Endeavor and Cinder - Choose Me

The wind blows from the west, tossing my hair in its breeze. The man who promised to love me is on his way to our meeting spot. I find myself staring off into this field of flowers, fearful of his words. But there is nothing to fear, he had already made his choice. It is plastered all over the news. His life. The woman he bred with while discarding me. I hate the sun. I changed my life because I couldn't for a moment be in her shadow. If he looks at me like he remembers the days we loved each other, I will die a hundred times over. The days when he secretly held my hand. The days when he gently pressed his lips to my brown skin, leaving my cheek warm and yearning for his touch. For a while, I believed he couldn’t love me because I am a foreigner. So I lived within the confines of his rules, I allowed him to love me in the shadows. Only being friends in the light. Yet here I am standing within these daisies, letting their spores pummel and whip around my body as if I have nowhere to be. For years, all I did was watch him from afar. Cheer him on, hopeful that he would hear my voice, hopeful that our fires still burn at the same temperatures. Rubbing my fingers together, igniting just enough flame to sear the sticky pollen from them. I look down, still caught in this surreal dream world where we are together. Our lips had only met once, but the number of times our entwined fingers were set aflame with our burning desire, could not be counted. I love you so much. Tears which I struggle to hold in, seep closer to the surface. They weren’t the tears that I cried the day he left me for her, but melancholy pity parties for the one that got away. The light wrinkles on the back of my hand are proof that I am no longer suitable for him. It's been more than twenty years since I personally heard his voice. Now he has four kids and a scar, a badge of courage. I have my inferno and a nine to five job in information technology. Not one day goes by that I don’t wish that he had run away with me, but he insisted on becoming a hero. My watch beeps within the whistling breeze and my time of relaxation and meditation comes to an end. My heart thumps against my chest. My anxieties are running high. I am so scared of being rejected. I'm scared that he will deny me one more chance to see his lonely eyes and hear the confidence in his voice. I gather my constitution and walk back to my sports car. The engine revs and mocks my loneliness. A loneliness that I chose. Then and now, I can't see myself with anyone but him. I giggle under the strain of my depression. In my head, I constantly wonder if he sees me the way I see him? Was it hard for him to walk away from me? Or am I just another notch in his belt? I take another deep breath, trying to force all of my negative feelings into the back of my mind. I arrive at our meeting place in less than thirty minutes. His car is nowhere to be found. I park under a light that blinks, sitting on the verge of darkness. I get out and continue to the room that lies in the back of an old run-down hotel. This is our secret place. A place where we came to study and hang out during our college years. No one could know that the fire prodigy was spending his time with an unpopular firestarter. Subsequently, with his help, I am able to control my flames, instead of always combusting. I pick up the keys from the front desk and make my way to the back. Even if he isn’t there, I plan on lying on the bed and reminiscing about the time we spent together. As I open the door, my breath catches in my throat and I can’t believe my eyes. “Close the f*****g door.” He says, easily annoyed as usual. “Enji, I didn’t think you would remember or come.” I quietly speak as I close the door behind me. When I turn back around, he stands over me, leaning in and looking down into my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I come?” The depth of the intimidation in his voice makes a tingle run up my spine and the fine hairs on my body stand up. I can feel his breath on my face. The smell of sweet curry laces my nostrils. I nervously stumble over my words looking for the answer to his question. A small part of me wonders why I lost the courage to tell him how I feel. “I..uh..wasn't sure if I mattered?” were the words that came out. The look of surprise in his eyes, causes me to backtrack. “You know..you being busy as number one..and the whole villain takeover thing.” I quickly blurt out. He smirks, then stands upright. “Stop it. From the look on your face, I could tell you were expecting to be alone and you had been crying.” He spoke, then turned away from me. “I’m sorry.” Is all I can think to say. My heart is screaming, "Please don’t stop looking at me!" “You remember when you got excited about aceing your advanced chemistry exam and your body fully combusted right in the middle of the room?” He chuckles, while keeping his back to me. “By the time I put the fire out you were completely…..{gulps}..naked.” “Yea. I was so embarrassed. I showed you something so imperfect, so beneath you. I wanted to die.” I lightly laugh. But that day I truly thought about dying. The look of disgust and disappointment in his eyes, chilled me to my bones. “When you wrapped the bed sheets around you and ran out into the hallway, I wanted to chase after you. My heart told me to go after you, but I didn’t want to get caught in the drama of being a playboy, or something like that.” “Sure. As long as your career was safe.” I sarcastically respond. He takes several steps away from me, still not making eye contact, and my heart sank. There is no way I can get him to see me.