[ Every morning, she kisses him goodbye, and his heart sings within his chest. There's no other moment in the day that brings him so much happiness save when he returns home. (The minutes he spends taking the path up to the school are the worst; minutes in which the distance between them grows, minutes in which he forces himself not to look back, for what use would a man who lives on his own have for such longing glances?)
When she speaks (you're my Original now), he does not know whether it is joy or sadness that cleaves his heart in two. No, no, he thinks. I don't deserve that. Give your heart to someone else, someone who lived in the sun as your true Original did. I am but a shadow. But he says none of that. (And in the end, perhaps it is both. Up until this moment, love, in his eyes, has always been characterized by the most dizzying of highs and the most devastating of lows, and perhaps it is right that it should prove no different in this instance.) His eyes press closed as she rises to her knees, his head bowing. ]
Thank you, [ he whispers, one of his hands coming to cradle her cheek as he draws back, just far enough to catch sight of her features (as lovely as ever). Though his mouth opens as if to speak again, no more words come out. So, again, as more and more he comes to realize just how much that simple statement means: ] Thank you.
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When she speaks (you're my Original now), he does not know whether it is joy or sadness that cleaves his heart in two. No, no, he thinks. I don't deserve that. Give your heart to someone else, someone who lived in the sun as your true Original did. I am but a shadow. But he says none of that. (And in the end, perhaps it is both. Up until this moment, love, in his eyes, has always been characterized by the most dizzying of highs and the most devastating of lows, and perhaps it is right that it should prove no different in this instance.) His eyes press closed as she rises to her knees, his head bowing. ]
Thank you, [ he whispers, one of his hands coming to cradle her cheek as he draws back, just far enough to catch sight of her features (as lovely as ever). Though his mouth opens as if to speak again, no more words come out. So, again, as more and more he comes to realize just how much that simple statement means: ] Thank you.