"The Dreamer"

(Kunzite-sama?)

...He's sleeping now...

Peaceful as he ever is, beside me.

He's beautiful, when he sleeps...

and the harshness melted from that face of stone.

He's almost sad.

(I'm the only one to see)

...The only one to ever see, how he is anything else than stone...

Anything but ice;

This face, is only mine.

My fingers brush through his hair...

(Soft, and silken, like moonlight.)

--Gently, gently, don't wake him.--

...He sleeps heavily.

(I know that)

Breathing steadily, calmly;

the arm that was around me, lying slack across the pillow.

--He doesn't know I'm awake.

(I often am... if just to watch him)

--This moment, each night...

more than when he smiles

more than when he touches me

I know this... is only mine.

For any other presence, he would wake...

And his waking, would be death.

(he sleeps, for me)

If only because he knows, I'm not strong enough to hurt him.

(Am I? I couldn't anyway.

Does he know that?)

--Still. It's a comfort.

(Kunzite-sama...)

...There are no stars;

the pale and sickly indigo glow flickers at the window

illuminating his stern face, his strong body,

soft and gentle, in repose.

It's almost melancholy, in his expression--

(and how I want to see him smile;

really smile)

--When he does, it's only for me.

I brush a lock of hair back from his face

and with the softest hand, caress those tragic features

So beloved to me;

(and only I can see them this way.)

I know I am crying, again

and in the night, it's alright, no-one can see.

(and if he wakes, he'll hold me.)

--The light in the window is darkening;

there is the faintest rumble, and I know the storms are rolling in, again.

(I wish I wouldn't shiver.)

Through how many years I've lived, slept here with him;

The wind has an unearthly howl, and each bolt of lightning brings a stab of fear.

--The thunder crashes violently, and I feel my heart quiver.

(He doesn't even flinch, in sleeping)

A shudder runs through me, as all the world is engulfed in the storm

I can hardly see him, see anything, anymore,

as the chamber flashes with the demonic fire's rage, and is dark again;

I feel my tears, as I wrap my arms tightly about myself--

...rocking, rocking, (I wish I were strong)

(I think he hears me crying.)

His softest voice murmurs my name, as he reaches up,

pulling me down under the warmth of the blanket, in the safety of his arms, again.

(Was I so cold?)

As the wildest storms rage on, I bury my face in his chest,

and he holds me.

(only mine, this night.)

And I sleep.

...

There's so much I could say, but I'll spare my (theoretical) reader and only mention offhand that it was not hard to write; but hell to title.