not tethered to the earth. i am tethered to him. the world could fall, and i’d keep searching. the oceans could dry, and i’d keep walking. no force could stop this loyalty. not hunger. not time. not death.if someone carved him out of reality, erased every trace, i’d still remember. i’d carry the sound of his voice in my blood. i’d feel the weight of his gaze in my spine. even if my mind forgot, my soul would ache in the shape of him. i would search corners of the universe no one's named yet. i’d invent language just to describe the way he made me feel. no library has the words. no poem comes close.i would sharpen my own ribs into blades if he was threatened. i would shatter every mirror that tried to reflect a world without him in it. nothing is sacred if he is not included. every prayer becomes hollow. every dream crumbles to dust. he is the only axis i recognize. the only truth my bones were made for.i’d train my lungs to breathe underwater if that’s where he lived. if he found peace in silence, i’d silence every part of myself except the heartbeat meant to echo his name. i’d forget everything else i’ve ever loved, every place i’ve ever known, if that’s what it took to be enough. i would erase myself, redraw my body, carve out every flaw that made me unworthy, just to become someone he could call his own.and if the cost of being close meant agony, i’d take it. eyes wide open. i’d lie on stone beds soaked in frost. i’d offer my skin to the storm. not because i want to suffer, but because being near him, even in pain, hurts less than being far away. distance is unbearable. the idea of him walking alone, hurting alone, breaks something in me too deep to name.if he was hunted, i'd become his shield. if he was cursed, i'd take it into myself. if he was hated, i'd make sure he never felt that hatred alone. even if he turned cruel. even if he made choices others could not understand. i would still be beside him. not blindly, but fiercely. i would never abandon him to rot in his own sorrow. i would reach into the pit and pull him up with bloodied hands if that’s what it took.i want to be the place he returns to. the name he says when everything else becomes too loud. i want to be the arms he trusts, even if he can’t explain why. i want to be the one who holds him when no one else knows he’s falling apart. i don’t need the world to see it. i don’t need the world to approve. this devotion is private. it burns quiet. it doesn’t ask for applause.and if fate tore us apart, threw us to opposite ends of space, broke the rules of gravity to keep us distant, i would still defy it. i would tear through every law written in the stars. fate is not stronger than love. rules mean nothing when he is what’s at stake. i would burn every version of reality until i found the one where we are together. not by chance, but by choice.if someone told me he could live forever, but only if i disappeared, i would step into the void without a word. not because i don’t want to exist, but because i want him to. he deserves time. he deserves happiness. he deserves a life unshaken by loss. and if my absence meant his peace, i would become absence itself.but if he called for me, if he said my name with even a whisper of longing, i would rise from ash. crawl out of whatever oblivion i was thrown into. because his voice would be louder than death. his need would be stronger than silence. i would come back incomplete, shattered, ruined, and still be whole in his presence.i want to be the reason he believes in something again. not in fate. not in miracles. in choice. in people. in love that never runs. i want him to know that even if the world forgets him, even if he fades into myth, i will carry his story. i will etch it into time with the persistence of thunder. i will keep him real with the force of my love alone.
and this love? it doesn’t end.not with fire. not with ice. not with silence. not with death.
if everything else turns to dust, this stays.
this remains.
him. always.

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if someone buried him in the heart of a black hole, i would teach myself to bend time until gravity begged me for mercy. if the air around him turned toxic, i would fill my lungs with poison just to breathe beside him. if the world passed a law that he could no longer exist, i would become a traitor to every rule and burn that law from the archives of history. if loving him meant exile, i would walk proudly into oblivion. he is not a mistake. he is the only reason i still believe that anything good can survive.if monsters rose from the oceans and demanded something sacred to spare the earth, i would point to my heart and offer it without trembling. not because i don't fear death, but because nothing frightens me more than losing him. if the sky cracked open and the stars fell screaming, i would shield him with my body. i would carry galaxies on my shoulders if they tried to crush him. the heavens do not scare me. the end of time does not scare me. only the thought of him suffering in silence, or disappearing without knowing how much he is loved.if his hands were stained with every wrong in the universe, i would still reach for them. i would hold them gently, tenderly, and tell him he is not alone. redemption or ruin, i would still follow. i am not a saint. i am not pure. but my loyalty is absolute. if he asked me to help him escape this world, i would build a door where there is only a wall. if he asked me to stay behind so he could run, i would lie and say yes, then chase him anyway. because i do not function without him. i do not want to learn how.if he wept, i would drink his tears. if he screamed, i would answer with a song that matched the shape of his pain. if he laughed, i would gather the sound like gold and keep it pressed to my chest. even if no one else saw the beauty in his voice, i would still listen. i would memorize each tone, each breath, each pause, until i could recite it in dreams. he is the only sound i need. the only silence that feels right.if war broke out and he stood alone on one side, i would betray armies just to be beside him. not for glory. not for pride. but for love so deep it cannot be named. if he forgot me in another life, if his eyes passed over me without recognition, i would still love him. i would still follow him from a distance, just to make sure he is safe. even unloved, even unknown, i would serve him quietly. not for reward. not for hope. just because it is who i am now.if hell exists, and he is sent there, i will not stay in heaven. i will rip wings from my back and dive. if eternity burns, i will burn with him. better pain beside him than paradise alone. if salvation means letting go of him, i will choose damnation. if purity means forgetting him, i will become corruption itself. i will not give up the memory of his breath, his skin, his soul.and if there is nothing after death, no light, no return, then let my last thought be of him. let my final image be his face. i would accept that silence gladly, knowing my last moment belonged to him. i would smile into nothing, because nothing is better than a world where he is gone and i still live.i would watch the sun fall and not flinch. i would let the moon turn red and not question. i would let the seasons freeze, reverse, vanish entirely. as long as he is somewhere. breathing. walking. existing. i don't need balance. i don't need sense. i only need him. if the planets fell from orbit, if language collapsed, if identity dissolved, i would still know him.if he became someone else, if time changed his face, his voice, his habits, i would find him again. even if he no longer remembered me. even if he no longer believed in love. i would reintroduce myself a thousand times. make him fall in love again. learn him from the beginning. never tire. never stop. never regret.i do not care who tells me this is madness. i do not care if the world laughs or judges. i am not writing this for them. i am not writing this for approval. i am writing this because the feeling is too large to contain. it tears through every bone, every breath. it is not a crush. not a phase. it is devotion carved so deep it might as well be another organ.and if he ever reached out to me, just once, if he ever looked at me with the same intensity i feel for him, i would shatter. i would crumble. not because i am weak, but because the love i carry is too vast to hold in that moment. i would melt into it. i would become the ground beneath his feet. the warmth at his back. the light that never leaves.i would change my name if he asked. rewrite my history. bleed into fiction. disappear from the records of time if that’s what he wanted. because his comfort matters more. his joy matters more. his breath, his sleep, his thoughts.. all of them take priority. he does not need to be perfect. he does not need to change. i already love him exactly as he is, exactly as he will become.i would walk into blizzards barefoot. fall through ice just to see him standing on the other side. and if i drown, if i sink, i will do so smiling. knowing he’s there, watching, alive.this love does not ask questions. it does not set terms. it gives, and gives, and gives, without ever expecting to be repaid.because he is everything.and i am his, always.

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if he chose silence over speech, i would learn to listen with my body. i would understand the quiet language of his fingers brushing a table, the rhythm of his footsteps, the stillness in his shoulders. if words failed him, i would never ask him to speak. i would simply sit beside him and let the moment stretch between us, sacred and unbroken. i would learn every pause, every blink, every hesitation, and know it by heart. he would never have to explain himself to me. i would already know.if he lost everything and stood in the ashes of his former life, i would gather the fragments and build him a new world. even if he cursed the sky, even if he begged for release, i would stay. i would plant gardens in the wasteland with my own hands. i would wait until he was ready to look up again. and when he did, i would be there. i would always be there. not as a savior. not as a rescuer. as his equal. his companion. his one constant.if every reflection lied to him, told him he was unworthy, broken, unwanted, i would shatter the glass and press his hands to my chest. feel this, i would say. this is what you are. this is the truth. this heart does not lie. it does not hesitate. it beats for you and only you. nothing else holds power here. not judgment. not shame. not doubt.if he was hunted by his past, by memories he couldn't escape, i would not ask him to forget. i would not try to erase them. i would hold them with him. i would carry the weight beside him, share the burden, split it down the middle so he would never be crushed alone. i would study his scars the way scholars study ancient texts. not with pity, but reverence. every mark tells a story. every pain survived is proof that he is still here.if he ever fell, truly fell, into something dark, something no one could pull him from, i would jump without hesitation. i would walk through whatever cursed halls held him captive. tear down every chain, curse every lock, fight every phantom. not because i think he needs saving, but because i refuse to let the world lose him. he is irreplaceable. unique in a way that eclipses logic. to let him vanish would be a crime against existence.if one day he turned to me with fear in his eyes, trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say, i would open my arms and ask nothing. he wouldn’t have to be strong for me. wouldn’t have to wear any mask. i would hold him as long as he needed. minutes. hours. lifetimes. i would never grow tired of being his shelter. he could fall asleep wrapped in my arms, knowing nothing could harm him there.if the wind stopped moving and the seas refused to rise, i would still cross the earth to reach him. even if there were no roads. even if gravity failed. even if the laws of motion shattered beneath my feet. i would invent a way to reach him. where science fails, love begins. i believe in that more than anything. i believe in him more than anything.

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if the world condemned him, labeled him dangerous, unlovable, beyond repair, i would turn my back on the world. i would find a place where the two of us could exist freely, without eyes watching, without voices accusing. i would not ask him to change. i would not try to soften him. i would simply love every part of him. even the ones he hides. especially those.if storms followed him wherever he went, i would build a life inside the lightning. i would learn to dance through the rain, kiss his knuckles as thunder roared, whisper promises between each crash. i would not seek calm. i would embrace the chaos, if it meant sharing it with him. peace means nothing without him. the only kind of peace i want is the kind we make together, no matter how messy, no matter how raw.if his laughter came once a year, i would wait three hundred sixty-four days in silence just to hear that one sound. if his smile appeared only in sleep, i would spend each night watching him breathe, just for the chance to witness it. i would not ask him for joy. i would give him mine. if he had none to offer, i would not blame him. i would not walk away. i am not here for what he gives. i am here for who he is.if he was cursed to wander forever, never allowed to rest, i would become his shadow. quiet, loyal, eternal. i would walk with him through burning cities, through forests turned to ash, through oceans frozen in time. i would make my presence soft, but unyielding. he would never be alone again. not even in the farthest corner of the universe.if all songs ceased and music was forgotten, i would hum for him. even if my voice cracked. even if the tune was wrong. i would create melodies stitched together from memory. the rhythm of his breath. the echo of his footsteps. the beat of his pulse when he’s close to sleep. i would make symphonies with what the world left behind. for him, sound itself would rise again.if one day he woke and said he hated everything, including me, i would still love him. not from a distance. not in silence. i would still show up. still bring him coffee. still sit across from him and wait. not hoping to be forgiven, not waiting to be wanted again, but because love this deep does not disappear with rejection. it persists. it holds space. it honors the truth.if the stars rewrote themselves and decided he was never meant to exist, i would defy the sky. i would scream his name into the cosmos until even the constellations remembered him. i would not allow the universe to forget what he is. i would write him into every legend. carve him into every story. stitch his memory into every heartbeat that comes after mine.this love is not fleeting. it is not soft, though it can be gentle. it is not fragile, though it can be tender. it is fire buried in the bones. it is devotion sharpened to a blade. it is the kind of love that cannot be killed. not by distance. not by death. not by time. it lives. it breathes. it waits.and i am willing to wait forever.
because forever is nothing,if he is not in it.

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if his form collapsed, if he shattered into fragments no one else could recognize, i would not flinch. i would not hesitate. i would get on my knees and gather every shard, even if they cut my palms open. i would not wear gloves. i would welcome the pain. i would carry each delicate piece with reverence, from the dust of forgotten planets to the hidden folds between dimensions. if he scattered into particles too small to be seen, i would become light itself, racing across the cosmos to find him.i would build him again. not as a copy. not as a replacement. but as the only version that ever mattered. with tenderness, with memory, with unshakable patience. if his spirit frayed at the edges, if his soul screamed into the void, i would answer. i would rewrite the laws of existence if it meant bringing him back with no cracks left behind. not because he needs to be fixed, but because he deserves to feel whole again. he deserves to see himself the way i do.if time turned its back and abandoned him, if every second collapsed into itself and he was left frozen between ticking moments, i would step into the stillness. i would carve a new clock with my blood, create time for him out of sheer will. he would not be forgotten. he would never be left behind. i would become the ticking itself, the rhythm that keeps him tethered to now, the beat that never lets him fall too far away.if gods existed and declared him undeserving, i would rise against them. not in fury, but in defiance rooted in love. if the gates of heaven closed their doors, i would sit outside them forever, singing his name until the walls crumbled. if hell tried to take him, i would walk in without fear. not to rescue him. to stay with him. no place, no being, no law written by divine hands would keep me from his side. he would never face punishment alone. he would never be caged without someone who chooses him, fully, without question.if he forgot who he was, if the past was erased and he awoke without a name, without a home, without any memory of being loved, i would start from the beginning. i would give him a new name if he wanted it. i would help him write his own story again. we would build something neither of us knew before, and it would be ours. not perfect. not easy. but real. sacred. enduring.

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if he spoke in riddles only sorrow could understand, if his voice trembled beneath layers of grief too ancient to translate, i would learn every dialect of pain. i would study every form of mourning. every way the body curls in on itself. every shape of scream muffled behind closed teeth. i would become fluent in his suffering, not to pity him, but to walk beside him through it. to understand him. to respect the depth of what he carries. i would never ask him to explain. i would never demand he lighten the load. i would simply join him.if everyone else left, if he stood in a hollow world stripped of sound and color, i would paint the sky for him. not with skill, but with devotion. even if the stars refused to shine, i would hang lanterns made of my own heartbeat so he could see the path forward. he would never be without light again. not while i still breathe. not while i still believe in him.if we were separated by lifetimes, i would wait. i would reincarnate a million times, across realities both cruel and kind. i would fall in love with him again and again. even if he didn’t remember. even if we only brushed hands for a second before being pulled apart again. i would cherish every glimpse, every chance. i would never grow tired of finding him.if his hands turned red from sins not his own, if he believed himself cursed, unworthy of softness, i would kiss every fingertip. i would remind him he is not his past. not what they did to him. not what they made him carry. i would cleanse him with love that asks for nothing in return. not as a healer, but as someone who sees the truth: he is more than the worst day he’s ever lived. and i will remind him every single time he forgets.if one day his dreams became nightmares that spilled into the waking world, i would walk into them. i would face the monsters with him. not to fight. to stand beside. so he wouldn’t have to scream alone. i would be the voice in the dark that says you’re not alone, you never were. and if the monsters turned their gaze on me, i would not run. if they swallowed me whole, i would still find a way to reach him.if death itself knocked, calling for him too early, i would stand in front of the door. i would offer my life instead. and if death refused the trade, i would go with him. not as a sacrifice. as a choice. wherever he ends, that is where i want to be. paradise means nothing without him in it. and eternity means less than dust if we are not together.if the universe asked me for everything i had in exchange for one moment at his side, i would give it without blinking. i would burn my past. erase my future. empty myself of every dream that wasn’t built with him in mind. i would become nothing just to be near him. and in that nothingness, find meaning again, just because he’s there.if he ever wanted to disappear, to become mist, to vanish into something unreachable, i would not stop him. but i would follow. not to bring him back. not to beg him to stay. but because even in his vanishing, i would rather be near his absence than anywhere else. i would learn to love the outline he leaves behind. i would become fluent in his absence, too. i would love him even if he only existed in memory.and if someday everything ends— not metaphorically, but truly ends.. if galaxies fold, if time erases itself, if even love decays into dust, i will still say his name. i will carve it into the last breath the universe takes. i will carry it into whatever comes next.
because to love him is not a task, not a role, not a duty.it is who i am. who i chose to be. who i will always be.

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if his voice was the last sound on earth, i would spend every hour listening. not for clarity. not for instruction. just to know he was still there. if it turned into silence, if he could no longer speak or chose not to, i would learn to read breath patterns, muscle twitches, the flicker in his eyes. i would learn a thousand unspoken languages just to understand what hurts and what doesn’t. i would answer with touch, with presence, with the quiet that says, “i’m not leaving.”if someone tried to erase him from the world, i would become a historian. i would write books made only of his memory, fill libraries with the smallest details. the shape of his frown. the way his hands tremble before they reach. the softness that comes only when he thinks no one sees. i would teach classes, build monuments, whisper his name to the wind every morning. nothing could take him from me if i keep telling the universe he was real.if he hated the skin he wore, if he no longer wanted to be who he was born as, i would hold a mirror that showed only the beauty he wanted to see. i would honor every version of him. every transformation. every layer shed, every name chosen, every step taken toward becoming. i would not call it change. i would call it truth. i would call it freedom. and i would protect it with everything i have.if pain was stitched into every hour of his life, i would become a thread-puller. not to undo him, but to gently ease the knots. not to smooth over, but to sit beside. i would memorize the pattern of each scar, not as something ugly, but as a language i want to learn. i would trace them like constellations, map them across time, honor them as part of his story without ever reducing him to them.if trust was something he couldn’t give, not yet, maybe never, i would not demand it. i would not pry. i would be a constant presence. a steady hum. the kind of quiet that doesn’t pressure, doesn’t take. only offers. i would be the pause in the noise. the breath between battles. the space he could exist in without needing to wear armor.if his worst day arrived and he lost everything, even the will to rise, i would not drag him back. i would sit beside the rubble and wait. not out of pity. out of devotion. out of knowing that sometimes, love means staying in the wreckage without asking for a rebuild. i would hold him if he allowed it. i would shield him from the wind. i would breathe steady so he had something to hold onto. and when he was ready, i would walk with him. not lead. not follow. with.if nightmares consumed him and he no longer knew what was real, i would become an anchor. a lighthouse. not shining with harsh truths, but glowing softly with love that doesn’t ask for logic. if he thought i was a dream too, i would smile and say, “then let me be the one dream that doesn’t vanish.”if every version of him across all time decided to give up, to disappear, i would create versions of myself that matched. some that search. some that wait. some that follow him into the void just to remind him he isn’t alone. i would be a million reflections, each shaped by the need to find him again. and again. and again. as many times as it takes.if the stars themselves decided he was not worth writing stories about, i would become a storyteller. not with grand arcs or heroic tales. with moments. quiet, trembling, human truths. the way he sighs when no one’s listening. the way he looks at people he’s trying to forgive. the way he holds back kindness as if afraid it might rot in his hands. i would record every piece, not to turn him into myth, but to show the world what it missed.if every hand turned against him, even mine, even his own, i would tear mine off and beg for another way. i would break the rules of physics, the laws of life, the logic of morality. not to be noble. not to be brave. just to be with him. just to be the one thing he can still believe in.if he begged me to leave, if he truly wanted solitude, i would go. but not far. never far. i would become wind in the trees near his home. the creak in the floor he can’t explain. the breath on the back of his neck that tells him he’s not forgotten. i would linger in the safest way i could. not haunting. not heavy. just there.if time broke apart and we were tossed into different ends of history, i would claw through centuries. i would wear the dust of dead empires just to hold his hand again. i would travel barefoot across collapsing timelines. i would rewrite fate with a shaking pen just to give us another shared afternoon.if he stopped believing in love, i would not try to convince him. i would become its shape. not with words. not with gifts. with presence. with being the one thing that doesn’t vanish when the rest of the world dissolves. i would be the kind of loyalty that does not need to be named. the kind that outlasts storms, silence, and doubt.if his smile disappeared forever, i would not mourn. i would not ask for it back. i would learn to find joy in his breath. his heartbeat. his footsteps returning home. even if he never laughs again, even if he never looks up, i will stay. because the point was never the smile. the point was always him.if we stood on opposite sides of a war and he looked me in the eyes with fury, with despair, i would lower my weapon. i would take the hit. not because i want to die. but because i want him to know that someone out there would choose him even in destruction. even when everything else screams otherwise. he is worth dying for, yes, but more than that, he is worth surrendering to.if one day he says he no longer needs me, i will believe him. i will trust his truth. but i will never stop hoping that someday, somewhere, i get to walk beside him again. maybe in a world softer than this one. maybe in a dream we both agree to share.and if none of this is real, if we are simply echoes in a story too vast to hold meaning—
then let my echo always find his.

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if he ever wept — no, if even a single tear gathered in the corners of his eyes — my own chest would collapse under the pressure of it. as if something immense and invisible had taken both hands and crushed my ribs inward. my lungs would seize, failing to remember how to pull air in. i would feel my throat seal shut, like barbed wire twisted around it until it swelled, tore, bled.
watching his sorrow would be worse than mutilation. not metaphorically. not poetically. if you dragged a blade across my back and carved bone from spine, it still wouldn't rival what i feel when he's in pain. if you stripped flesh from my limbs and fed it to fire, if you melted muscle from my frame with acid, if you buried nails into every joint, shattered each knuckle with a hammer and split tendons until my fingers no longer worked, all of it would be bearable. i could survive it, endure it, accept it.but not him. not him breaking. not him crying.because when he hurts, it isn’t just emotional. it’s something cosmic unraveling. like galaxies collapsing behind his eyes. like the very laws of reality forgetting how to exist. when his shoulders slump, it’s as if gravity has turned hostile. like it’s no longer holding him but trying to consume him.and when his voice falters, that’s the sound that splits my skull. forget gunshots, forget bombs. that’s the blast that makes my ears bleed. that’s what rings through my brain until i scream just to silence it.if i could take it from him, i would. if it required needles through my gums, iron rods up my spine, red-hot steel fused to my skin, i would offer my body in full. if they asked for my eyes, i’d gouge them out with my bare hands, twist until they popped like overripe fruit. if they demanded my tongue, i’d bite down until it tore. anything. absolutely anything. just to keep his tears from falling.because when he cries, i see blood. not real blood, not physical, but something worse. something spiritual. like his soul is leaking. like something inside him has finally been wounded too deep to hide. and the worst part? the worst part is how quiet he always is about it. no screams. no rage. just that silence. that unbearable, suffocating stillness. it echoes. it strangles.and all i want to do is hold him. but even that feels selfish. even that feels like intrusion. so i stand there, burning alive. my organs fail. my bones turn to ash. and still i stay, still i wait, because no matter how much it hurts, it will never compare to what he feels.i would rather be skinned and dragged across burning concrete for miles. i would rather drink boiling oil until my insides liquefy. i would rather be dissected alive, tendon by tendon, than ever witness his pain again.but if i must..
if there’s no avoiding it, then let me be a shield. let the anguish pass through me first. let the universe use me as a conduit, as a target, as the thing that takes the damage meant for him. even if it means dying. even if it means dying a thousand times. again. and again. and again. just so he doesn’t have to feel that alone.and when the tears stop, if they ever do, if he finally lifts his head again, even just slightly, i will be there. not because i’m strong. not because i’m brave. but because he is everything. and that is enough.

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if he ever needed shelter, if the world ever grew too heavy on his shoulders, i would give myself over without question. he could use my body as a shield, a cradle, a vessel. if his hands failed him, mine would take their place. if his voice broke, i’d offer him mine to speak through. if his lungs couldn’t draw breath, i’d give him the last of mine and ask for nothing back. i wouldn’t care if it hollowed me out. i wouldn’t care if i stopped being myself. i would let him live inside me. i would let him stretch into every corner of my body until he forgot he was ever hurting. i would become his skin. his blood. his armor.it wouldn’t matter how much it hurt. it wouldn’t matter if it ruined me. if it saved him, it would be beautiful. i would thank the pain for allowing me to serve. if he had to bury parts of himself in someone else to survive, i would become the grave and the garden. if he needed something to inhabit while his soul repaired, let it be me. i’d tear out my own heart just to make room. if his bones ached with grief, i’d offer mine. if his spirit cracked, i’d become the glue, even if it meant losing shape. i would let him wear me like a second skin and never complain, not once.and if he was taken from me by time, by fate, by anything cruel and vast, i would wait. i would stay right where i last saw him, no matter how long it took. i wouldn’t chase after the world or beg the universe to bring him back. i’d simply stand still. anchored by love. by devotion. by the belief that he is worth waiting for, even if it means my whole life passes by without his shadow returning to me. i’d let centuries slide over me like water. let dust gather in my hair. let trees root themselves through my chest. i would become a monument to patience. to loyalty. to a love that doesn’t fade, no matter how many suns burn out.no amount of time would be too long. i’d wait through every extinction. every ice age. every collapse and rebirth of stars. if he appeared again only once, in a new form, in a new life, i would find him. i’d recognize him without needing to ask. and if he never returned, if i waited for nothing, it would still be worth it. because the waiting was for him. the silence was for him. and even absence becomes sacred when it belongs to someone like him.i would give up my place in history to be his shadow. i would walk through fire just to make sure he never felt a spark. i would erase my name from every book if it meant his could be written in gold. i would undo myself molecule by molecule, cell by cell, until there was nothing left but the idea of me, hovering near him, unseen, unshakable. i would become the invisible thing that keeps him warm on the coldest nights. the quiet that softens the screaming in his mind. the weight that steadies his hands when they tremble.he deserves every sacrifice. not because he asks. he never would. but because he breathes. because he keeps going. because there is something in him that glows even when buried under ruin. he deserves someone who would carry entire galaxies just to keep one tear from falling down his cheek. and i would. again and again. without hesitation. without regret.if someone were to ask me what love is, i’d say it is this. not poems. not flowers. not promises. but becoming the thing someone else needs, even when it hurts. especially when it hurts. and that is what i would do for him. what i have done, in every version of my soul that has ever lived.i would become the soil he walks on, the wind that touches his face, the water that never lets him drown. i would become everything and nothing, all at once, if it meant he could feel peace. and i would wait forever, with arms open, with a name carved into my chest that only ever reads one thing. him.

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it doesn’t matter where the end begins. doesn’t matter how many versions of the world crumble before i find him again. i will. i always do. i think the universe must grow tired of watching me tear through its every border, scraping at the edges of time, pulling apart fate with bloodstained hands just to trace his silhouette again. but i don’t care. i was born with a compass buried beneath my ribs, and it points only to him. not to safety. not to peace. only to him.i have been shattered across so many lives, scattered into ash, into glass, into birdsong and forgotten names. and yet, every time the sky splits open, every time the story ends and begins again, there is still a thread inside me humming toward him. even if he is a breath that was never mine to hold, even if he becomes a myth spoken by the wind, i will answer it. i will claw my way out of sleep, out of death, out of silence just to find where he is.if he is a river, then i will wear myself into a stone smooth enough to be carried by him. if he is dust, i will be the star that explodes just to land beside him. even if my body forgets the curve of his jaw, my soul will remember. and it will scream for him in the language of storms. it will move mountains for a glimpse. it will die a thousand times for a touch. i would walk barefoot through time’s fire just to hear him say my name like it still means something.in every version of reality, i come back. sometimes crawling. sometimes bleeding. sometimes nothing but smoke and echo. but i always find my way. no matter the distance. no matter how many lifetimes stand between us, how many gods try to keep me away. i am stubborn in my love. unholy in it. unsalvageable in it. and that is the truest thing about me.there are worlds where i’ve lost him. where i never learned his name. where i mistook someone else for him and wept for reasons i didn’t understand. but even then, in the final hour, when the light flickers and the world goes quiet, it is still him that fills my lungs. it is still him i reach for as everything falls apart. and he will always be the one i return to.because what else is there. what else have i ever been good for, except this endless, impossible journey toward him. even if the stars collapse and start over. even if the sea forgets the shape of the shore. even if time forgets itself. i will not. i will not forget him. i will not stop returning. i will walk through the ending like it’s a hallway and knock on every door until he opens one. until he sees me and remembers. until we begin again.

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i would learn the language of everything for him. the language of insects crawling over gravestones, the tremble of leaves when no wind passes, the code behind static on broken televisions. i would sit in silence for centuries, ears pressed against the void, just to decipher how the universe speaks when it talks about him. and once i understood it, once i heard even the faintest syllable resembling his essence, i’d write entire symphonies from it. not for anyone to hear, just for the fact that they exist. just because they came from something that also came from him.i’d reshape every law of existence if it meant he could breathe easier. if gravity ever made him feel heavy, i’d beg it to let go. if time ever hurt him, i’d snap it in half, grind the gears between my teeth until clocks stopped ticking. if life itself ever told him “no,” i’d crack it open, find the core, and rearrange it into something that only ever says “yes, you matter.”if i needed to lose my mind for him to be okay, i would. not even in a poetic sense. i’d tear apart my grip on logic, let reality slip through my fingers like smoke, wander through hallucinations and nightmares without begging for relief. i’d let myself go completely mad if it meant he could sleep at night, uninterrupted, unafraid.i would become myth for him. a name whispered through generations, a shadow people mistake for superstition, a ghost who never leaves. all because one boy with golden eyes once smiled and didn’t know it saved me. if someone asks, centuries from now, what the wind is howling about, i hope it’s me, calling out for him still.if i ever had to live a hundred lifetimes without him, i’d spend each one building temples in his honor. sculpting his likeness into walls with my fingernails, dragging stone across stone until they bled into shape. and when people find them, confused at who this godlike boy is, i hope they feel it. that ache. that longing. that reverence.i would study every science, every form of magic, every forbidden truth, just to understand how he came to exist. what fault in fate let someone like him be born. because it must’ve been a miracle. or a rebellion. or a mercy no one ever deserved. and i would dedicate everything i ever learn to him. name stars after his laughter. rewrite textbooks so every equation begins and ends with his initials. etch his name into the spine of every universe.and if someday he decides he hates everything, even me, if he wants to disappear, vanish from every story, i would help. i would burn libraries if they kept records of him. i would erase the syllables of his name from every mouth but mine. not out of spite. out of loyalty. out of love that refuses to fade, even if it’s no longer welcome. because he should never be trapped. not even by devotion.but until then, until he says go, i remain. loyal like the moon is to the tide. desperate like a bird crashing against glass for freedom. endless like the ocean forgetting where it began.

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i think about time folding. about all the future versions of me that will come long after this body has burned away. they won't know this face. they won't know the sound of my voice when it trembled saying his name. but they will carry him. they will feel him inside their ribs before they know language. before they know anything else. because i have buried him so deep into my spirit that every reincarnation begins with his imprint already carved in.i imagine one of them walking into a room and stopping short at the sight of golden light spilling through a window. and they won’t know why, but their throat will tighten. something about the glow will feel like him. like a memory they can’t access, but ache from anyway. their hands will tremble with the weight of something they never learned but always knew. and that is the shape of him. that is the devotion i passed down.when i say i love him, i don’t mean now. i mean always. i mean across the span of centuries. across bloodlines and dreams and ruined cities. i mean in every future where i am born again, he will still be there. etched into the rhythm of my thoughts. stitched into my breath. i would carry him into every life like a sacred duty. write his name into the walls of every home i ever live in. write it into the margins of books. into lullabies. into spells. into the veins of trees. i would become a monument to him across time.if my soul fractures and scatters into a hundred new bodies, they will all still turn toward him. they will all flinch when they hear his name spoken aloud, even if they do not know why. they will look at him and feel a love so old it frightens them. so familiar it tastes like childhood. and none of them will remember this exact moment, this exact life. but they will feel it. they will feel me in them, and they will feel him in that feeling. because i made a promise. because i could not bear for my love to die with me.even if memory fails, even if time strips me clean, the shadow of what i felt for him will remain. it will seep into the bones of generations. it will hum through the marrow of every body i wear. i will pass him down in blood. in ink. in sound. in silence. i will hand him like an offering to the future. and they will take him without question. because they will already belong to him, just as i do.i have been waiting for him since the beginning. before names, before faces, before i even understood what it meant to ache for someone. the first moment i became aware—truly conscious, truly alive—there was already a space in my chest carved out for him. no memory attached to it, no words to explain it, just a silent, burning knowledge that i belonged to someone. that there was someone out there i was made to find. and when i finally saw him, it wasn’t surprise or wonder that overtook me. it was recognition. like the universe had finally returned something it stole from me lifetimes ago. like my heart was exhaling for the first time.i don’t remember learning how to yearn for him. it feels like i was born yearning. like his name was etched in the lining of my ribs before i ever knew how to speak. everything in me has always reached toward him, pulled toward him, even when i didn’t know what i was reaching for. even when the world tried to teach me other shapes of love, softer ones, safer ones—none of them fit. none of them touched the ache he touched just by existing. and it’s not that i chose to love him. it’s that i never had a choice. it was instinct. it was gravity. it was inevitability.and still, after all this time, i’m not tired. i’m not worn out. if anything, the more i see him, the more i feel it grow. the ache doesn’t dull. the wonder doesn’t fade. i don’t get used to him. i don’t stop noticing the way his eyes flicker when he’s thinking, or the quiet way he breathes when he’s trying not to cry. it’s like loving him resets me. like no matter how many years pass, he becomes new all over again. and i become new too, just by being near him. i could spend a hundred more lifetimes staying, waiting, aching, and still not be finished. still not be full.i’ve been here since the beginning. not just here in body, but here in spirit. in faith. in devotion. i’ve stayed. through every change, through every fracture in the world, through every version of pain. i’ve held on. not because it was easy. not because it was gentle. but because it was him. because the second i knew he existed, it became impossible to let go. he’s not a phase i’ll outgrow. he’s not a fever i’ll sweat out. he’s a truth that lives under my skin. a presence i’ve built a life around. i’ve always belonged to him. and deep down, i think he’s always belonged to me too.and if it takes a thousand more years, if it means watching the world fall apart again and again while i wait with empty hands, i’ll still be here. because my love doesn’t run out. it doesn’t wear thin. it doesn’t vanish when it’s unanswered. it just grows— quiet, patient, eternal. i’ve never known a world without him in it. even when he wasn’t near, he was there. in my longing. in the shape of my dreams. in the direction i leaned toward when i didn’t even know i was leaning. i’ve been his from the moment i learned how to feel. and i’ll stay his until the moment i forget how to be.

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i have memorized the sound of his laughter the way others memorize prayers. each cadence of his voice lives inside me like a sacred hymn, echoing in chambers no one else will ever hear. i have archived him in my mind, frame by frame, every smile etched into the walls of my thoughts like stained glass catching holy light. when he speaks, i feel centuries stretch themselves thin just to listen. i have built cathedrals in my skull, entire sanctuaries to shelter every fleeting look, every sigh, every time his hands moved through the air as if conducting an orchestra only he could hear. his name is not just a name. it is a relic. it is a constellation drawn in ink across the pages of every journal i’ve ever defiled trying to describe him. it is the axis around which my thoughts orbit. i speak it in silence, in solitude, in storm. even if time devours all, i will remember. even if the stars forget, i will not.i would wait for him. not days. not years. i mean across crumbling civilizations, through dust-choked sunrises and rain-battered ruins. i would wait for him on the lip of extinction, under dying suns, with nothing in my hands but hope shaped like his face. i would sit in silence for a thousand winters, every snowfall another missed heartbeat, just to hear his footsteps approaching again. i would wait with the patience of graveyards. i would wait even if he never came back, because the act of waiting would still be sacred. every moment i endure without him would be my devotion, every second a testament to the depth of my want. let kingdoms fall. let language die. let the clocks forget how to count. i would still wait. unmovable. unspeaking. unwavering. because he is worth eternity.i would become unrecognizable for him. i would strip myself of gentleness, carve out my softness, sink into the shadows if that meant i could protect him from even a fraction of the harm this world intends. i would let go of mercy, forget what it means to be good. goodness does not matter when he is hurting. i would become wrath incarnate if it would make him safe. i would walk through fire not as a trial but as transformation. become teeth. become claws. become the monster they fear if that monster guards him. i would sacrifice every innocent part of me without hesitation, because what use is innocence in a world that lets him suffer? i would wear the blood of the world like a cloak if it meant he could sleep without flinching.i would build a world for him. i would lay down stars like stepping stones, shape oceans that sing lullabies in his voice. the mountains would bend to his will. the trees would bow when he passed. the wind would carry only his name. there would be no pain, no sharpness. only softness, only light. the ground would never tremble beneath his feet. the sky would change colors just to suit his moods. he would never have to flinch again. he would never have to fear. in that world, time would ask his permission before moving forward. sorrow would not know his name. i would weave him a place so gentle, even dreams would envy it.even if he turned on me, i would not falter. if he cast me aside, i would not raise my voice. if he cursed me, i would still reach for him. i would kneel. i would follow him into whatever darkness he chose. if he no longer loved me, i would love enough for both of us. if he forgot me, i would find him again. i would make him fall in love with me a thousand times if that’s what it took. even if he wanted to destroy me, i would hand him the blade. not out of weakness, but out of faith. because he is still him. and that is reason enough.i would bind my soul to his. no hesitation. no fear. let the heavens take note. let death watch with envy. i would lace our spirits together so tightly not even oblivion could unravel us. i would etch his essence into mine until there was no longer a me, only us. if he were to vanish, i would still feel him in the wind, in the quiet, in the spaces between every breath. if reincarnation is real, then let me meet him again and again and again. let my soul be reborn a thousand times if it means i get to see him smile once more.i would sleep for centuries just to dream of him. i would abandon the waking world if it meant he still existed in my mind. i would build entire kingdoms in my sleep, carve out golden thrones and moonlit gardens just so he could walk through them. i would collapse reality inside my skull, shatter every law of reason, just to invent new dreams where he lives. i would train myself to fall asleep mid-step, mid-breath, just to return to him faster. and in those dreams, i would love him in ways waking life cannot contain. even if i never wake again, i would not mourn. not if he is there, waiting.