a law student

I was one of the first. I studied with the very first people who took it upon themselves to bring justice to the world but thought that a fair trial was a necessity. Every time I pull away from the world so they will not notice how I do not age along with them, I leave behind years of studying. Though when I step back into the ‘game’ as it is, it mostly is a matter of getting a few of the more recent books, read through them and find someone who will let me pass the necessary exams so that I may be back on the playing field with all the others. Usually I talk about how I’m such and such’s grand-son or cousin or something and it helps me along.

I’ve made a name for myself over the years, or I suppose I should say, to mortals, that I’ve made a name for my family. The last name never really changes, the first name does but not as much as it could. ‘Oh my parents wanted to celebrate my grandfather so they gave me his name, to honor him.’ That one goes through well most of the time and I’ve never had much of an issue with it. People don’t dig much deeper to have more information. It’s honestly fine by me.

Law is a gift, it’s something I’m good at. I’ve been at most of the biggest trials this world has seen, at least while I was working law. I’ve missed a few during my decades or so of being someone else to not seem too suspicious. Do I prefer law to chocolate making? Not really. I actually like the idea of roasting and crushing, molding and whatnot. Though this I haven’t done in almost a hundred years. I usually order my chocolate through the people who run the business, people at the source, from those who pick the beans and create chocolate. In small batches I still prepare it from scratch but bigger orders are more difficult.

Both professions have their ups and downs. I suppose I’m glad to have a chance at both.

I met Eoghan when I was on a law-break and working chocolate. Back then I still prepared it by hand the old fashioned way. Crushed beans and all. When I told him what I did for a living, he looked as me as if he thought I was absolutely crazy. It took some years to convince him otherwise. Not that it was a need for him to believe me as not absolutely crazy but I felt better once he stopped giving me these looks, as if he thought I might have belonged in a loony-bin.

I’m more than aware that, over the years, I’ve managed to make the both of us absolutely miserable. I’d leave because I felt that my grasp over my own gift was slipping. When I came back, I’d do all I could to make it all up but after a decade or two I was leaving again. It took me too long to realize it was a terrible way of going about things. I could have lost him permanently at any moment and now I’m grateful that every morning, every time I open my eyes he’s there, next to me. He smiles at me, he adores me and loves me. His eyes are open and I can tell just how much his world seems to revolve around me. I’m not even boasting about this, it’s just what I see in his eyes.

I’m arrogant, I know I am. I thought I would spend my whole life alone, I thought I was too much of an asshole for anyone to ever take a liking to me. When he first did take a liking to me, I honestly thought he was annoying, just a child in terms of everything I had ever seen. I kept on ignoring him, telling him it was just a passing fancy, a drifting bout of lust.

It never went away. It was a very slow process. I didn’t like letting him near me. At first I almost, just almost imagined him like a child who wanted to learn more about things but it was hard to keep that in mind, he annoyed me to no end. Slowly, over time, I let him in. As I did, I still saw him as too young, too inexperienced. I’d long since set my mind on the fact that love was a foolish notion. Sex was an open game but love was a very, very foolish notion.

He still kept at it.

I don’t know what kept him going, I don’t know what pushed him or why he didn’t give him. Back then I couldn’t have cared less but at this very point in my life I’m more than glad he didn’t. A life as long as mine has been so far with no affection and only some sex now and again isn’t the way to live. Affection, acceptance, love. They’re all things that are absolutely important in this life and I’ve learned to cherish them to no end.

Even after I found myself falling in love with him, I didn’t change my routine. I abandoned him for a decade at a time, two at times, because I needed to find myself. I took him for granted, I assumed he would always be there when I came back and I didn’t stop to think of how much I was hurting him when I did those foolish things. I only thought of myself, of my own sanity and never of his.

I almost lost him forever. I can’t go back in time and change anything but I can work with the future, live one day then the other and make sure to remind him that he’s my everything. That without him my life now would have absolutely meaning. I’m not going to abandon him again, I’m not going to leave him to his own devices for more than a day at most.

A monster is what I used to be and I don’t want that anymore, it’s just not who I am. He’s my most important person, he’s that one piece of the puzzle that holds it all together and without him I am nothing. It took me too long to realize this but now I’m not turning back. I’m changing, little by little, trying to better myself because he deserves that much.

He’s never once asked me to change, never asked me to not see other people while we were each on our own. I wish he had, it would have made me realize sooner how painful this separation was. I wish I could turn back time, I really do.

On some mornings, I might grump at him though it will never be in anger or displeasure, never in unhappiness. I can only be content with my life when I’m with him, happy and pleased. Not all days will be rose petals and perfection but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m with him and nothing else will tear me away, I won’t let it happen. I need him.


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