“i love you. thorns and all."
Before Enkidu, love intertwined with pleasure. The difference was never clear cut, never concrete. There wasn’t anyone or anything to solely pour out love to, only receiving pleasure, and taking pleasure in the act itself. I would then say I loved such an act; I loved my status, my glory, my battle spoils and my wine. This love was easy to proclaim, an absolution I had, an opinion that was fact, something I was confident in saying. I realized, though, as I sparred with Enkidu, my blade meeting their chains and vice versa, our foreheads hitting and eyes piercing into the others, that there existed another kind of love, one that would creep up on you without warning and seize your heart and lungs, restricting your breath, and making your limbs tremble. It was a love that instilled fear; I hadn’t been given a reason to know such a thing beforehand. And although I would usually turn away this foreign and uncomfortable intrusion, it only took one look, one glance, before I was thrown back into this never-ending cycle. With this love came conflict and pain. Jealousy, perhaps, and a reason to fear an aftermath. I was exposed to what limitations I had, what I wasn’t given. I became even more selfish than before, wanting more and more, though the journeys I traveled on felt more satisfying when having Enkidu at my side. There wasn’t a day that would pass where I didn’t feel grateful for the setting sun, anticipating its rise, with Enkidu entangled in my arms.
“These thorns you mention. Care to explain?” Enkidu was ever elusive and complex, but I supposed that was partly what intrigued me. At first I was completely baffled that someone made out of the earth could twist me as so right around their finger. Enkidu did so with frightening ease, but I also eventually allowed myself too. It was much like a game: Constantly battling and exciting each other. Where our fists collided, so did our hearts. I supposed mine had only beaten for itself prior, and I knew, as frightening and horrendous as it was, that once it was within Enkidu’s grip, it’d never loosen. Those fingers and their iron grip, ethereal in their touch, lightning to my thunder. Everything both made sense and didn’t. “Care to tell me, again, your thoughts?” I didn’t like being kept in the dark, and they knew this. I smiled, my palm resting on their cheek. My tone, as low and gruff as it was, still held the same authority, the same magnificence. “We have all day, after all.” And then, after their answer, would I reply with the obvious: I love you too. Thorns and all.
