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ten ways of love

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Once upon a time - or rather, a bit over twenty or so years ago - he had had a dream.

A silly, stupid dream, really. The dream of a child, ignorant to the world. Not ignorant to cruelty, perhaps, but ignorant to how life and the world seemed to hate some people.

A shiny, sparkling dream, hidden away in the deepest corner of his heart.

A dream of happiness and love and acceptance.

It had been the dream of someone still not afraid of that dream. Before everything was torn apart by a stupid prank, made by a stupid boy, who only deserved what was coming to him.

And still, he, somehow, for some unbelievably stupid reason, still saw that dream, sometimes.

A dream of a life that could have been, it things had been different. A dream that never would be, ever.

Every shred of hope was torn from his hands just the other night.

He is married now, blasted git, and it's stupid to be jealous of a future you never had a chance of getting but he is.

He just is. He simply can't stop himself.

Months later, he finds out that he's expecting a child.

It only makes everything worse.

He can wish and hope and dream, but at the same time he knows that he lost that opportunity long ago, even before it was given.

Because he was never loved, not by him, not by her (not the way that really mattered), not by anyone.

The "if only"s can echo in his mind all they want, but he knows that he never stood a chance.

Because no matter how much you love someone, it sometimes just isn't meant to be.

Nothing seems to be meant to be for him, unless it was cruel tricks played by those who taunted him, even after their deaths.