This is a gift-fic for Olivia, or "Epic-Writing Fail". HAPPY BIRTHDAY GURL!
This story will be updated a lot faster than my other story, butterfly, due to fact that the majority of this having been already written (but not edited). With that in mind, please enjoy!
Parts of the summary shamelessly stolen from RENT's 'Seasons of Love'.
Their first meeting is by the swings on the edge of Erev, on the cliff that overlooked the setting sun.
"Hello," she says, and settles herself into the swing beside him, either oblivious, or ignoring his glare. "I'm Oz, what's your name~?"
He stares at her for what feels to be only the barest of moments – longer, if the deepening crease in her brow is anything to go by. The silence stretches between the two of them, two heart beats, three heart beats, thumping away.
"Eckhart."
That done, he turns away from her to look up at the heavens. A myriad of colours lazily spread themselves across the sky, brilliant splashes of colour, to which the specific shades he knows the names not. Only occasionally will he spot the last vestiges of pure, day time blue to peek through. The red light cast upon the skies by the light of the setting sun is bright, and so incredibly intense. It's a desert in the sky, elusive blue for an oasis, shades of yellow and orange and red for the sand. He wonders what it'd be like to fall over the edge, and watch the setting sun in free fall. Dying to something like this... It'd be collateral damage.
Unbidden, she begins to talk to him. He frowns. Her voice is high pitched, and squeaky, like that of a small child's, and sounds as if she's deliberately pitching it to give off an impression of happiness. She chatters on about the inane things of life - There is the bully in her class and the sweet pastry cakes that her mother makes for her and 'isn't it a wonderful day today?' she asks. She chatters on about hopes - 'stays sunny' and dreams 'to become a Cygnus Knight' and quite suddenly-
"Let's be friends."
Eckhart stares at her. He has barely said a word to her today, so he wonders what her motivations are. He raises his eyebrows slightly, questioning. He is given a shy smile, soft lips and pearly white teeth. Baby teeth still.
"I see you out here all the time, by yourself. Aren't you lonely?"
"No," he says. He does not seek human company, nor does he avoid it. Oz, he thinks, would be his opposite of himself. She seems to be the sort of person that would fit right in with the endless crowd of faceless people, chattering on incessantly about meaningless things, talking and talking, filling the world with useless noise.
Eckhart turns slightly to observe her better. She's pouting, eyebrows lifted upward and there is a begging look in her eyes - she's hurt. He clenches his teeth, breathes in slowly. She is precisely the sort of person who annoys him. Flighty and dreamy. Eckhart sighs. She'll forget about him once she leaves, and he'll never see her again. He will humour her for now.
"I'll be your friend."
The smile that erupts from her lips lights up her face and gives it a sense of reality - as if the person before was only a shadow of her true self. He's captured by this, captured by the life that is in her smile.
"I'll see you tomorrow then. I have to go now," she says, in lieu of a goodbye, and runs off. Eckhart blinks. Her voice is no longer so high pitched, so annoying.
His eyebrows slowly furrow. "Good-bye," he says, enunciating each part of the compound word. He watches as her visage is swallowed up by the shadows of the forest path, and sighs.
Eckhart sits on the swing, alone as usual. In the distance, the sun sets, sweeping away the imaginary desert.
She comes as promised on the next day. Oz chatters about her life - the boys had planted a stink bomb inside the toilets, and blamed the girls - mother was trying a new sweet pastry recipe and would Eckhart like a bite, here, here in my bag! -"No thank you, I am not fond of sweet things." - and wasn't it such a nice today, without a cloud in the sky? The strange, high pitched quality in her voice is still there, but Eckhart finds that he doesn't mind so much. It's... Tempered, he thinks.
Eckhart does not speak - he is simply content to listen to Oz's ramblings. There is a strange vibrancy to her voice and he finds that he does not mind her chatter as much as he thought he would.
Enough however, is enough. It's been three days.
"Why are you still here?" he asks. The sun is beginning to set again - today, it is one of the most beautiful he has seen - pale magenta streaks of light caress the wispy white clouds before their tips are consumed by the onslaught of brilliant yellows, oranges and red which spread themselves across the skies, claiming this domain, if only for a short lived amount of time.
Oz's chattering stops.
"The orphanage managers are looking for you."
"I..." Her eyes are tearing up and she looks like she is about to cry. Eckhart does not stop in his questioning.
Remember Eckhart, sometimes, no matter how harsh the truth, people need to face reality.
"There are people who care about you. You should go."
The tears are leaking faster now, leaving wet trails down her face. She's still silent, still staring at him with wide eyes. He feels the urge to wipe the tears away.
"There are people waiting." he repeats again.
"M-mummy." She drops to the ground and begins to cry in earnest, unleashing howls of pain. "Mummy is never coming back!" Eckhart hears snatches of "mummy please don't go" through desperate, gasping sobs.
Eckhart is unsure of what to do, so he kneels next to her and awkwardly pats on her on the back. "It'll be alright. The pain will fade with time." se tells her.
"How do you know?!" she half chokes, half yells at him, turning her head so fast her hair whips him in the face. Eckhart does not flinch.
He watches her. "I don't," he says calmly. "But Lady Aria says that all wounds will heal in time, even if wounds of the heart are harder to heal. Lady Aria has suffered the loss of a loved one before. I therefore have concluded that it would be logical to accept her conclusions as true."
Even through her tears, Oz manages a gasp. It is most probably, he thinks, because this is the most he has said to her within these past days.
"All we can do is look to the future," he finishes.
Eckhart sits with her and allows her to sob into his clothes. He idly thinks that his clothes are getting wet. It doesn't matter. Clothes are replaceable. Hearts are not. Another one of Lady Aria's pearls of wisdom. Eventually, Oz's sobs die down to an occasional hiccup. He clumsily wipes away the leftover tears away with his sleeve and softly tugs at her hand.
"Let's go."
Oz allows him to gingerly lead her through the winding roads of Erev. Hesitantly, he links his hand with hers, fingers twining and locking together. Hands are such an integral part of a person - near everything is done with them. To hold hands, Eckhart muses, is a promise - a promise to face the world and its challenges together. Oz's hand is cold in his - cold and clammy and it shakes, ever so subtly. He grips it - offers his strength the only way he knows how, through the warmth of his hand.
The sun has almost finished its descent, sending streaks of brilliant yellows into the purple pink sky. Faint traces of orange lazily drift through, and occasionally, flashes of brilliant blues appear from behind the few clouds in the sky. It's far too cheerful of a sunset, he thinks. It should be raining. The heavens should open their drains and let the water loose, so that the tears and the sadness would be washed away.
As if granting his wish, soft droplets of rain begin to fall. Next to him, Oz, who has been silent all this time, sniffs.
"I hate the rain," she mutters. She stares resolutely the ground, avoiding the sky.
Eckhart turns to regard her with quiet curiosity. As if sensing his gaze, she continues.
"The rain is so grim and bleak. It covers the sky, darkens it and makes it sad."
"But there is new life after the rain."
Oz turns to look at him in surprise.
"The rain washes all the tears and the sadness away. It brings water and nourishment for the plants. It brings a new tomorrow. It brings a new beginning."
He falls in line with Oz again. Together, they tread through the rain.
The rain stops as they reach the gates of Erev. A fresh scent wafts through the island of Erev - the scent of fresh air, pollutants having been washed away from the rain. At the gates of Erev, Oz finally speaks up again.
"I guess you're right." She breathes in deeply and exhales, just as loudly. "It brings a new start."
The search party reaches them, profusely thanking Eckhart for his service. He says nothing, and watches as they take Oz away. He gives her a solemn nod.
He turns, and walks off into the opposite direction. Lady Aria will be waiting for him. The shadows of the palace walls swallow him up.
The next day, Eckhart is there again at the swings. He stares out at the at sky and watches the clouds. But today... Today he is alone.
Today, there is no Oz to bother him about the inane, mundane things of her life.
There is no Oz to talk in her annoyingly high pitched voice, no Oz to fill up the silence.
He is grateful (he is a liar).
Eckhart is alone today.
As he always is.