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Glass Heart (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: I love me my different perspectives. So, here is the Ithaqua POV/continuation of "Paper Stars." It comes with the last of my sanity :) Word count: 2.5k words Summary: He can't love you. He said it specifically that way because it would be a lie if he ever said that he didn't love you. Ithaqua could never not love you. Even when he loves you enough to make his glass heart shatter, he won't stop. Even as he cuts his fingers putting it back together, he can't stop loving you, just as he can't love you.

When he first met you, Ithaqua's first thought was simple.

'Ugh, a stunner.'

Certainly not the most romantic thought in the world, but he is a hunter after all. Besides, you made the match quite difficult with your abilities, so could you really blame him?

Despite his annoyance, Ithaqua (begrudgingly) respected your skills. You hadn't been at the manor long, barely having arrived before him, yet you had already seemingly mastered your abilities and understood the game well. It made him a bit curious, since most who entered the manor fumbled at the start. Such high adaptive capabilities matched with a kind heart and intelligent mind rarely appeared naturally. 

Besides that, this was Oletus manor. No one who came here, willingly or unwillingly, was truly normal. They were unfortunate, greedy, foolish, or naive, if not all at once usually. Their stories, which they seldom shared, were one's that people could only say are pitiful, really. 

So, what are you? Another greedy soul who wished for gold, glory, and more? Perhaps you were someone seeking repentance for their past sins, or a way to forget them? Were you seeking closure from the loss of a loved one? Or, maybe, you were here for revenge?

Interestingly, as he came to get to know you, he found that you weren’t any of them at all. You had come to the manor to find yourself, as you had lost most of your memories due to a horrible accident.

"It's weird." You had said. "Being surrounded by people who apparently know me, yet I don't know them much, if at all. They keep telling me I should like this or hate that, but... that's not who I am now. I guess what I wanted most was to know who I was before, not to become them, but to understand. Understand who it is they miss. It's weird to miss someone who's right in front of you, but in a way, the old me died that day, and now, I'm here. Shouldn't I at least try to be empathetic to those who were close to me?"

It's stupid, he thinks, that those close to you hurt you, ripping you apart to find any shred of the "you" they once knew. Certainly, it's heartbreaking to have someone you love forget you, but hurting them won't bring back their memories. Ithaqua can't understand why they would rather mourn the you that's gone than to love the you that's here now. Instead of thinking about all the memories you had lost, it would be better to treasure the time they had with you and make new ones.

Perhaps it's just human nature to be stuck in the past, to mourn what they had, to lust for more than they need.

Regardless, Ithaqua found that you were lovely just the way you were. Even as pieces of your memories came back, as you started to grow more aware of your habits and why you did them, you were still you. You shared with him sometimes the memories that came back, smiling as you fiddled with another paper star you made.

"A friend once told me that if I make a thousand paper stars, I can get a wish fulfilled!" 

"Well then, I suppose you'll get that wish quite soon. You've been making those absent-mindedly for quite a while."

You had smiled, a proud one that lit up your whole face. You proclaimed you would make a thousand jars of a thousand paper stars. After all, a thousand stars for a wish seems quite cheap, even if this is all superstition.

Whenever Ithaqua remembers that moment, he can't help but smile. Such determination for something you weren't even sure was going to work. Childish, yet that flickering hope was too brilliant for him to willingly extinguish. So, he didn't, watching and sometimes even helping to grow your collection of stars. 

Many years passed, and as the days flew by, Ithaqua couldn't quite hide the feelings that had started to take root in his chest. They were beautiful and complicated, making him lose his cool and fumble where he usually wouldn't. They were odd, they were powerful, and they were so painfully human.

Ithaqua didn't think he was capable of being human again before he met you.

His glass heart, once perfect and whole, had shattered the same day his mother was ripped away from him. With that, all of his reason and humanity had left him. Ithaqua became a monster that hunted down everyone who dared hurt his mother, was even remotely involved. It didn't matter who they were; for as long as they assisted in hurting him and his family, they were dead.

Yet, as revenge tends to do, it left him empty and cold once he had acquired it. The flames of anger and hatred quietly burned out as all that remained was sorrow. Beneath his desire for vengeance was a boy who simply wanted his mother back. However, lost lives could never come back, and even if they could, Ithaqua didn't know if he had the courage to look his mother in the eye after all he had done.

When he had told you this, his sins laid bare before your eyes, you hugged him. No fear touched you, nor did any feelings of hatred or disgust. If anything, you looked like you were in pain. It was the first time in his life Ithaqua ever experienced someone being angry on his behalf, who saw who he was and sought to understand rather than to judge. 

Perhaps his sins were unforgivable, he knew they weren't one's he could easily cleanse, but when you held him and told him you loved him regardless, he felt that he'd do whatever it takes to be forgiven. Ithaqua thought that, if he repented and were one day forgiven, he would then at least have the right to one day tell you how much he loved you. Would you wait until that day? His heart made of glass, fragile as ever, felt like it healed at the mere thought.

However, life isn't so kind as to offer you the time to do all that you wish. It marches on ruthlessly and takes with it people, places, and memories.

It was an accident, but he overheard it.

"I can't wait to leave the manor."

Of course you would want to leave. Ithaqua would never hold it against you to want to leave. After all, for as long as you resided within the manor, the chances of you being pulled into a match was practically 100%. It was better if you left the manor. 

Yet, he forgot one crucial detail.

One day, you will be able to leave the manor. Ithaqua, however, would never be able to leave the manor, not alive at least. Hunters were those who were long dead, immortal, or the like. Ithaqua was someone who was both mortal yet immortal, therefore unable to leave. Hunters could only leave either by moving on to the afterlife or by going to their special realms. Therefore, Ithaqua would never quite be able to stand by your side no matter what he chose to become.

It was a terrible truth, one only he would know. The other hunters would say it'd be fine if they knew, but he felt it was not. The only way for the two of you to be together is if you stayed in the manor, and that isn't something either or you want. Ithaqua could never ask you to suffer so he could keep you by his side. He would rather live his life without you if it means you'd be happy.

He loves you. He can't help but love you. But if it means you'll suffer, he can't love you. Ithaqua refuses to be the reason you suffer, even if it means breaking his glass heart with his own hands.

So, he starts acting as if he's blind and deaf. Ithaqua is by no means an idiot, nor is he oblivious, but he can certainly pretend he is. Even as you stare at him with love and adoration, even as you grow more comfortable with him, even as you clearly show that you're in love with him as much as he is with you, he can't. Though his heart beats for you, his mind will not allow it to do anything beyond that.

He wants to hold you, press his hands into your cheeks and watch you flounder in confusion, wants to kiss words of affection onto every inch of your skin until you realize that you are loved, but he cannot.

Ithaqua can't love you, yet he can't stop loving you. He knows this is hurting you just like it's hurting him, but what else can he do? He can't let you know the truth, he knows you'd certainly stay if you did. That is the worst case scenario, truly. So, to protect you, he must hurt you. 

How cruel.

The cruelest thing, however, is how the marching of time finally comes to knock on his door, informing him his time with you is over. You are to leave him in barely a day.

The first feeling that bubbles up is relief. You'll finally be free, you'll finally be safe. He says he's happy for you when you tell him, and he means it. It's only once you leave that the other feelings boil over.

Grief, longing, anger, and pain. They overwhelm him from the inside out, crushing his poor, poor heart as he weather's the storm of his emotions. For a moment, a moment of intense weakness, Ithaqua considers asking you to stay. To ask you to stay by him and don't leave him please don't leave him he'll do anything just please-

But he knows he can't. 

When you finally leave, when he feels you slip from his grasp like sand slipping through fingers, he has to stop himself from reaching out. Ithaqua can only let himself mourn as he has lost the person he has loved the most once again, this time truly and wholly due to himself.

Then, he discovers the messages. Well, more like memos. He breaks apart star after star, reading sentence upon sentence, forming what he can only describe as the most terribly beautiful thing he's ever seen. Each star marks the feelings you felt, the Ithaqua you saw and loved. 

It's painful. So, so very painful, to see through your eyes who he was and how much you loved him. A galaxy of "I love you's" you never said, confessions and prayers littering a milky way formed from stardust and dedication. The heart crushing mess that tore you up inside as you tried to contain it longer and longer, forming paper stars in its wake. The only remnants of you, the only proof of your pain and affection.

Then, he remembers.

"I'll make a thousand jars of a thousand paper stars. I'll fill loads of bottles and jars, put them everywhere in my room, and get a wish! What do you think, Ithaqua?"

Never in his life was Ithaqua more glad to have the wind at his beck and call.

He ran down halls, climbed up stairs, and passed seemingly millions of windows and doors. The whistling of the whipping wind seemed to beckon him, begging him to run faster. He wound around corners, barely missing the remaining hunters and survivors, before finally, at last, he arrived at his destination. 

Your room.

As he lifts his hand up to open the door, he hesitates. Ithaqua rests his hand on the handle, pursing his lips as he wonders if this is a good idea. Certainly, knowing everything that you felt will bring him more pain. It will bring him closure, perhaps, but truly, nothing could be worth the heartache he'll feel.

However, turning away now would be the same as turning away from you. He'd be turning away from the truth, from the fact that he had a chance with you, yet was too cowardly to try and keep you by his side, to make it work somehow. Even if the world is not ideal, when it's for the person you love, you can compromise and make almost anything happen.

So, he opens the door, finding it much emptier than the last time he visited. Photos and clothes, little knick knacks and trinkets that once filled your room are missing, taking with it the feel of home. All that remains are the bare furniture and the bottles and jars of paper stars.

It started slowly, Ithaqua opening the containers on your table. Then, mere moments later, he was opening hundreds upon hundreds of jars, bottle after bottle, pouring out the universe and its secrets upon the table as he opened star upon star. Depending on how long you had been at the manor when creating them, the feelings differed, as did the colors.

Frantically, desperately, Ithaqua read through the fine texts, each word stabbing into him worse than the last. The first stars he had read from were the most recent. The further back in time he went, the less hopeless, pained, and tearful they were. The further he went back, the more lovesick your words became.

"Today, Ithaqua tripped and fell like a baby fawn on ice. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen, yet somehow he still managed to look attractive while doing so. This is absolutely unfair!"

"With eyes like the abyss, hair like platinum, and a smile both mischievous and kind, Ithaqua is someone even Aphrodite can't help but adore."

"I didn't think I'd ever fall in love at first sight, but when it's someone with witty humor, the most charming laugh, and heartwarming nature, how could I not? Ithaqua is akin to what love-struck poets would write sonnets about."

Ithaqua is drowning in affection, the night sky within his hands suffocating him with each earnest whisper of love. Like prayers upon the wind, sweet and sincere and so very innocent, they tell him every word of worship that had passed through your mind, forming sentences upon sentences on delicate paper.

His shoulders shake and shiver, his hands crumpling paper despite his best efforts. Tears fall with renewed vigor, as though the ones he'd shed when you left hadn't happened at all. The ache in his chest hurts in a way he never thought possible, burning yet cold, numb yet all too much.

For the third time in his life, Ithaqua feels his heart shatter.

He begs and he pleads under his breath, sobs breaking through his words while one hand clutches where his heart should be. Ithaqua grits his teeth as he thinks of all that could've been, of all that had happened, the pain he'd given to both you and him when it could've been love instead.

Throughout his breakdown, Ithaqua can't help but wonder if, instead of taking matters into his own hands, instead of not giving you a choice, instead of sabotaging himself, if he had loved you earnestly as himself, unabashedly, could things have been different? If he had asked you to stay, if he threw away his pride and asked like a priest on their knees, begging at the altar, could you have loved him now as he loves you?

Bruce's dad senses must have been off the charts when Shazam revealed his identity to the league