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I barely remember a thing about you.
The way your long fingers twirled in my braid, would poke the freckle on the corner of my mouth.
How I was taught, how you raised me, how you understood me, how you treated me.
So I can't really recall how I treated you. What questions did I pester you with? Was I this stubborn? Did I distance myself, fleeing deeper into cities like this?
I watch the tail of my child's boots fold into the shadows with a heavy sigh.
I let him.
I sure hope I wasn't this way. I'd feel even more rueful than I do now.
The heavy strum of a guitar rattles in my chest.
I don't know how to teach with only three years of Being-Taught.
I don't want to be important anymore. It didn't matter to me if it wasn't with you.
I don't want to be a Jedi. Be the way that I am. Not anymore. You and Grandmaster would have had a thing or two to say to me if you knew this. I know that youngling me would be just as disappointed in me as you must be now.
Why couldn't you be the one to Knight me?
The deep end sits on my shoulders. It crowns me with words and praises I never deserved. I didn't want them from anyone but you.
I want the trust in your voice, the jovial glint in your eye, the curl of your lip, your hand in my hair. But I cannot tell if my mind is playing tricks on me or not.
Did you care in that way?
There are things he does that I know I did, dishonorable things that left me in tears as a Padawan, but he takes them in stride. He takes it all fairly, with a wide, blinding grin. His teeth shine like yours. Like the soft way you would laugh at my jokes, swearing I wasn't impressive with an ever growing smile on your face. You turn your head away, but I still see you looking at me.
It lives on in him, and I feel a little bit more at ease because of it. He is stronger than me. Prouder and more sure.
The staggering wave of emotion crashing against me has me almost faltering. Almost.
He returns each time, face just more wan and eyes just more far. Though I let him go each time.
Was I meant for this? I ask into the cold slate of my room.
I swear I can hear your voice, tickling the nape of my neck and scraping your nails across the metal of my wall.
Padawans cannot master one another.
I remember collecting the shards of your damage that seemed to have lived on in me. Crystalline in my bandaged hands, your eyes glittering upon me from behind blue glass.
Sometimes we were there together.
In the ether I hold your hand, you cover me like a child tucked into bed. Perhaps that's what I was.
I didn't remember a lot at fourteen, now I won't remember thirty.
You were destined to meet me, Grandmaster would agree with me for once.
I remember the warmth of your fingertips behind the glass, your eyes wide with a type of wonder I've never seen on a Knight.
I felt that pull in the ether, and I know you felt it too. Be as stubborn and ashamed and damaged as I am.
I'm sorry.
When my own Padawan wants to leave, I let him. When he needs to hurt me, I let him.
Like I let myself leave you. Blue and green crystals jump from our eyes.
Like I let you be hurt by me. Matching wounds tie me to you forever.
Like I murdered you– The protective curl of your hand around my arm, the alarm that doused me to the bones as you spoke to me for the very last time.
I let him, I let him.
We put in twice the effort to uplift him. My Love encouraging him, just like you used to encourage me.
But I still let him and left him. We fight like wolves, I bite and he thrashes back. The crystalline amber of his eyes gazes down on me. I feel the alarm. I still sit with him through the smoke.
I feel closer to you.
Maybe I can remember how you treated me, how you taught me.
Maybe I do remember you.