How we transcend time, you and I. We travel across multiple dimensions and parallel universes; always different, yet always the same. ‘The two of us against the rest of the world,’ I once told you. Never a more truthful statement about our lives have I uttered. We are always together, always running from the inevitability of time and its crippling grip.

Never has a friendship existed that could topple ours. We live forever in the hearts of men as a goal and a dream of the highest regard. To me, standing by my side is the best choice you can make, and I will always cherish it with every ounce of my being.

I am often told that I outshine you; I am the one with the flair, the one who holds fire in his hands, weight on his tongue, and magnificence in the power that wraps itself around him. It is utterly false, for you are the enigma; the one who seems so normal, so calm and meek and unassuming, but are so much more.

What a terror I feel when we are torn apart; left behind by one or the other. Such is the inevitability of time. What reverence we give to those who wish us harm: To tug and yank and claw at our hearts until our grips fail us and we take the fall. The crippling curse of immortality means that we must crash and burn every single time, and yet, I would not wish it any other way.

Why is it that we are always fighting against a higher power? In one life, it is against the evil of an ancient, dark magic; in the next, it is criminal after deliciously psychopathic criminal; in the present, it is the infringement of a government sailing across the stars. How rebellious we are, you and I. How lucky we are to be different.

What is love in the meaning of the word itself? Love with a partner is something fleeting, something harsh and rapid and burning like an explosion. What we have isn't love. We do not indulge in that kind of love. What we have is so much more.

I wait for you now; here, by your side. The sorrow and anticipation of a time denied and granted again and again weighs heavily on my chest. What I would do for you is limitless: I would rip apart suns and dance to my own funeral march to know that you are alive and vibrant. What I have done for you, you utterly vexing creature, has cost me so much, but what does it matter in the end? There is nothing that can kill who we are and what we embody. The lives we have led are history's myths. What possible bond such as ours could exist in such a fragile place?

The end of this journey approaches with haste. A shame, the heartbreak I feel, knowing that I could not save you from myself this time around. It is the irrationality of one who knows that, when this chance ends, another begins. No matter how many times I remind myself of this fact, I must always fear that this is the end, that I have failed you one time too many.

I stand with you, absorbing the limelight and casting you into shadow, but you never regret it. I cannot help but feel relief that you do. A master and his servant; a superior and an assistant; the leading and the supporting. None of these are correct, and it pains me to put you in the secondary position. For it is not I who deserves such recognition, but you, with your steadfast loyalty and your endless wealth of greatness.

So sleep on, my dear. Let us forget the evil of existence. Our curse and our blessing shape who we are. Let my brilliance be laid in your hands and my adoration placed at the front of your mind. I await the end of this failure, when I pass from this agony to the peace of your hand in mine. Dream about me. When you wake, I will be right by your side, where I always belong. For apart, we are two halves of a whole, but together, we shine brighter than the heavens.