In the Trees Kingdom Amongst the Moss

This is part of a larger story, but it's not necessary to know or read anything else behind it (all you may want to know is that the narrator has really severe PTSD). If you haven't read Chapters 1 and 2 for this, then you may want to, but it's not necessary. If you like this, please check out my other pieces. Please comment--trying to get as much feedback as possible. Thanks!

The trees swept in, the moss humming with the breeze. Gunther’s yellow leaves of hair sailed as the clouds exhaled, their song cleaning and polishing his faded halo. There was something so real, yet so imagined in the whole of the world. Perhaps the forest would collapse around us if we continued to imagine, or maybe the reality would catch fire to the trees. Or maybe nothing would happen at all because we just didn’t know, and everything was so real that it was imagined, or maybe it was all the other way around.

The sun was as pale as his skin. Beaming softly, it struggled through the throng of greying clouds, swept the branches to the sides, excusing itself as it slid past the evergreens, lying its back upon the floor, pondering. I wondered what the sun pondered about. How could it lie in peace when it has seen so much? Perhaps it wasn’t placid—perhaps its thoughts were clouded, hell and heaven arguing in its mind.

Gunther watched me as I gazed into the sun’s silent eyes. The stir of the world was light. My confusion led not to a battle of my mind, but serenity, where the questions were evaporating whispers.

“Amy.” My name was light on his lips. I stared into his eyes, grasping the blue. His cheek brushed against mine, noses feathering as our lips met. He was kissing me. Of course there were no words. None could be uttered. I didn’t want to let go. I clutched his shoulders, pressing my lips into his.

My thoughts were flowers that refused to obey the sun, blooming, shards of the rainbow singing with wild might. Belief was so thick, yet so thin. I didn’t understand, and yet I understood. Life was absent, yet there, all at once, so rare yet so true.

His pure, pastel skin against the dark, scarred flesh I didn’t wish to call my own. It was so wrong. I couldn’t do it to him.

“No,” I broke away from his lips, palms dropping from his shoulders. “No, I can’t kiss you. You’re—you’re whole and good, I’m not innocent…”

“Amy,” Gunther shook his head, eyes pleading, the river flowing with sincerity. “Amy, no, that’s not true.”

“Gunther, I’m not good, I’m spoilt, my mind is gone, you can’t kiss me—”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m done,” I croaked, begging for him to understand. “I’m tarnished, I’m tarnished…”

“No, no, you’re not, you’re beautiful,” his voice slipped into quiet. He reached out, setting his palm on my cheek, shunning the scar. The scar. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Gunther,” I could hardly believe his words.

“You can’t believe it, but you are. You’re one of the most beautiful souls I have ever met.”

“Gunther, you don’t mean this. I’m not innocent anymore, I’ve been ruined.”

“No, Amy, you’re beautiful. God, are you beautiful…”

“Gunther…” My heart could hardly contain itself.

“Amy Ayoub, I love you. Somehow I can’t stop loving you. You can say all of these things, but I won’t believe you, because love is headstrong.”

“Oh, Allah, Gunther.”

“I love you,” he gripped both my hands, clothing them in his own. “God, I love you.”

I leaned into his face. I could hardly suppress myself, sliding my right hand out from his fist, holding his face as I kissed him.

I wanted to tell him I loved him, too. But I couldn't.

What is life, but a convolution? What is this world, where I cannot know? What is this, where I love Gunther and he loves me? How can this happen?

To be continued, just too lazy to write the rest.