. Esme

He flinched. Conor flinching was such a subtle but painful movement. His face lent back a bit, while his eyebrows furrowed together. His forehead creased ever so slightly, and his lips parted with soundless cries of memories. His arms clench up, flexing immensely as his knees rapidly bent and his whole body shuddered. I had seen him flinch so many time, but every time it got more and more impossible to watch, to bear. He then smiled, trying to reassure me that he was fine. But he had no idea how closely I analysed his every move. His smile was ridden with hurt. It pained him to smile, but he thought I loved it. He thought that every time he bared his teeth, my heart jumped up with hope. I wish I could tell him it had the complete opposite effect, but I couldn't. For Conor to smile, it took all of his effort, it brought back excruciating memories that I knew for a fact he wished he could forget. Conor only smiled for me, to make me happy no matter how much pain he was in and i couldn't take that away from him. Don't get me wrong, I love smiles and I love to smile, but Conors smile. Conor smile. When Conor smiled, his lips lightly parted so his teeth could be visible. his cheek muscles took all of their effort to pull his lips to either side for more teeth to be shown. His eyes stayed ice cold, even more glazed over than usual, and his body stayed stiff as a board, waiting for my reaction. His eyelashes fluttered a bit, as they always did when he was nervous. I was always glad to see this, because his delicate fluttering eyelashes were the only thing I recognised in this foreign face of his. As his mind ripped apart and his heart willed him on, to continue for my benefit. My heart ripped apart and my mind willed me on, to accept this tortured smile for his benefit. It was too late to tell him now, and in my heart I hoped that he could learn to smile out of free will. To be happy again, as before the war. But what I knew was the he could never be happily content. he could experience moments of joy, and he had with me. But he could never really be content with his life. I used to joke with him, saying that I could never tell if he was happy because he was always so serious. It was after that that he began to smile. but now he only bared his teeth at me, his presence full of pain and fear. I could never explain to him that it was not just a smile that made some one seem happy. It was their presence. That subtle glow that you couldn't so much see, but you could feel. Whenever I was with Conor, I felt this immense warmth. This hope, this amazing, dreadfully wonderful love that was too strong to ever pull away from. He had said he felt the same many a time, but I would never know for sure. How can you know if someone was a liar if they never admit to their lies? I wonder if he could see my feeling of utter bliss when I was with him, that glow that was only enforced with his knowing, serious gaze. Was he scared by my extreme need for him? Before I had met Conor I would of thought anyone crazy who needed him as much as I did. I knew he needed me too, so was that alright? Was obsession okay if it was received from both ends? There were always too many thoughts going through my head, and they were nearly... no always to do with Conor.
"Esme?" he called, breaking my train of thought. It was never exactly difficult for him to grasp my attention.
"Yes Conor?" I replied.
"How are you?" he inquired, though this was different. He was beaming. I could see that light that I'd been searching for, his beaming smile was now real though his eyes were still his, stunningly blue and ice cold.
"I'm fine Conor... what happened?" I asked teasingly, my face suspicious though joyful. He was happy!.
"I was thinking last night..." he began, my heart pounded as I recognised his reference to the nightmares he had while wide awake about the war.
"And I got a phone call, it was my army officer" My heart skipped a beat with fear.
"I don't have to fight. Well not for another year at least, I don't know. Nothings for sure but..-" He carried on mumbling his explanation but my mind became oblivious to the rest of what he said.
"You don't have to fight!" I exclaimed with joy and shock, he flinched.
"Esme..." he whispered, fear overcoming his voice, "Is it alright?... Is it alright to be happy?" It was my turn to flinch. What a confused man. I didn't think that I could feel more concern or love for him than I felt as he said those words. I felt a tear trickle down my face, and down to my smile which hadn't had time to fade yet. His eyelashes fluttered delicately and his left arm clenched as his unreadable gaze fell upon my wet face.
"Of course it is Conor, of course it is!" I ran up to hug him, sobbing with joy, love, regret, confusion, every emotion crammed into one hug. I graced his lips with mine, his face became imprinted with my salty tears as he held me against him. In desperation for understanding, in love.
"I'm sorry, I just. I'm happy but I'm sad. You know? Oh for fucks sake Esme... I hate the war." He exclaimed with a hint of anger beginning to intrude into is voice. I was still held tight against him, I doubted I would ever want to move as we kissed once again. Lost in each others confusion and need for love.
"Me too." I muttered between embraces, "Me too..." He pulled away regretfully.
"It's only a year Esme, maybe even less." The glow was gone. I hesitated before I answered his silent question. Would I stay by him? Be happy with him, even though I knew he was walking to his death in maybe less than 12 months. It would cause me pain, but what choice did I have? It was Conor.
"I love you too much to leave you Conor, way too much." He sighed and embraced me once again.
"In hope," he whispered, placing his lips on my head.
"In hope," I replied, meaning it more than ever.