Heaven
Act One
January the 14th, 1998
Their wrinkled hands were holding each other's while the man talked about spring and Martin, their youngest son, coming to visit her next Friday. The smile on the woman's face was bright and strong, unlike her withering body. Not that that was a complaint, she had lived her life like most women of her generation had only dreamt of, and everything that goes up comes back down. Now she had memories, they both had memories, and they were mostly good ones.
The constant beep of the machines didn't make the old man falter on his speech, telling her about things she could no longer enjoy, like taking a walk around the park and visiting their grandchildren. And, oh, wasn't Mal growing.
"Craig" the faint, weak voice did make the man falter. They stared at each other for what felt like eons, for what felt like both the first and the last time. "I love you."
Less than ten minutes later, the beep of a machine became constant, a single note, until a nurse came to the room and turned it off. The man asked the young woman if he could stay for a few more minutes, and Lauren, the nurse, couldn't bring herself to say no.
Craig stayed there, talking to her, about memories, about feelings, about people. He told her things he hadn't said before, maybe because he was too scared, maybe because he was too weak. He stayed there, staring at his once wife, smiled at her and kissed her goodbye, then slowly walking out of the hospital room. After all, he was in no hurry anymore.
At three thirty four p.m. – almost twenty minutes later, and just a couple floors below –, Rebecka Mason pushed again, and Benjamin Mason cried for the first time.
Act Two
April the 7th, 1999
It was raining outside, a somewhat odd spring rain. From the window above the sink he could see the damp grass and trees of the backyard. It was lovely; Rose would have loved it.
The old man grabbed the mug resting in the counter, filled with hot, fresh made coffee, from its ear and went to the living room, taking a seat in a plush armchair. There was nothing of interest in the TV, not much at least, so he went for the History Channel – there was always something interesting there, always.
Craig woke up around 6 p.m., slumped in the chair, TV on, no rain. The mug rested on a small table beside the armchair, half full of cold coffee. He sighed and rested his head against the back of the seat, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes with his hands.
He turned off the TV with the remote, and then got up, pushing himself up with his arms against the armrests of the chair. It wasn't dark yet so he decided to take a walk. It wouldn't hurt him, right? He picked the mug from the table and started walking towards the kitchen.
The mug fell to the ground, shattering into a hundred pieces.
Craig started breathing heavily, rubbing his arm. Sweat gathered in his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to breath deep. That was it, wasn't it? The time had finally arrived.
A few minutes later, a few miles away, Robert Boland was driving as fast as the law allowed him to, while James Robert Boland came ahead schedule.
Act Three
October the 9th, 2016
The day was slightly chilly, hence the scarf. And the thick sweater, and the knitted hat. Rick by his side said he looked like they were already in winter, but it wasn't his fault he had born with such a weak body, right?
The brown leaves fell to the grown, carried away by the wind. Children were in the parks, playing with their friends and people took their dogs out to a walk. All in all, it was a nice day. As they walked, Rick, Drake – a friend of theirs – and him talked about their classes; they were all freshmen in Literature, and shared most classes.
Rounding a corner, Ben – who was in the left opposite – collided against someone. Said someone, being a boy, about his age and height; brown hair, pale skin and as snug as he was. Eyes downcast – and then, after colliding, tightly shut. When the boy did open his eyes, Ben felt like struck by a lightning: they were the most incredible shade of blue, deep like the ocean.
And that was all it took.
Act Four
Summer of 2023
Jimmy opened his left eye, just enough to catch a glimpse of what his boyfriend was doing. Then he shut it and groaned. "Ben, what are you doing?" he complaint, although a small smile played in his lips. When the blonde answered, he swore he could hear the laughter in the young man's voice.
"You know, just taking pictures."
"Of me" concluded the younger. Jimmy grimaced. He was lying on his stomach, limbs at weird and awkward angles, eyes squinted because the sun hit him in the face. Let's not even talk about his hair. In conclusion, not very flattering, not at all. "When will you ever grow tire of taking pictures of me, huh? Or maybe I should embrace myself for it to happen for the rest of my life."
Ben, from the chair by the window, snickered. "Right, like you want me to stop doing it."
"That's not what I mean" grunted the brunette, rubbing his face against the pillow. He then pushed himself up to a kneeling position of the mattress. "I mean, you're always taking pictures of me when I'm asleep, or waking up, or in any other moment I'm doing something awkward and not at all flattering" Jimmy explained, and although he was clearly complaining, there was a fond smile on his face, softened eyes, pink in his cheeks. "Is that how you want to remember me when we're old? Sneezing? Hangover-ed? "
"Maybe" Ben said, eyes downcast, soft smile. The blue-eyed man laughed briefly, then leaned, reaching for the blonde's pajama t-shirt with his right hand and pulling him towards the bed, then on top of himself.
"You're weird" he said, against the other's lips, looking straight into the soft brown eyes. "I love it" he concluded.
Based on an Imagineyourotp prompt (imagine your OTP dying at old age, but when they get reincarnated they meet each other in their next life and fall in love again) that I just had to write. It's slightly similar to my other fic, Something Shone, perhaps, because it's about the same subject (you know, lovers 'til the end, then finding each other after dying), only "treated" in a different way.
I know Act Three might be a little bit too short and too 'out-of-the-blue' kinda thing, but I like it how it turned out, so screw it. Also, I have no idea if there's anything cannon about Ben's birthdate (I don't think there's any on Jimmy, considering his long dead and such), so I did some easy math and hell with it; although, if there's any, let me know, please?
Act Three and Four were written while on a break from math homework (plus, like I've said, English isn't my first language), so if there are any mistakes, anything odd looking, let me know (I'll read it again before posting this crap, but nobody's perfect).
Constructive comments? Comment.
Destructive comments? Comment.
Spanish is my first language, so if you want to comment in Spanish, please do so.
You wanna punch me or throw a damn soccer ball at me? Sorry honey, but the only thing about my address you get to know is that I live in Chile, ñee.
(I wrote the AN before posting it, not while about to, do you people notice? And yes, I'm somewhat weird.)
Au Revoir, Ewoo.