[ you aren't someone who has known much love in your life. not truthfully, not really. you haven't been loved because you were ostracized, set aside from others for your abnormal background, your otherness in a sea of perfection.
when she loves you, it's bright, and it's warm, and she tells you so, effusively. you don't doubt her, but, you can't bring yourself to say it back - not because you don't feel the same, either, but because maybe you don't really know what that feels like. have you ever known what that feels like?
after all, every time someone in your life has loved you - has really loved you - it's never lasted. whether by death or by betrayal, one way or another, no one ever loved you unless it was out of obligation, and you decided you would wrench respect out of them, instead. force them to see you as formidable and powerful, as strong and unbreakable.
so when you receive love, you don't know what to do with it.
when she looks up at you - takes in a hiccup of a breath, when you ask the question that you already know the answer to - some part of you wonders if this was ever going to be any different.
but you can't show her that. you pack it up in a box, set it aside, and cooly continue your line of questioning.
...but as it turns out, your heart isn't formed from iron. when she breaks down on you, you feel a part of it break - because the truth is that you love her, you love her more than you think you can say in words, and you wonder if you're just as foolish as your grandfather who came before you.
stubbornly, you don't want to be. stubbornly, you want to be better, and as you sort through the fatal ache of your own emotions, you find yourself thinking i'll be the one to set this right. you make a promise to yourself, right there, as she cries and holds onto you like an island in a storm, that there's only one way for this to end - and it's victory. ]
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AQUILA | LOVE.