Until The Sky Swallows us I will Love You | Night Five - The Eyes

We are always being watched. Even when the fog invades my mind and traps me in the dark, I know this. We are being watched. When Michael looks at the sky, it looks back. I don’t know for how long. I don’t think time exists anymore. But the sky stares at us. Most can’t even glance back.

Michael can. Ever since he saved me from the realm of the fog and the sea he has been able to look right into the eyes that watch. And when he does, he burns ever so bright. He watches outside of our walls just like the eyes would and he stares directly into the sun that is our world. He embraces all that is terror and fear and makes it apart of him. He sleeps with his eyes open. He never stops watching. He is just like those eyes. But he is so much more beautiful than our sky. He sees past my fog, he sees past our walls, he sees into every place where humanity still resides, and he takes in their terror and their fear and their pain like it’s keeping him alive. He terrifies me. But that terror is so beautiful to me and I would have no one else to call my own than him.

I am in love. That much is obvious. I am in love with someone with so much more depth than I will ever have. And in a way, maybe this means I am in love with the eyes. Without them, I wouldn’t have my beautiful flame. He would’ve died with the rest of humanity or been cursed to live beyond our walls. And I would’ve stayed in the fog, sitting by the ocean and waiting for it to take me away. I would be trapped, alone and cold with nothing to warm me, and the spray of the salt water soaking into my skin.

No. I am not in love with the eyes. I am in love with the person they made. They watch for enjoyment. Michael watches for survival. And he has never enjoyed, not once, anything he has spoken to me of his visions. He does not find joy in the suffering, only sadness and pain. There are times he cries in his sleep, trying to hide under the covers, trying to close his eyes, but he is never able. So I hold him, my icy breath melting on his boiling skin, and I talk of anything but what he is cursed to watch. I talk of stories, where people find love and saviors and enemies. I talk of whatever I can remember, if anything at all, and If not I create a life for myself that is so full of joy that he smiles in his sleep. His smile is not often seen. It’s like staring into the sun.

The eyes have made him this burden, and I will forever forsake them for that. But they have given me the brightest flame I have ever seen. The way his eyes light up, the way he speaks with so many little breathy pauses and how he holds me in his arms. He is so perfect, so whole. I hope to be that way someday.

 

Authors notes:

1. I'm just gonna apologise for the amount of pining in this chapter. There will be more :3 It's fun writing cheesy romance in the middle of my sad story about death and destruction.
   
2. Isaac saying that Michael doesn't enjoy his visions but needs them to survive is mostly true. Though there is later said to be an element of relief for Michael that him and Isaac aren't going through the things he's seeing.