A/N: This is actually one-shot. I split it into two only because it seems too long to put on a page, even by my standard...
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English is not my first language. Please bear with grammatical errors.
And for your information, my fic is based on the remastered version (but I watched the original version, too).
Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.
Night and Day
At five, Athrun was sent to a foreign school by his father, where he met his best friend.
Their mothers were actually the first to become friendly, and naturally he started to spend time with Kira, which he liked. They hit it off despite many differences. Well, it wasn't a surprise since they were both Coordinators.
While Athrun preferred to be careful and prepared, Kira often acted without thinking and planning. Kira tended to avoid doing things he wasn't interested in, and Athrun often had to urge Kira to finish schoolwork before the deadline.
He was used to taking care of himself since his father lived far away and his mother spent much time at her lab. Kira lived with his parents and his mother usually stayed at home; Kira was rather dependent and didn't hesitate to ask for help, which Athrun hardly did.
Athrun often ended up helping Kira finish homework, do chores, or clean up his mess. Not that he hated it. Even though he always reprimanded Kira, he was fine with helping. In fact, he liked feeling needed, though he didn't tell Kira so since he was sure it would only encourage Kira to ask for more help and he believed Kira should be a little more independent and responsible.
Kira also cried a lot, which quite surprised him at first. In his opinion, children of his age, especially Coordinators who matured faster than Naturals, should at the very least try not to cry as they pleased. It was even more so if you were a boy.
His father had taught him so, and he obediently followed his father's directions, especially after moving to Copernicus. He didn't want to disappoint his father by behaving like a baby. He wanted his father to see that he could be a good boy, a son his father could be proud of, even if his father wasn't around to discipline him.
Kira, in contrast, didn't seem to have any qualms about crying, and being consoled by strangers, like he didn't about talking to or asking for help from strangers. Athrun wasn't sure Kira was simply easy-going or foolish...or maybe bold even? Well, whatever it was, it wouldn't change that Kira was childish and needed a lot of taking care of.
Soon after they became friends, Athrun took it on himself to look out for Kira. He didn't mind looking after others, especially those who wouldn't mind being watched over. Well, Kira sometimes complained he was too nagging. But Kira didn't get angry or hostile like some of their schoolmates did when he told them to do or not to do something, which he found unreasonable since he was sure what he said was right.
And his mother praised him for it, which made him happy. His father also appeared to be pleased that he was the one looking after, not the one being looked after. Kira's parents thanked him, too. Kira's mother constantly took care of Athrun when his mother wasn't at home, and he was glad that he could do something for her in return.
He wasn't always the one to give his help, though. Kira was better at making friends and communicating than he did, which he was secretly envious of. A little.
Although Athrun didn't like fighting, other children regularly picked a fight with him for some reason he didn't understand, and he wasn't really good at escaping them. Kira had natural talents for appeasing annoyed people and running away from troubles. Kira often tried to explain why some people were irritated by him in hopes of helping him avoid getting into such a situation, though it didn't work. But Kira was of big help to him in getting out of it.
Without Kira's help, his school life would have been harder. And his life would have been much lonelier and more boring for sure, without Kira.
Kira and he spent most of the day together. Although he had other friends, Kira was the closest, and actually the only friend he felt truly connected to. In fact, Kira was more like family to him than a friend, like a little brother he had never had. He even felt closer to Kira than to his father.
Most of his happy memories involved with Kira. It wasn't like he disliked his parents or spending time with them. It was just that they were busy and he didn't spend as much time with them as with Kira. Not to mention his father was rather a strict man who made people nervous around him.
Having to part with Kira was one of the hardest experiences in his life. Neither he nor Kira wanted it, but there was nothing they could do about it. They were still children and had to obey their parents.
He was sad and a little angry, though he didn't show it to his parents. He thought he was too old for such behavior. He couldn't express much of those feelings in front of Kira, either. Kira was dejected as well, and he felt he had to comfort Kira.
So he made Torii. Making the robot distracted him from the emotions hard to handle, and he could cheer Kira up by giving it to him.
Kira's parents had also been considering relocating somewhere else. Although they had not decided where yet, they seemed to be inclined toward PLANT. Having heard about the life in PLANT from Athrun's mother, Kira's mother was eager to move there as well. Kira and he were hoping it would come true, and they promised to meet again on the day of their farewell.
They also tried to keep in touch, but it was more difficult than they had thought. Due to increasing tension between PLANT and its sponsor nations, there were limited ways for Athrun to contact someone outside PLANT. And he eventually lost contact with Kira.
Nevertheless, he still considered Kira as his best friend. He couldn't feel as comfortable with his friends in PLANT. Probably because he had known Kira for much longer and since childhood. Whatever the reason was, Kira was still important to him, and he kept hoping he could see Kira again someday.
The time actually came much earlier than he had expected, but the encounter was far from what he had imagined it to be.
Never had he imagined it would take place in the middle of a battle. Never had he imagined he and Kira would be enemies.
He had no idea what Kira was doing. Kira insisted he didn't want to fight, which Athrun could understand; Kira was more of a pacifist than a warrior. He also could understand Kira's unwillingness to fight against Naturals to some extent; Kira's parents were Naturals.
However, he couldn't understand at all why Kira sided with Naturals and fought against ZAFT, against PLANT, against Coordinators. Against him. Not wanting to fight against Naturals and fighting for Naturals were completely different things.
If Kira fought at all, he should fight along with Athrun. It was how the things should be, what Kira should do. It was the right thing. Kira was a Coordinator like him. Kira was his friend. Kira couldn't be his enemy. Kira wasn't supposed to get in his way. Kira should be on his side, not the other side. This was so wrong.
And Kira should know that. Kira wasn't a fool. Kira was a Coordinator and should be able to understand him. Athrun had to make it right before it was too late. He couldn't just let Kira go off on his own, go down the wrong path. He had to help his friend. He had to get back his best friend. A piece of his past. A piece of his life.
He tried to make Kira realize that he was being deceived and used by Naturals. Even though Kira was as intelligent as Athrun, he wasn't as cautious. Kira was such a gullible person that he must have fallen for Naturals' dirty trick. It wasn't surprising since Athrun had not been there to watch out for Kira.
He felt more spiteful toward Naturals, though it didn't mean he despised all Naturals or he believed all Naturals despised Coordinators. Unlike many of his fellow soldiers or fellow PLANT citizens, he personally knew Naturals. He knew there were Naturals who were friendly to Coordinators, Naturals he could like.
And he never wanted to harm innocent people, whether Coordinator or Natural. He might have been able to understand if Kira had been fighting only to protect innocent civilians, Naturals who weren't soldiers and shouldn't be involved in combats.
But it wasn't the case. Kira was fighting to defend a warship that belonged to the Earth Forces, along with the EF soldiers. Kira wasn't only fighting against PLANT. Kira was fighting for the Earth Alliance, the very people who had killed Athrun's mother. It felt like nothing but a betrayal. How could Kira, of all people, do this to him?
Athrun was confused, frustrated, and irritated that Kira wouldn't listen to him. Through their childhood, he had usually been the one in charge, the one to decide what Kira or both of them should do: schoolwork, helping their parents, solving problems. He was used to being in control when with Kira.
Of course, he knew Kira wasn't a pushover. Kira could stand up for what he believed in and be very stubborn when he wanted to. Most of the times when Kira had decided to be, Athrun had had to let Kira have his way. Plus, it wasn't like they had never had arguments or fights.
However, this was a much more serious matter, a matter of war, a matter of life and death. It was either fighting together or killing each other.
Despite his repeated attempts to persuade Kira out of it, however, Kira refused to do as he said. Kira kept saying he didn't want to fight against him, yet wouldn't come to his side. Kira wouldn't stop fighting, just like those stupid, conceited, and greedy Naturals. There seemed to be no way Athrun could knock some sense into Kira's head.
Did Kira really believe that fighting along with those dirty people was a just cause? Was Kira seriously determined to go down together with the EA? Would Kira even die for those Naturals? They had separated only for less than three years, and yet, Kira had changed that much?
The Kira he talked with over communications and heard about didn't sound much different from the friend he had known. Yet Kira seemed to be no longer that boy. If Kira was, something like this would have never happened, would it?
Athrun didn't understand what was going on. He couldn't believe his best friend had turned into a person who betrayed him like this. He had never thought their friendship would collapse like this. He didn't want to believe any of it. He didn't want to fight against Kira.
But he had to.
ZAFT had to fight. They had to fight for now. They had to fight to remove threats to their safety. They had to fight to end the war and restore peace. It was the only way. So he had to fight. Even against his friend. Even against Kira. For ZAFT.
No matter how much it tormented him, it was the only option he had. Kira left him with no choice. He had to do what he should do. He had chosen to accomplish his duty. He had chosen to fight. And he shouldn't waver. He shouldn't hesitate. He should defeat Kira if Kira was his enemy now, if Kira had chosen to become one.
He knew it and kept telling himself so, though he couldn't make his peace with it. He doubted he would ever be able to. He was torn between his loyalty to his country and his race and his love for a friend. He didn't want to lose someone he loved again. He wanted to protect the people he cared about. Nevertheless, he had to fight against one of them.
It was the bitter reality. Reality of the war. Reality of this world. Reality of his life. Which was even harsher and grimmer than he had thought. Which seemed to be getting worse and worse as if it wasn't already bad enough.
Going into a battle became more stressful. He had more restless nights, more and worse nightmares. He feared tomorrow. He feared that tomorrow, he would come across Kira in the battlefield again and have to kill him. He would rather never see Kira again. He wished he had never met Kira after the peaceful farewell at Copernicus.
Sometimes, he even wished tomorrow would never come, though he perfectly knew it was a stupid and vain wish.
Athrun was thirteen when his engagement was arranged by his father.
He wasn't happy when his father told him about the engagement. He knew very well what it was: a kind of publicity stunt to promote the marriage regulation and political unity. Sure, he understood its necessity, but it didn't mean he could completely accept it. He felt as if he was only a tool to his father, a political pawn to gain more power and achieve his ambitions.
But he shouldn't think like that. His father was simply doing what he believed was right. His father believed in the genetic matchmaking program and regulating marriage according to it. His father believed it was right for Coordinators, for PLANT, and for Athrun to follow the rule.
It was also important that his father and the father of the girl he was now engaged to showed they were closely united, considering the fact that both men were important members of the Supreme Council and the current situation surrounding PLANT.
This was all for the greater good, for PLANT, for Coordinators.
Although he was still far from excited about the engagement, it wasn't like he loved another girl. Plus, he didn't want to disappoint his father, and he wanted to be a person who did the right thing. So he resigned himself to going along with the engagement, telling himself it was his duty.
At least, his fiancée was a sweet girl, whom he could like. He usually brought flowers when he visited her, since it seemed like the most appropriate present for a girl.
One day, an idea occurred to him while wondering what kind of robot he was going to make next, and he made her a Haro. Then another, and yet another one, for she said she liked them very much.
Although it baffled him that she treated Haros as if they were actual friends instead of mere toys which they were, he was glad and relieved that she looked happy with them. Giving her flowers or Haros was the easiest way, actually the only way, he could think of to please her. It wasn't in his nature to say or do things that could entertain girls.
He was aware that the way he acted around her wasn't how it was supposed to be. Although he acted the way a gentleman should, which he had been raised to be, he couldn't be really relaxed with her, and he felt a little bad about it since she was always friendly and seemed to genuinely welcome his company. He felt that by offering presents to her, he could make up for his stiff attitude, and lack of romantic feelings for her.
He supposed he didn't really have to feel bad about the latter since the engagement wasn't about romantic love and she probably also didn't like him that way, though he wasn't sure about it.
It wasn't his forte to perceive other people's feelings, and he wasn't eager to find out what she thought of him in the first place. In fact, he preferred to not know it. He had no idea what to do if she had romantic feelings for him or she saw him as a boring person and a disappointment.
If it was about some kind of project like making a robot, he was sure he could fix the problem. However, he had never been good at getting along with other people, especially girls.
He often wished Kira had been here so that he probably could receive helpful advices. He had no friends to turn to in PLANT. In addition to the fact that he generally didn't like to ask for advice or even to talk about his personal matters, his friends were envious of his being engaged to a popular singer, which made him even more reluctant to talk about her with them.
His mother was probably the best choice, if not the only one, but he felt embarrassed talking about girls with his mother. When she asked him about Lacus and their relationship, he simply said Lacus was nice and they were doing fine.
He might have asked her for advice eventually, if he had had more time with her. However, she was gone not long after the engagement had been arranged.
His mother's death changed his perspective on the engagement. Now, he was glad he had a fiancée.
Spending about half of his life in a foreign country, he didn't quite feel at home in his home country. His parents had been the only people in PLANT that he felt connection with. His friends from before he had left PLANT were now strangers. Although he had acquired some friends since his return, he wasn't close to them.
He needed to protect PLANT. Even though it didn't exactly feel like it, it was still his homeland—and the country his mother had loved. It seemed protecting it would somewhat compensate for his inability to have protected her. He felt he was obligated to protect it, and wanted to do it.
Nevertheless, it was hard to keep fighting only for PLANT due to his lack of strong emotional ties to it. His father didn't help him much. His father wasn't the kind of person who he could feel needed his protection.
But Lacus was.
She was a symbol of peace. Her slow, elegant songs performed by a gentle voice brought a peace of mind to listeners. It was probably one of the factors that had made her so popular. People were distressed because of the conflicts and the war, and sought comfort in her songs.
It was easy for him, for anyone, to feel he had to protect the songstress. It was easy for him to believe that he had to fight so that she, and people like her, could live a peaceful life, which could be broken so easily. That he had to be strong so that he could defend those like her, who were too weak to defend themselves and needed him to fight for them.
Fighting seemed like truly the right thing when he visited her and caught a glimpse of her life, which was definitely something that had to be protected, something that shouldn't be destroyed like his mother's life had been.
She was someone who should be kept safe, far away from the war.
Therefore, the news of her missing made him quite uneasy. He didn't like his father making him participate in the search for her, not just because his father seemed to care only about appearances and publicity. His reluctance didn't mean he didn't care about her or wasn't worried about her. He just didn't want to think about the possibility that she might be dead.
He wanted to ignore it until he had no option but to face it. He wanted to believe she was safe somewhere and there was no need for him to be upset. Going to look for her himself felt like admitting she had actually been in danger and very likely to have died. It was what shouldn't happen, what wasn't supposed to be true.
Fortunately, she came back alive and well. And she didn't appear to have been affected by the seemingly traumatic experience, to his relief. Some fans of hers called her a fairy or an angel, even a goddess. Although he wasn't one of those romantic people, he agreed she was the kind of person who had the unworldly air about her, the type who didn't seem to be living in the real world.
Even after being taken hostage by the enemy, she still seemed to live in a different world, in a perfectly, surreally beautiful world, without knowing much about what the actual world was like. Without knowing how gloomy and ugly the reality was. The reality he was living in.
He didn't dislike her because of it. It was a kind of consolation to him that some people still could maintain such childlike innocence, undisturbed by the war. He was also proud that he was one of those who fought so that other people could stay being like that.
Still, he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable when with her. It was a different kind of discomfort from the one he had felt before the war. As much as he valued her peaceful world, which was sheltered from the relentless storm outside, he knew it wasn't real and felt awkward being a part of it.
He couldn't be as idealistic or cheerful as she was because he knew the war, he knew the reality. He couldn't say he liked Kira, like she did much to his surprise. Kira was their enemy, a soldier who belonged to the military fighting against their country. In his opinion, it was an inappropriate thing to say. They were two different things to admit Kira and he had been friends since before the war and to admit he still liked Kira.
Not that he told her so. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, break her fragile heart. He shouldn't force a soft girl like her to face the dark side of life, even if it was the truth. That was why he didn't want to reveal his anguish of having to fight against Kira to her, in addition to not feeling comfortable enough with her. He should be the one to protect her, not the one to burden her with his problems, especially when she was probably too delicate to handle such a depressing matter.
Hearing her say she liked another boy in itself was actually surprising, or odd. She was his fiancée after all, though they weren't a real couple and she probably had meant she liked Kira in a non-romantic way.
He wasn't jealous, but somewhat unsettled—and afraid. It felt like Lacus and he were drifting away from each other. It reminded him of her telling a commander to do what she said as if she was someone completely different from the girl he had known. He had had a similar feeling then. The feeling that the world he had known was slipping out of his hands. That everything was slipping away from him. That he was slipping down into the darkness of the unknown.
He didn't like the feeling.
He wasn't in love with her. They weren't really friends even. And to be honest, he didn't want to be closer to her. However, he didn't want her to go far away, either.
He didn't want to lose any more people he cared about. He had lost his mother. It felt like he had also lost his father in a way. And he seemed to be losing, or have already lost, his best friend, too. Not to mention he had lost some of his friends and comrades during battles. He didn't want to lose Lacus as well.
It was probably why he decided to give her a good-bye kiss for the first time.
Well, he was sorry for not visiting her often and disappointing her, and wanted to make it up to her by acting more like a proper fiancé. He could understand her loneliness to a certain extent, for he had sometimes felt lonely as a child. Her father must be quite busy because of the war, and she seemed to be spending a long time at home by herself.
But he kissed her cheek also because he was still feeling uneasy about their distance which seemed to be growing greater. When she gladly accepted his kiss, he was relieved, thinking the distance between them had not really changed after all. They still could be what they had always been: a betrothed pair. Not lovers, not friends, but not strangers, either.
He didn't want any changes. He wanted things to stay as they were or go back to the state they had been in before the war if possible. He missed his old life. He didn't want anything new, anything unknown or unfamiliar. He just wanted to preserve what was left of his life.
His time with Lacus was almost the only thing that had not changed much. His relationship with her was almost the only thing he had been able to maintain more or less the same as before. Distant, but very peaceful. He wanted it to stay that way. He wanted to keep it that way.
However, there was a vague feeling in his gut that it might not be possible. He didn't want to acknowledge it. He didn't want to think about what his relationship with her was going to be like. He didn't want to find out what awaited him in the future. He just focused on trying to discard the feeling, or at least ignore it for now, while he could.
Athrun lost his mother less than four months after his fourteenth birthday.
His mother was his pillar of support. She was an understanding, caring mother. Even though she was busy with her work, she always spared time for him when he needed her, listening to him and comforting him.
Chatting with her over a plate of cabbage rolls, the favorite food of both of them, was one of his favorite times. Although he wasn't talkative, she was good at drawing out stories from him: about school, friends, hobby, what had made him happy, and what had bothered him.
She was also a good adviser. When he had a fight with Kira or other friends, she often helped him deal with his emotions and sort out the situation. Even when he hid how upset he was, she sensed it and tried to lighten him up, which he appreciated.
After his engagement was arranged, she was concerned over how he felt about it, unlike his father who had simply told him the news without asking for his consent or even opinion. Her concern helped appease his dissatisfaction about the matter.
It wasn't that he clearly expressed his complaints to her, though. He didn't want to trouble her by acting like a self-centered child who couldn't understand the importance of the engagement. Besides, it wasn't like it was something new. As long as he could remember, he had always thought the future was more or less predictable, already mapped and laid out before him. And now, it became more so, his future wife having been decided. It was just the way his life was.
He supposed he was lucky to be the Lacus Clyne's fiancé, as many people told him. They also said he must be happy to have such a brilliant future. He would be married to the most popular idol in PLANT, and, with his high abilities and his father's influence, surely have an important job, probably one like his father's.
He himself wasn't so sure he was happy. But he was certainly not unhappy. Although his life felt somewhat monotonous, it wasn't like he wanted an adventurous life full of thrills. He wasn't a risk-taker. He was rather the cautious type and liked stability.
So he told himself this was life. You couldn't get everything. No one could have a perfectly satisfying life. It was simply childish to cry for what he didn't have in spite of having enough, especially when he didn't know what it was, what his life lacked.
Although the rebellious teenager in him was frustrated by his father's overbearing ways, he wasn't reckless or foolish enough to act on it. His parents loved him and they knew what was best for him, so living the life they—or his father—had planned for him was the best choice. Even if it didn't feel like the best, it was good enough.
Thus, he went on with his life, which was supposed to remain stable and normal, if a little boring.
His sense of normalcy had much to do with his mother. She was the one who usually offered it. She had always been with him, even though his father or Kira hadn't. Her consistent presence had been a great help to him in adjusting to the big changes in his life, when he had moved to Copernicus from PLANT and when he had moved back to PLANT, leaving behind someone he loved as family at both times.
She was probably the only person he took for granted, the only person he expected to be always there for him.
Until the cruel reality made him realize that it wasn't true. That nothing could be taken for granted. That nothing was truly safe and secured.
Not his mother. Not the peace. Not the future.
He had never thought war actually would break out. He had never imagined he would lose his mother at such an early age, in such a brutal way. He had never predicted his life would be filled with the unknown, the unexpected.
His world turned upside down, becoming a mess. His life was suddenly frail, cracking and crumbling.
His mother had once told him his name meant "dawn" and it was a symbol of hope. He had not been able to understand and asked why, frowning.
"Day always comes after night. And the darkest hour is just before dawn," she had answered with a smile. "However dark it is, however hopeless it seems, don't give up. Then you can find the light. Dawn will break. Always."
Night had fallen. A seemingly never-ending night. Darker than ever.
After her death, it was like the light was gone out of his home, and of his father's life. And probably of his life, too.
Everything in his world seemed to be wrapped in obscurity. He wasn't sure what his future, or the future of the world for that matter, would be like anymore. He no longer knew what would happen tomorrow. And he was afraid. He wasn't fond of unpredictable things. He preferred routines and rules.
It might be one of the reasons why he signed up for ZAFT only a week after his mother had died.
He did it mostly because he wanted to do something. To bring justice for those who had been savagely killed. To stop something like Bloody Valentine, such a massacre, from happening ever again. To protect something, someone.
He couldn't stand doing nothing. He couldn't stand remaining powerless.
He also had some desire for revenge. He wanted to fight against the people who had murdered his mother in cold blood. The people who had slaughtered hundreds of thousands of people, almost all civilians including children.
Putting aside all those reasons, however, being in the military simply gave him a sense of comfort. There were usually clear-cut policies and goals; he had to endure less obscurity. And the military life suited him well. He liked following regulations and orders. He didn't have to think about anything else. He didn't have to worry about where to go and what to do. All he had to do was focus on the orders he had been given.
Furthermore, his training in the academy kept him busy, which meant less time and energy spent grieving over his loss. It was a good distraction he desperately needed.
Sometimes when he had time to think about his mother, he felt a little guilty. His mother had been an empathetic, compassionate person who believed in the coexistence and co-prosperity of Coordinators and Naturals. She wouldn't want him to kill people or hate Naturals because of her. He knew it.
But he needed to fight. He needed to let out his anger and grief in some way, and fighting was the only way he could think of.
Besides, he was at least doing the right thing, doing what was needed to be done. Someone had to fight, right? For PLANT and for Coordinators. Even though no one wanted war, they couldn't choose to do nothing and just accept being killed. It was Naturals who had started fighting and they had to defend themselves. They had to fight if it was the only way to protect.
Then, he could be the one to do it. He could be the one to protect PLANT and Coordinators. He could be the one to fight for ZAFT. It wasn't wrong. It wasn't like he was going to murder people mercilessly.
He didn't even detest all Naturals. Only those who detested Coordinators. Only those who were responsible for the death of his mother, a person who had always treated Naturals as equals to Coordinators. Only those who had committed the unforgivable sin. Only those murderers.
And he needed the order of the military in this world getting more and more turbulent. He needed a rock, something firm to cling to. He needed a shield which defended him against the turmoil. The mask of a soldier offered him safety from the storms both outside and inside, though it didn't straighten or lighten his world.
He believed, or wanted to believe, that his father and other leaders of PLANT were capable of ending the war. He hoped peace would be restored as soon as possible. He hoped that eventually his world would recover its order and his life would be fixed and settled once again.
Yet, he couldn't really picture a life after the war. No matter how much he tried, any future he could imagine felt like nothing more than a dream, an empty dream.
The only thing he was certain about was that he would never get back his life prior to the war, which now seemed to have been quite a happy one. It was forever lost along with his mother. And he didn't know any other life. Since his mother had died, his own life had become something unfamiliar, as if he was a stranger in his own world.
He was almost sure he would never be as happy as he had been before his mother's death. Such happiness had been completely taken—stolen—away from him. No matter how his life turned out, there probably would always be these feelings of hollowness and uncertainty in him, a part of him that couldn't feel happy. He probably wouldn't have a brilliant future after all.
The world was dark. The future was dark. He couldn't see anything anymore. He had been thrown into chaos and blackness. And he had no idea when it would end. When he could see the future again. When he could recover the light in his life. When dawn would break in his world.
He didn't even know whether it would actually happen. He wanted to believe it would. He wanted to believe what his mother had said was true. He wanted to believe there was still hope in this world, hope for him.
But he couldn't be sure. He couldn't feel anything certain. He couldn't see any sign that it was true. There was nothing he could base his belief on, except for his reluctance to doubt his mother's words, which wasn't enough. He needed something firmer, a hard fact, a solid proof, and he didn't have it.
He was wandering in the dark, without knowing where to go, without really knowing what to hope for tomorrow. And he couldn't shake the suspicion that he would never be able to escape from this darkness.
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