☹ tsariinisms
☹ My muse is visiting your muse on their death bed
@tsariinisms
So his time has come as well. His end was not really imagined as this but here and now could not be reversed back to change a single thing. What he has done, he has done. What he has said, he has said. What he has wanted to do would no longer be something he could do. A long life and it was going to end here on this bed and on these sheets. He prayed that death would be kind to him. Unlike life that tossed him and turned him and bent him and split him in two. But he could not say that he was not thankful for it. Whatever years he’s spent on this earth and breathing this air were fair. Some were horrible some were good. That was how life was. If it offers anything that death does not it was the taste of struggle and the reward for overcoming it.
No one liked to run towards death but sometimes when you come into contact with your own years you start to realize the acceptance you find inside of yourself for all of this and what has yet to come. The only thing and it was the dark blinds that demise was going to cover him with.
His hand lays motionless besides his body, the same tone of pale as the white sheets. He was having the hardest time even seeing straight but one thing was for sure when he saw it. The light, blonde hair that appeared next to his bed. It was her. And did she hate him or still love him? He didn’t know but if he knew anything it was that she was deadly loyal to him and his cause in many ways. If this was a way of showing him some last bits of gratitude or respect or something alike then he could not even express what kind of joy she brought him. Even if straight after she hated him—- there was no one else that he could love more than her.
His finger twitched in wanting to take her hand but he was feeling heavy in the whole organism. But she seemed to have noticed in time and thus had taken his hand instead. She didn’t seem to say anything and no one else did either, whoever was in the room. He didn’t know. All he knew was that she was there.
“Я не заслуживаю тебя.”
He thinks he felt a phantom of a smile creep up and what was worst of all a tear. Even then, it felt a tad odd yet pleasant to be in her presence. He wanted her to stay here until it gets dark. And never again will light come his way.
