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You were born unattractive.
You have always been told so, people around you have always behaved so, their eyes never lied, as if it were an immovable truth jointed to your face and body as a whole that you would carry around, and, before even speaking a word, others would perceive its presence.
And so you considered yourself to be, naturally.
Which is why you cannot even fathom being worthy of any kind of love.
Especially not the love of such an ethereal being.
But who are you to defy their absolute authority? How dare you even think about doing so? How foul of a project, fouler than your face could ever be.
You bow in respect and guilt.
Their voice, or lack thereof, which you could still hardly understand, but could hear ringing across every fiber of your being whenever you wished to think about it, a splendidly disharmonious mix of tones and whispers that no words could properly describe, did not pronounce itself.
Rather, your Creator's arms wrap around your awkward, stiff body, unsure of whether it is allowed to exist, although you had been convoked and could never dare come in this realm under any others circumstances. Their wings cast a shadow on your face.
Your eyes light up as you shyly embrace them back. Their beauty amazes you. As much as it inspires you, it breeds hatred and shame towards yourself from the bottom of your wounded heart. You could never be so, you are not fit. And yet, a lingering thought remains.
They have shaped themselves as they wished, times and times again, and will continue to do so until the end of time and the death of the last meager star shining at the world's corner. Following its path, they have perfected themselves, perhaps making it truer to their Self, the being they wanted to incarnate in this scene of creation. Or perhaps by any odds, they did not have a play at all. Unlike humans, Gods or Shades, perhaps they did not need to pretend, nor even owe any explanation. Maybe their Self were truly themselves, without a mask, and that its shape simply roamed along the flow of their emotions and existence.
You did not have such chance.
You did not create the Universe, and you can hardly defend it, let alone find your place in it. You were born imperfect and despite all your efforts, you will never be anything else. You only have one shot at existence, one appearance, one heart, one ensemble of thoughts. And with one try you could never be nearly as majestic, and you are not ; and so you wonder, how could they hold love to such a miserable being ?
You seek a form of heartbeat in their chest made of stars and dust, but become aware it is both a lost cause and a rather silly attempt in the first place. Yet you feel at ease in this illusion.
You wonder. You dream. You do not deserve this blessing, but if they have judged you apt to recieve it, then you submit yourself without a word. You respect them too much to do this any other way.
Your Creator uses their thin finger to lift your chin, and despite all their gentleness, you do not quite realize what is presently happening. Before you can say a word, you feel their slightly cold lips touch yours and you hold your breath in fear ; their luscious hair strands wrap elegantly around the puffiness of your face which you become awfully aware of...
But as a feeling of safety passes through your mouth and slide slowly around your hips, you close your eyes.
You stay so a few moments that you wish lasted an eternity. Your senses are drowned. The only thing you can hear is the everlasting sound of dripping water and cosmic blights present in this place, afar from time and any other form of life.
You feel as if this all is wrong, and it perhaps might be ; yet you cannot deny just how many times you wished for it.
When the embrace from Chaos releases, you wonder whether the deep black color stained your lips ; a part of you wishes so, but you notice in a reflection nearby such hope were not granted. You do not find the boldness to stare back into your Creator's otherworldly, half-closed eyes. You blush and stutter and, unsure of where to put your clumsy self, find refuge back in their arms. They accept.
They do not emanate warmth, yet your heart alone makes you boil. You seem to be swiftly burning, and they silently cool you down, complementing your very existence. The love you nurtured all these years leaks out from your pores, and still you cannot believe it is true, but you can only bow to your Creator's choice.
You finally remove your hands from your face to look around you. The faces scattered across their white suit's shoulder, to your surprise, no longer seem to be judging you in any form.
This all feels like a fever dream, and you wish to pinch yourself to make sure it is true, that your heart has not been blinded by your idiocy. But you cannot. You cannot let go, not right now. Their pale fingers are gently passing through your hair. Neither of you seem able to break the silence.
But you cannot stay so. You need to tell them exactly how you feel, even though they probably already know, at least partially - they know all.
However, despite this urge, only two words pass through your mouth as you delicately rub your face against their suit.
"...Thank you."
You feel their hands stop moving, and you fear having made a mistake. You fear having ruined the magic of this moment, at least the one you perceived.
Their transcendental voice both blesses and curses your heart as you are filled by an intense feeling of anxiousness.
"You must not thank me. This is an accord and a mutual exchange of trust ; one I sense you accept, and I cannot hide my delight."
You let out a relieved sigh, sensing the blush rushing back to your cheeks. You are enveloped in sublime peace and comfort gifted by your Creator themselves, and your entire lifetime would not be enough to repay a second of it.
You remain held.
Chaos loves you.
You look into the void surrounding you both, wishing to stay here for a little while more.
You no longer feel weightened by the comments you have received during your life, because you know none of them could even partially stain the worth of Chaos' affection in your eyes.
And you know they will watch over you until the end of times, even after your mortal life expires.
And that is quite enough.