Baccano | Alive Still | Mortality turned out to be a lie for them. It was never real. Never achievable. And living is the only way to take away the pain. They're not dead. They're not dying. They don't believe they're living either.
Miria & Isaac
Her nose crinkles under the straw sun hat and she pulls on the brim to cover her wet face. Small pink lips curve into a little pout and she looks up at the tall man. "Isaac?" she whispers. The man takes a second to look down to her from the bright advertisement. He hums a response, signaling her to continue. She furrows her brows and pulls on her lover's sleeve. "I don't like it here."
The man looks at her face worriedly. "Is it the rain?" he asks. It might have been. After all, that morning was very bright and sunny. She decided that she would wear her new blue sundress and a hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it. The woman bought it for herself with her own money because Isaac thought it would be nice to do things honestly for a change. Of course, it was a huge disappointment for her when it started raining after lunch at a small restaurant. But instead, the woman shook her head and pulled harder at his sleeve. "Then what's wrong, Miria? Are you okay?"
"I just don't like it here," she mutters. Her eyes shift down to her muddy dress. She had tripped a few moments earlier, and the both of them took shelter underneath the awning of a movie theater. She is clearly upset, as seen from her heartbroken face and dismal eyes. Her hands clench on the brim of her hat in frustration.
Isaac places his left hand on her right shoulder, his right hand lifting the brim of her hat. "Do you want to leave?" He looks at her with sympathy and shares a smile. "Want to ride a cab home?"
Again Miria shakes her head. She hides her eyes and tugs on the hat to mask her face. "I don't want to."
"Why?" Isaac now has a confused look plastered on his face. He looks out to the streets and lights. The rain is falling in too small to perceive droplets, but it is definitely coming down enough to drench anyone who dares to walk in it without an umbrella. They couldn't walk back to the apartment. He turns his head back to Miria and tries to talk again.
"Isaac," Miria softly speaks, "where is home?"
Isaac is almost at a loss. He has never seen Miria so upset before. Usually he could cheer her up with a reassuring grin and a couple of nice words. Now he watches in silence at her small figure, shivering from the cold and... crying. "No, Miria..." Isaac pulls Miria to him. Her hands are still clutching at the hat, but she buries her face into his warm chest. "Please stop crying. It's okay."
Instead, Miria lets the tears fall even faster. She finally drops her arms to wrap them around his waist. Her voice muffles from the contact with Isaac's shirt, her breath warm to the man. "Isaac?" There is a pause—a very short one. Then he lets out a small hum to respond.
Miria feels all the faces she's made the past decades fall away in shards of glass, piercing her heart. Her mind is spinning in confusion and feelings and moments and memories. How many people has she met? How many people has she seen? How many people have died? How many years will she face? How many years until she can't take it anymore? It's all like the rainfall. Small little details that tend to come in large bunches that flood your mind. It's mostly clusters of feelings until it's just empty space. Until it's just being exhausted. Sometimes it's not fun anymore—living.
Miria's breath falls between Isaac's chest and her lips. She can feel how warm her own breath is, and she tightens her grasp on Isaac.
"Where's home?"
A pause and small intake of breath. "I guess we'll have to keep on walking to find out."