Her Smile
Rain is a quiet, steady rhythm on the roof of a small hut, somewhere on the outskirts of Nepal. Two bodies occupy the space, but only one is awake. Curled on the only small cot, is the boy. He's affected by the travel, tired from the long journey, so he's made to sleep. The other sits in the window, letting stray droplets fleck against his exposed arms. There's a chill in the air, but if it bothers him, he doesn't make it apparent. He just watches the water, almost like a mist, descend and pool in the soft earth.
Today is one of the days that he can feel the chains. They pull and he can't resist them, so he remains planted, unmoving. The liquor he nurses is doing nothing to dull the thoughts he can usually wash away before they get to him. He drinks to alleviate some of the sharp edge, but it's relentless tonight-digging in like manicured nails. He has a job to do and it's too much to balance requirements with the ghosts of his past.
But this is one of those times where the ghosts are more powerful than the poison he floods his body with. The weight of the chains are too prominent and he's too aware. The digging nails in the edges of his soul bring images of slender fingers and he can almost feel them on his face-warm, inviting. The melody echoes in the hut, but Allen doesn't stir. The boy can't hear her like he can. Her dulcet tones only fall on his ears. She sings to him when he can't run away from her and he can even taste her lips if distances himself from reality enough.
She has a smile for him, eyes hidden behind shadows he can't lift. But he can see the way her lips turn softly, words he can't distinguish in sound, but he knows what she says. She reaches for him, but he resists reaching back. Because he doesn't think he deserves to touch her anymore. She, beautiful and sacred, but she has been tainted and he can't delude himself into thinking she could forgive…
Oh but she still smiles at him. And it eats away, chipping at his soul little by little, until he can properly hide behind the mask of a terrible bastard. He's no father to Allen, even mean if an outsider looked in. Hell, Allen likely thinks he is a miserable excuse of a teacher, but that is the point.
Her smile, her beautiful aura...Serves as reminder to remain out of reach, to keep from touching another person in the way he touched her. Not just the slender curves of her body, but her heart. Connections were an open door with risks. The sharp thorns left behind when he lost it all dig into him forever and he can feel her chains tighten.
Inability to let go.
It led to his drinking problem.
No. It's a drinking solution now. A little bit of liquid forgetfulness usually staved off this constant ghost on his shoulder.
Not today, he reminds himself. Today she hovers like the mist of rain in the air. He can feel her arms around him and her voice against his ears. She's comforting him, but she's haunting him. And the chilled air isn't what draws the drunken shiver over his arms, nestling across his neck. It makes him exhale raggedly, leaning against the window's frame. If he's still enough, he can hear her breath and he closes his eyes, shutting out the bleak world for one even bleaker.
Where all he can see is the soft smile she'd reserved for only him.
And for the briefest moment, she's real enough for him to reach out for. But his fingers touch nothing except for the cold drops of rain and his eyes open again-staring at the length of his arm and the liquid sliding toward him.
"Maria," his voice drifts until it blends into the steady patter of rain.
Behind him, he can hear the cot dipping and the small body rolling over. A sleepy mumble tells him that Allen is at least partially awake and he can feel the drowsy eyes turning on him.
"Master?"
"Go back to sleep, Allen." He responds, taking another long drink from the bottle of wine he'd gotten from the previous town. It's supposed to last him at least to the next destination, but as long as her smile hides behind his eyelids, he won't last very long sober.
He is a despicable person, carrying the corpse of his beloved, but it was too late to undo his mistake.
He can only hope that the hell he goes to keeps him from ever having to face the judgment of her smile. It's too unbearable to think about.
And he downs the last of the bottle.