Was I Yours?

We were little. Frail. Small beings with bright enough sparks to make him want to dim them. Sure, the terrifying past somehow aligned our narrow existences together and we wouldn’t be anything we are today without his rough, manipulative molecular hands. 

Before our little bright opticals we stared into the pinnacle of what he called improvements, things that could (but he firmly believed would) change us eventually into something borderline...perfection. 

I can’t say I believed him. 

But, I digress. 

Why wonder aloud, why speak nonsensical whims of what could have been when we’re here in the now, switching the tenses of the wonders of what is and what isn’t? 

You, as I watch with bated breath, made everything into not a would, but a should. I’ve always admired you for that, watched you bound with great leaps like a cross country runner forward further than I dreamed of catching you with my metallic arms outstretched. How could I catch you?

How should I achieve such a feat? 

Your inspiration grounded me, did you know that? Gave me, too, something to strive for with my entire body, soul, mind, and spirit to catch. The great war called for discipline. I saw it from you. 

I wouldn’t say I took it from you, though. Even following my sudden resolve following our escape from the scientist that raised us like the father he never would be, it never failed you. They say it’s like a slow fade, but I never hailed static. Perhaps stoicness. Yet never anything amounting to something like giving up. 

Familias Anima Mea, the name given to the bond we exchanged between our shared life forces. Something that kept us alive. We guessed it meant something along the lines of...familiar soul or soul by family. 

Perhaps that’s what I saw, you, my best friend as. Someone who would forever persevere. 

And even through that bond we shared, with the terrifying fact that I could never hide anything from you, you never saw through me. Never saw what I had resolved to do long before I’d even known what it meant. 

Earthen rituals never ceased to amaze the processor I had up there in the, and I quote: “teensy head” you always mentioned I had. To be perfectly honest I thought my head was just the right size, proportionate to the rest of my small-framed size. 

Again, we’re getting off topic…

The whole ritualistic black eyed peas thing, creating some mere resolution that should mean the absolute universe but is given up in the first two weeks just wasn’t something my (black-eyed) pea brain wanted to just embrace and move on with its life. That just wasn’t the move, dude. 

Surely it should be something meaningful?

The whole New Year’s thing didn’t quite click as easy as you scrapped with your pen which would eventually drive me absolutely up a wall. Literally. Huffing something borderline colorful—couldn’t have possibly been more crude than her mouth—I rose, armor plating rising as well in some attempt to expel anxiety that built in my veins. For brief seconds I wished to shrink away into absolute nothingness...but the floor did not obey.  

You held your opticals on me, much to my annoyance, and continued to click the pen furiously. Eventually the hammering within my chest forced itself to match that clicking. The room heated when the smile I couldn’t resist crept over your mouth and spread to ever feature you sported. 

Something irresistible somehow overwhelmed me when every single feature of yours somehow reflected joy and purity like no other. The way your knee bounced to echo contentment, your body perks to balance out the bond between us. Air thins in my lungs but thickens around you like molasses, an invisible barrier I’m forced to swim through. 

I hate the way you force me to flounder for breathe, for vent as our deep pools of curiosity meet and suddenly overwhelm like an electric current all I want to do is run from. 

Or run towards?

With reckless abandon. Sprinting at full pace, full canter. 

I neared her at a slow motion jog even though it felt like I was light on my feet even if they weighed me down. An elephant caved my ribcage, hornets battered my head and attacked every vulnerable sensor on my body, but it wasn’t painful. She cooled me and heated every node I possessed. A grip tightening on my heart, I couldn’t wait, couldn’t resist any longer. It drove me crazy, she drove me crazy. 

Let me breathe, let me be. 

All I could do was choke on the sweat and syrupy sweet.

I ask you, BBop, did it hurt so when you burned through the atmosphere? As you fell from the heavens? 

How do you hide those furled wings so well, hold them so tightly? Why do you keep them so close? You blaze in my fuschia eyes, annihilate my very existence and evaporate the very tears from them. 

Was it you burning or was it I?

I near your face like I’m staring into a looking glass and my vision blurs through a kaleidoscope of nerves and misunderstandings and something funny, actually. It’s hilarious you make me feel this way, go up in flames this way, burn this way, cry this way, fall in love this way. 

Look crazy in love. Smitten. Stupidly, wildly, happily in love. 

You are my resolution. You’ve been that from the beginning. 

The entire reason I walked over there in the first place was to stop the clicking of your pen but now I want to get away to stop the clicking of my heart against my armor and the near-tears passion offering to completely blow my cover. 

With gray, slim fingers, I closed my hand around the pen-holding-one of yours and leaned in, popping the space like a needle and an expanded balloon. Your surprise unmasked and our fields unhinged, my lips connected with yours. 

I have one last question. 

Was I, too, your long standing resolution?