Weaver of Shadows
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“I…I don’t know.”
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Gift said nothing more.
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Whatever Edgar needs is my preferred form.
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He has no need of me, I think.
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Ok. Do you need anything more from me?
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Because I am not imbued with a personality, despite gaining a slight semblance of one because of my interaction with humans.
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I don’t need to do anything, as I am only a construct. If it would please you though, you may.
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A…interesting mix of emotions. I can’t quite decipher them.
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He smiled back. “Then I’ll be with you.” He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “I will always love you.”
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“I love you too. So much. Is it…is it the right thing to be with you now?” he asked, looking into her eyes and taking her other hand in his own.
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“I did hurt you. I know I have, at least once, and my inadequacy has contributed to your injury other times too. But I…I want to always be here when you need me.”
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“But…” he had to tell her. “I’ve hurt you before. In times you can’t remember, I was the reason you got hurt several times. So I…I broke up with you. I thought it was best, thought it would protect you. But now…I’m not so sure.” He hugged her tighter, his tears dripping into her hair.
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"I...I love you too. More than anything. I want so badly to be able to protect you." He solidified more. "I just... don't know how."
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He seemed to solidify just slightly. "You being here is helping." He hugged her gently back. He'd thought that before, when they broke up, was the last time he would hug her. He was glad he had been wrong.
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"I...no. I'm not." This time, it was him who began to grow incorporeal. "I think I'm...dying. Or close to death."
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"I meant that we weren't just friends." He looked to the side to avoid her gaze, his hands shaking in hers.
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“We…weren’t.” He looked down, unable to make himself look her in the eyes.
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A tear dripped down his cheek, but he turned his head quickly to hide it. “Y…yeah, they have games. And you can call me that.
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“It’s in New York, on Long Island.” He squeezed her hand back, smiling slightly.
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“What was that?” He stepped a little closer so their shoulders were brushing. He was still trembling, though he made an obvious attempt to hide it.
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“We met at a…summer camp. And I’m glad you think I seem nice, I try to be.”
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“I…we…used to…” he trailed off. “We’re friends.” What was happening?
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“I think it’s helping you stay here. Earlier, you disappeared for a moment, so I’m trying this. I can stop, if you want.” His voice was calm, but his entire body trembled.
