You can't build Love
We all have our dreams. Some are bigger and loud, some are tiny and delicate like a dandelion. We build our castles around these dreams, and cultivate them with great care.
At times we may forget about them, as the vines of time start crawling over the doors and windows. But somewhere, inside a crumbling ruin or a palace, the dream hibernates.
When Fleur first arrived in the castle, I felt like the metaphor had suddenly acquired life.
Those walls wouldn't seem to blank and cold, my bed wouldn't be too big for me, and perhaps — perhaps — this void in my chest would heal, and every empty space would be filled again, not with anger and sorrow, but with love.
I won't make turns to tell how the days went by since her arrival.
The days flowed smoothly now that I had someone to live with. I did not forced anything, I did not asked for anything. I allowed things to be the way they should be.
It was always an indescribable happiness for me to teach Fleur something new.
My eyes were dazzled by every curve of her body, every clever idea. Her mind was an otherworldly landscape that I wanted to explore, all the valleys and mountain ranges.
At dusk, she would open the windows and lean against the balcony ledge, feeling the dying rays of sun caressing her face. I observed that frequent scene with a peculiar melancholy.
The way she stared at the horizon, with a deep sigh and a smile.
I couldn't understand. But it made me feel sad for her. Although I had no reasons for being down, neither had Fleur. It just happened to be.
One day after she closed the curtains and hopped into bed, my mind was drifting away with the dancing flames of the fireplace. I barely noticed as she approached me.
"Albert."
I blinked, only to find the unicorn resting her head on a pillow by my side. So fragile was the sight, that for a moment I was afraid of blinking again and waking up from another dream. But she was there, in flesh and bones and hooves, and soul.
"Hmm?" I said, shaking my head lightly. "Sorry, I spaced out."
"You're always dreamy." Fleur stated. "It feels like you're somewhere else."
"My dreams keep me sane." I smiled.
"Then why does my presence wash away all of this sanity?" She asked, not lifting her head from the pillow.
I had no answers.
"I... Don't know." We stared at the ceiling. "I guess — deep within — that I never truly believed you'd be here with me, one day." I turned my body to face her, and Fleur had this aura of surreal nostalgia. She emanated a feeling of past summers, of happiness intermingled with loss.
I kissed her.
It was a soft, innocent touch.
But dense was the anguish that washed over my soul on that very moment. She never had to push me away with a hoof, because her face told me all I needed to know.
It was the risk, that the doctor pointed out. The risk that I blindly ignored.
"I..."
"I'm so sorry." She muttered, her ears pinning down against her head.
"D-don't be." I stood up, walking away from her room, the shadows on the wall haunting my steps like ashamed ghosts.
I strolled through the corridors, down the stairs, through the gardens. It was night, and the droplets of dew condensed into ice around the tiny blades of grass, and wild flowers.
I carried in my hands the heart necklace, a sealed letter and a box.
My sickness worsened with the cold, I couldn't say why. I felt terrible.
Into the groove, I found my boulder. And there I sat, for hours and hours, until I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers and lips anymore. There I realized that what we want, rarely is what we need.
I could twist the laws of the flesh, but I couldn't build what keeps we all together.
Some things are not for sale.
"What is this that you take?"
I jumped, startled. Fleur stood at the doorway, a look of deep concern in her eyes. A few weeks had passed since that night. Our relationship — which ended up becoming a melancholic friendship — was crystallized and frozen.
"It's a medicine." I said, feeling my voice weakening. I had been trying my best to suppress my addiction to her, drowning my feelings with anything I could find, until they were silent again.
"It's harming you." She replied, stepping into the room. The mirrored wall reflected everything around us, her staggering beauty, my bleeding lips and the chunks of dead hair in my comb. It was abandoning the boat.
"It kills my pain, dear." I placed the bottle aside, sitting on the edge of my bed. "It makes me numb." I plainly stated.
As the days passed by, and the winter approached, we found ourselves more and more landlocked inside the castle. But although our distance was now very short, our hearts drifted farthest apart.
"Fleur... I need to ask you something." I muttered, tapping my fingers on the hardwood armrest.
"Yes?"
"Would you do me a favor? It won't be difficult for you, as it would be for me." I added, holding back the urge to dissolve myself in tears.
The castle had been oddly quiet lately, it was no secret that something here had died — as if things weren't dead enough — even the ghosts had become silent; I heard no more creaks, footsteps, or the usual roar of the wind. The forces that grew together with me seemed to sympathize with my silence.
Fleur was more distant than ever, although she stood in front of me — I couldn't fix what was already done.
The pain in my spirit worsened the pain in my bones.
"Of course. What do you need? I'd do anything-" She paused, with her half-opened jaw. Those lilac wine eyes piercing my soul. "Say."
"There's a little stone road, behind the castle." I vaguely pointed to the walls, crowned with archways. "You probably saw it from the balcony before..."
"The one that runs through the woods?" She asked.
"Yes, yes. That one." I nodded "There's something I keep there — something special — and I need you to get it before starts snowing. Otherwise it will be lost."
She turned her head to the side, looking through the windows. Unlike most of the days, the sky wasn't very cloudy, and some light escaped from the distant horizon in chunks.
"Won't you come with me?" She inquired, confused.
"Oh dear, you know I'd love to..." I smiled weakly, knowing in my heart I was telling the truth. "I've been in too much pain, and I don't want to take that medicine anymore."
"Albert... you need a doctor, you know you can cure yourself of—"
"Fleur, today I just need you to do me this favor."
She lowered her head, letting out a long sigh. Without saying another word, Fleur nodded.
"It's still cold out there, grab your scarf and something to protect your hooves." I noted. "There is a rock stumbled over the path; it won't be hard to notice, I promise. Between the larger boulder and the tree roots, you'll find a small wooden box."
"I'll bring it to you-"
"N-no." I coughed. A sharp pain tortured my spine after the sudden movement. She could see the reflections of that anguish in my face. "What's inside the box belongs to you — only you."
I accompanied Fleur to the front doors, she walked slowly, keeping up with my pace. I touched the heavy columns of the walls, feeling the smooth texture of polished rock on my fingertips.
I like to know when I'm leaving a place. Some may say farewell with words, I say farewell with memories. And every step towards the door was a chunk of history. From the day I walked in as a misplaced infant, to the day I found myself side by side with the only creature I was capable of loving.
Through the half-opened door, a gust of cold air blew over her mane, with some effort I got down on my knees, somehow, we both knew what was about to happen. But from our mouths not a word escaped.
I wrapped a long pearly scarf around her neck, tenderly, I pinned a silver brooch on it. It was an ornate lily, very delicate. I smiled, god, how I smiled. She was perfect, too perfect for me.
"Thank you." I whispered.
She pulled me closer to one of those sad hugs, those you see on train stations and airports. She walked down the stairs leading to the snow covered courtyard, and her coat seemed to merge with the thin layers of frost.
I closed the door, and the ghosts let out a muffled sound.
Never in its long existence, the Mondragon's Castle heard such a symphony.
It was loud, it was powerful, and it skinned even the toughest souls that hid in the corners of that mansion. The sound of Lux Aeterna echoed from the library to the basement, through the archways to the towers.
"Take it, take whatever you want. I'm going to hell, and you all are coming with me!" I yelled, tearing the tapestry from the walls, knocking over the ominous photo frames and family pictures that adorned the halls with those twisted faces.
I could barely hear my own words, as the music repeated over and over again, that balsam absorbing all my condensed anger.
I dragged my body through the frigid corridors of that damned castle, swallowing the pain and releasing it through tears. Alongside with my body, I dragged a heavy gallon of gasoline. The holes I had opened with a screwdriver allowed the liquid to escape freely as I made my way to the library, where the sound was louder.
The tapestry, the furniture, the air itself, was dense with the smell of fuel, and It reminded me of the old gas stations. The gallon I carried with me wasn't the only one. I had poured down the stairs the contents of several others I had found in the attic. Gasoline drenched the dark oak wood floors.
I smiled through that excruciating pain, when I finally arrived at my sanctuary. A place amid the library where I had stacked and clustered all the pictures, artworks, sculptures — anything that reminded me of my broken vision of what Fleur should've been.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" I shouted, dropping the gallon on the floor, kicking it towards the fireplace.
"You always wanted this, didn't you?" I said, opening my arms and staring at the ceiling, the taste of blood in my tongue disgusted me, but the scent of gasoline made me forget about all the rest. Because that was what it was — the residue of an obsessive life. I punched my fist to the sky, growling, trying to tell god it wasn't fair.
But friend, he wasn't there. At least not for me.
How could he be, with all that devastation, all that desperation inside of me?
"Take me." I muttered, kneeling on the ground. Watching as a trail of gasoline dripped towards the fire. "Take me, dammit!" I screamed, throwing a pile of books into the flames. The ancient fireplace roared as I never saw before. The flames engulfed the damp carped, drenched with flammables.
And so I felt the heat, from my sides, from below, from every single page, poster, and postcard that burned inside that museum of memories. I felt the heat consuming the tapestry of the walls, and the wooden beams of the ceiling.
And I laughed, freed from my pain for a second, just enough to rise, and look into the eyes of the marble statuette imposing her presence over the roaring fireplace.
"You're not Fleur." I groaned. "You never was — you don't deserve to be!"
I couldn't feel, as I grabbed the largest firewood plank I could find. It already burned red, when I stole it from the fire. And with a single swing, I hit that damned statuette, crushing its crystal pedestal. It crashed on the burning embers of the floor, shattered in a thousand pieces. Those two violet diamonds sparkled in the fire, reflecting the last light that would reach my eyes.
"You're not Fleur." I muttered, feeling not air but smoke filling my lungs. I couldn't feel, because the pain was dead.
"Fleur is free... We are just debris."
Collapsing on the floor, I stared at the ceiling, as pages of burnt books floated like feathers of a beautiful phoenix.
As I faded, I saw nothing but those eyes. Not the diamonds that shimmered on the floor, but those violet eyes that always found a way to touch my soul.
The eyes I could never possess.