He watches her with sorrow. Watches his friend, his confidant, give all that she can, and then let the people she serves tear her open for more. He watches her bleed for her people – their people – as if it doesn’t hurt. As if she’s not giving everything that she is to them and receiving little to noting in return. He wonders how she smiles so easily. How she laughs and holds her head up so high when there is so much weight on her shoulders.

He wonders if she knows the world would burn without her. He wonders if the people understand, as they revel like spoiled children in the gifts she surrenders without a second thought, that even she has limits. He wonders if anyone else loses sleep over those thoughts, those dark and terrible thoughts – what will happen when she has nothing left? What will happen when she is no longer here?

He thinks about it a lot. Thinks about every little space she inhabits. About how empty those spaces are when she’s not there. He can’t help but focus on those moments when she leaves his side, when she exits those spaces. He wonders if anyone else notices how loud those empty spaces are. He thinks about how deafening those spaces will be when she can no longer inhabit them. How cold it will be without her.

He thinks about the future absence of her a lot. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t help it. He won’t tell her though. How can he? She’s already got so much on her shoulders; he can carry this fear of a future – of the future, by himself. For her. Even if it hurts. And god, does it hurt.

He wishes she would stop. That she would put her foot down and hold tight to the remains clinging to her bones. He prays one day she’ll refuse, that she’ll understand that the people she loves will leave her with nothing in the end. That they don’t actually properly appreciate what she’s giving. That they’ll bleed her dry down to the bone without a second thought. He knows she won’t, knows it’s beyond her nature, but he wishes all the same.

So he’ll smile back if that’s what she wants. He’ll stand beside her, watching with tearful eyes and a fire burning in his belly. He’ll swallow his tears; he knows how they’ll burn her skin. He’ll stand and notice and bleed for her, a steady comforting wall at her side. And he’ll wait, even though it hurts. He’ll wait, watching her drain her own veins for their people, and when she finally falls, he’ll catch her.

He’ll hold her, and then he’ll lay her to rest. And he’ll allow himself to feel bitter triumph as the world falls apart without her.