Duality

Duality

He comes to me in the still of the night, when there's nothing around to witness except waves, air and midnight. We're at the lake, always at the lake, because there's not a soul alive or dead out there, except the giant squid, and it's in no position to be spreading school gossip, and besides, the stars and moonlight - and rain, when there is any - are hypnotic, and I know he agrees because this was all his idea and I can't say no to him.

Blue and dark and beautiful

And everything else that you are.

Blue and dark and beautiful

With just the stars to watch.

The first liaison was purely rebellion: against my family and their conditional love, against the school and their blatant bias, against him and his reckless rulebreaking, and against myself and the standards I held myself to. I went to him and told him I wanted to know how to do it, how to be like him, and he didn't understand until I kissed him hard how I really wanted to learn.

Everything I want to be:

Bold and bright and smart and sharp.

Everything I want to be

And you don't understand.

He whispers words I don't recognise, telling me in some secret language that he wants to be free, and that he needs me to show him how. He says that he hates me and envies me and scratches me and bites me until I bleed and then he kisses the marks and mutters sorries, explaining that he doesn't want that, not really, because he needs me to teach him to live and love; and then he does it again and again and again and I still want him here.

You have such lovely verdant eyes,

Sharp and piercing through the dark.

You have such lovely verdant eyes

And yet you cannot see.

I wanted to hurt him from the start, to bruise and cut and make sure the scars don't fade, because the lightning bolt made him and Voldemort special and these make me special, too. It's all about possession, ownership and the power that I know I wield, because at every turn he's cut me off and passed me by and shot me down and he has to know that I wish he would stop because without that mark he wouldn't be better and he wouldn't be favoured and then I'd be able to show him that I'm just as important as he is, thank you very much.

Such a lovely porcelain doll,

Hollow eyes and painted smile;

Such a lovely porcelain doll,

Do you want to play?

He cuts my skin until it bleeds and clotted crimson coats my chest, and he sits and stares as my consciousness fades, telling me I'm beautiful and that he could stay and gaze forever, but he never does; he always wipes it away and mutters charms to leave a silver line of healing right across my heart. He says that all I am is in my blood with its clear, red Gryffindor hue and that he wants to see my soul somehow and that's the nearest he can get. I close my eyes to stop the dizziness and think that maybe he has a point.

A scarlet fountain from your heart;

Your soul laid out for all to see;

A scarlet fountain from your heart

And I know it's all mine.

The first time I took out the blade he went whiter than he already was; luminescent in the dark, and asked me in trembling tones what the hell I was doing, and I think I must have cut too deep that time because he fainted soon after that. He's never really wondered since, knowing that through my feverish words I know what I mean and I know what I want, and for some reason that I don't understand he trusts that I'll make sure he's okay, and I will because I never want to forget the patterns of red on white, like Rorschach tests forming images in my mind of like and love and death and beauty, and I don't want to let him go.

Blood and honey's what you are;

A potent mix of bittersweet.

Blood and honey's what you are:

Let me drink you down.

I give my body to do as he will, I give him my blood to paint with, I give him my soul for him to breathe in and I give him my heart to hold, but my mind is mine and it stays and watches while the other four spiral in ecstasy, thinking that this is so messed up I might as well be slitting my own wrists, and I think for a second that maybe I should stop all this; stop giving him control of me, but then I see the look of awe on his face as he looks down at me and suddenly it's not so bad.

I dream about you every night

And wonder why you never cry.

I dream about you every night

To find that I can't wake.

It didn't take long to draw me in, and soon my nights were filled with wind and dew and his eyes and hair and rosy lips and my days were filled with emptiness and waiting, with each stroke of the second hand cutting me to my core until I felt like screaming his name then and there, knowing somehow that he would come when I called, following my voice and taking me in his arms and guiding my face onto his shoulder as I sobbed my bitter tears.

You live in your own fairytale,

Where you're not special; nothing's wrong.

You live in your own fairytale:

I long to set you free.

He cries sometimes, and I never know what to do. He says he's trapped, that it's all my fault, and why can't I let him go, and I don't know what to do so I pull him closer and let him sob into my chest, his tears soaking into my skin through my flimsy shirt, which he says makes me taste of salt. He likes to think he's in control, but I know he knows that I'm lost too, he just refuses to realise it because that would mean we're both just blind, and he hates that we could be in the dark without our silver blades and silver moon and silver stars, for then he'd be alone.

I make a wish upon a star,

Asking it to guide my path.

I make a wish upon a star

And watch it as it falls.

He wasn't as I imagined him to be. I saw something bright that could light up the way and show me how to save myself, but instead he's led me further through the night so there's no way for me to turn around and say I don't belong, and I want it to end so badly that my chest aches with each cut, because he's hurting and I'm hurting and the swirls of blood don't stand out much anymore; just dark except where the light catches it in this world made up of shades of grey, but I can't stop; I won't stop, until he tells me how.

I beg you just to let me know,

To tell me how you can survive.

I beg you just to let me know

But you just shake your head.

He asks me every time we meet how I live the way I do, how I can be stigmatised and idolised and placed on a pedestal yet still be embarrassed when I rush in late for class; how I can be so normal when he can tell I'm broken inside, and at first I don't know what to answer, but finally I realise why I let him do this and I slowly open my mouth and tell him I love him.

Nothing stirs around the lake

And silence rings inside my ears.

Nothing stirs around the lake

Except my beating heart.

He finally told me that he survives because he loves me, and then it was my turn not to understand because my mind suddenly went blank and the normal sharp words died before they could reach my tongue, but I couldn't just stand there when he was glancing at me through charcoal lashes, eyes burning with forgotten fire, so I held him and I kissed him, dropping the knife and being oh, so gentle until he smiled at me and took my hand and we sat and waited for the sun to rise and bring us a new day.

In the first light of the dawn

I lean on you and breathe a sigh.

In the first light of the dawn

I know we've finally won.

He comes to me in the still of the night, when there's nothing around to witness except waves, air and midnight. We're at the lake, always at the lake, because there's not a soul alive or dead out there, except the giant squid, and it's in no position to be spreading school gossip, and besides, the stars and moonlight - and rain, when there is any - are hypnotic, and I know he agrees because this was all his idea and I can't say no to him.

Blue and dark and beautiful

And everything else that you are.

Blue and dark and beautiful

With just the stars to watch.