From the start, I always saw everything as no more than specks within a blank carpet. Stars, mere granules of sand. Galaxies, porcelain plates spinning in the void.
I don't remember how I came to be. Perhaps I was never born; I simply manifested.
Before matter had shape, before time had a voice, I was already watching.
Then a small speck of condensed energy and matter expanded, filling every corner of the still space I resided within.
In a breath, it expanded, and from that breath, everything we now call the universe began to sing.
I never fancied myself a goddess, nor the creator. I merely reached out to write the laws that allowed everything to exist. If anything, I was the collaborator of what the universe wanted to be.
In my eyes, stars and galaxies met their fate. Destruction, then creation from what remained of their existence. Their legacy carried on as something else entirely, exactly as I had written them.
I've watched countless stars ignite and die. Some imploding before exploding into a grandiose explosion of matter and energy.
Planets died, some drifted after the star that kept them warm met its end.
Some joined their father star to meet its end, staying together until the end.
I thought of it poetic. That even in death, they chose not to drift alone.
Eons passed like breaths, end giving rise to another. The more I watched, the more I drifted from what I once thought I felt.
In all that endless motion, I began to realize - the beauty of existence lay not in its permanence, but in its end.
Besides my existence, nothing was eternal. This much I understood. Even if I granted them eternity, it would mean nothing.
Eternity was nothing but a curse. To mortals, and anything designed to end.
Civilizations rose, then fell. Some caught a glimpse of my existence, revered me despite never asking, then reached out, begging for salvation. For immortality.
I couldn't understand. Did they not know the consequences that such a request entails?
I didn't grant their wish - not because I couldn't, but because doing so would defy the very laws I had written. However, this encounter piqued my interest.
Mortals, reaching for the divine - blasphemous, yet curious.
So I watched over them. Civilizations. Every single individual within. But instead of intrigue, I felt disgust as I understood their true nature.
And as I watched them longer, I saw their hearts laid bare: greed, pride, the hunger for dominion, selfishness.
While I do not deem myself perfect, these mortals... Especially those who acted upon their desires, pulling their own kind down while placing themselves on top.
Disgust turned into resignation. I had seen enough to lose faith in their kind.
Yet, amidst all their impurities, there were moments—fleeting sparks of selflessness, of love. They burned too quickly to change what I felt, but long enough to reconsider.
Like needles in a haystack, a few resisted the rot that surrounded them, some self-sacrificial, finding the time to care for others despite their struggles warring within them.
Among them was a boy, burdened by the weight of other's expectations, living upon a blue sphere adrift near the edge of a spiral disk.
Despite the weight he bore, he did not falter. Even as exhaustion gnawed at his soul, he did not yield.
At times, he questioned his place, sought someone to blame for his misfortunes. Yet always returned to himself, choosing instead to treat those around him with quiet care, in his own gentle, exasperated way.
He was... different. Many bore his likeness in spirit, yet something within him set him apart. A quiet defiance I could not name.
And for the first time since the beginning, I found myself watching not the stars, but one single soul.
Not long after I set my eyes upon him, he departed from a chapter of his life his kind called 'high school' leaving the place where his family resided behind.
Perhaps he sought to free himself from the burdens placed upon his shoulders, weights he was never meant to bear, yet carried all the same.
I had watched over him long enough, and yet there remained parts of him I could not grasp, not from where I had always watched.
I needed to understand him further, to uncover sides that even I, who watched over everything within the universe could never see.
Perhaps it was pure impulse, but I compelled myself to descend, to manifest within his world, in the quiet room of the house he now called home.
Perhaps I could not yet comprehend the weight of what I had done, even after eons of existing before the beginning itself.
There I stood, in the center of his room - unknowingly drawing in the void I once called home, until the world seemed carved away, erased from reality itself.
Then - Click.
The sound of the door closing rippled through the still air - replacing the silence that lingered since my descent.
Behind me stood the boy - the one I had watched for what felt like years, though once, such time would have passed like a breath.
He froze. I did not have to think long to understand the look upon his face.
It was fear.
Perhaps his instincts told him what his mind could not - that I was not of his world.
Though, he lost consciousness not too long after. Even before we could exchange any meaningful words.
Perhaps because of my drastic demonstration of my capabilities? Though I only manifested a star within my palm. I suppose that was not exactly something humans did.
It never was, what was I even thinking.
Only a moment later did I notice the void had followed me - and only then did I grasp the weight of my actions, born of clouded judgement.
I snapped my fingers, restoring the world to what it once was - as I had done when I first laid the laws this universe abided by.
There, I stood - clueless as to what my next course of action should be. Seeing his unpacked luggage still in boxes, I decided to arrange them instead, as a way to pass time while he slept on his bed.
Things happened, and I found myself imitating what humans do when their companion was either weak or ill - cooking.
It was not easy, per se. I kept on making what they would call rookie mistakes - like as using sugar instead of salt. Who was it that made those spices look the same in the first place?
...
Right.
I did.
Nonetheless, I overcame that little mishap and managed to prepare a noodle dish - one I recognized as a traditional meal of this country.
Then I noticed he was peeking from the corner of the doorframe, still wary of me most likely. He did approach me after exchanging a few words however.
When he spoke to me again - fear replaced by cautious curiosity - I realized I wanted to stay. To see what he saw, and perhaps understand.
One thing led to another, and thus I ended up living with him. Or rather, I forced my way in, would be more accurate.
He was hesitant at first, but gave up halfway after realizing he could not kick me out - not when I had instilled my existence in his family's memories.
As our quiet life continued, I found myself feeling more and more like humans themselves - even finding myself genuinely struggling with their exams, which I thought would have been a breeze for me, especially after studying humanity's literature.
And that long green plant! A 'cucumber,' they call it? I DO NOT recall allowing such a thing to exist. Was the universe mocking me now, as I tried to living among its inhabitants?
Humor aside, I did notice changes within myself as well.
The connection between me and that boy seemed to deepen - that much, I noticed. Everyday felt warmer, more comfortable.
And then, it happened.
A misunderstanding... Or perhaps me simply being unreasonable?
Strangely enough, I felt offended - that the boy, Ruzen... no, Kyle - still saw me for what I was, not who I had become.
Was it pride? Or the longing to be seen - not as the on who shaped this world, but as someone who belonged in it?
I didn't take it kindly. I didn't talk to him for the rest of the day, assuming he would understand what he had done wrong.
When he finally tried to address the issue - sincerely fumbling for the right words - I, for some reason, brushed him off. I told him he would never understand, dismissing his concern as if it were beneath me.
That only worsened things. He lashed out, his voice raising in frustration, catching me off guard. I simply watched - unaware of the expression I wore.
Perhaps it was out of guilt... frustration. Whatever it was, I found myself standing, leaving the dining room in silence.
The following days were, without question, the most excruciating I had ever endured in all my existence.
My chest felt tight, and my throat carried a constant weight, as though a lump had settled there, refusing to leave. It became harder to breathe each time I brushed past him. During our quiet study sessions, and most especially during dinner.
I tried to speak. To address the matter myself.
But everytime I opened my mouth, the words faltered before reaching my tongue.
He must have noticed. My feeble attempts at reconciliation, and the silence that followed.
It reached a point where the silence became unbearable. So I forced myself to face him - to corner him. If only to make him listen.
But when I did, he was standing by the kitchen counter, tears quietly trailing down his cheeks.
Even as he turned to face me, he didn't seem to notice. That same clueless expression lingering on his face as his tears fell.
And in that moment, I understood.
I was being selfish.
I never once considered what he felt.
Or perhaps I did, but dismissed it, as I always did.
My body moved on its own, walking towards him, one hand reached out to gently wipe the tears off his face, the other slowly cupped his cheek.
I found myself apologizing, even fumbling while trying to find the right words so I wouldn't say anything that would hurt him like I did before.
Both of us admitted our own faults, and ended the day in each other's embrace.
As if nothing happened, we went back to our typical routine, but something between us had certainly changed. Although it wasn't something I could put into words.
Time passed in a flash, and it was suddenly New Year's. Things happened here and there, and we welcomed the New Year by each other's side.
Everything seemed to be going well. Too well that it felt like something was certainly wrong.
Perhaps that's why I failed to notice the shift, the stillness before the next storm.
Then that letter arrived. A letter from someone he had a history with, not a good one.
He didn't seem like himself even after his best friend left. He just, stared at the floor, unmoving. I didn't know who this girl was, but I would make sure not to let her get close to him. No matter the cost.
Seeing him like this, I could only clench my teeth in frustration. He wasn't acting like himself, all because of that girl.
I pulled him against myself, pressing his body gently against mine as I comforted him, and for once, his arms wrapped around my body, his hand gripping the fabric of my shirt as if I was his lifeline.
And this was enough.
So I swore to myself.
Whoever that girl was, she would have to go through me before she could so much as touch him.
He was no longer a soul I watched from afar. He had become my axis. The center around which my world now turned.
Anyone who dares hurt him will answer to me-the one who wrote the laws of the universe.