InsaneJournal

You waste your energy, being jealous of me. It offends me. For I see that it is you who has the greater gift yet are too caught up in your ego to see it.

Do you truly believe that I have not noticed? Please, grant me some measure of intelligence. We are all 1^st Class SOLDIER here, I should think that noticing the small details would be part of the job description.

Oh yes, it’s the little things that give you away. Glances that the two of you don’t bother to hide, gestures you no longer notice because they have become a part of you.

I see more than you realize, my friend. You call me your rival, but in the most important fashion I can never be that. Even were I of the temperament to seek love, his heart is yours, and ever shall be.

The way your shoulder touches his as you pass in the hallway, not with rough camaraderie but with something tender. The way his hand touches yours, gently, at the wrist, the gesture speaking more clearly than words. The way your lips curve ever so slightly into that secret smile when you think I’m not looking.

And then the sounds, muffled as they are through walls and no louder than a kitten’s sigh: the touch of skin on skin, the rustle of blankets, the creak of a bedspring. You share your body and your heart with him, until you are complacent with it.

But bear in mind: that which we most take for granted is precisely that thing which might destroy us, yet paradoxically it is precisely that which we are most at risk of destroying ourselves. I would not take such love for granted, and so I suspect I shall never know it.

So envy me my medals and my notoriety; I care not for those, and you are a fool if you believe otherwise. I shall withhold my jealousy of your relationship, for in truth it would not suit me to desire something so unwise.

And yet…