The Third Year.
The third year came slowly, sluggishly, like it was reluctant to be known. Wikus had exiled himself to the furthers edge of the district, trading his centralized tent for one of the outskirters tents, which suited him better. No one would talk to him, even the humans had begun to dislike him, though they still didn't know that he was Wikus Van der Wink. It was just the mood that he exuded, the glances that every cast at him.
Only Joseph would talk to him, and soon the young boy was forced to bring him his daily ration of cat food, as Wikus didn't leave his tent anymore. It made things awkward and stilted, and Wikus wouldn't speak to Joseph freely, but would instead offer monosyllable responses as he fed on tuna or beef loaf, or whatever the flavour of the cat food was that day.
"Do you think Christopher will return this year?" Joseph asked, now a rather lanky adolescent. He was sitting on Wikus' futon comfortably, eating his own can of cat food. Wikus eyed the younger Prawn, and tried to imagine Oliver. Was he like Joseph now? Tall, rather awkward looking and a little on the gangly side? He couldn't imagine it.
"Maybe," Wikus said, sounding unsure and hoarse as he settled himself beside the teen, his cat food clenched in one hand.
"Do you think he'll remember you?" The questions continued, and Wikus was thankful for the distraction.
"Maybe."
"Do you think he's had another kid now?" The question was asked with a kind of perverted glee and with a slight clicking snicker.
That was a thought that Wikus had never entertained before. Another child? Perhaps Christopher had taken a mate, and was not going to return anymore?
"Maybe," he forced out.
"Is that your answer to everything?"
"Maybe."
"Argh! You're no fun, Brother Wikus. Can't you tell me some more about Christopher?" The boy begged, eager for the inside scoop on the returning saviors.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I've told you everything I know."
Joseph rolled his eyes, flopping onto the futon with a expression was was universal, no matter the species it seemed, of teenage frustration. "Then make something up!"
Wikus resisted the urge to smile, which was an unattractive look on his new, or not very new anymore, prawn face. "Are you asking for a story?" Wikus questioned, throwing his empty can at the growing pile of cans. He had transferred them from one tent to the other, and now the pile had grown to cover most of the ten.
"No," Joseph denied, before admitting, "maybe. What do you think Christopher's doing right now?"
Wikus paused, closing his eyes. "Returning. He's returning."
Joseph stared up at the elder prawn, a look of surprise on his face. "You haven't given up hope, have you, Brother Wikus?"
"No, I've just given up on other people having hope."
There was a silence, then, "you're a good man, Brother Wikus. On our planet, you would be hailed a hero."
Wikus snorted, startled by the human noise in his prawn body. "For what? I've done nothing."
"You never gave up," Joseph protested. "That's gotta amount for something."
Wikus shook his head, pushing himself of the futon. "Just fook off, kid." His voice was gravely and rough.
"Fine," Joseph said, knowing there was no use fighting. He sprung to his feet, eying the elder male while standing tall, "but I still think you're a hero." He bolted out the tent door before Wikus could response.
"Hero? Fook no. Just some human, trapped in a fooking dirty prawn's body. I'm the opposite of a fooking hero," Wikus muttered, as he readied himself for bed. He settled himself on the futon, glancing up at the dark gray tent roof. "What the fook is the opposite of a fooking hero, anyway?"
He squeezed his eyes shut. "A fooking looser, that's what."
Days passed in the same routine, of being alone. Joseph would come every day, only for a little while, and would talk almost non-stop until it was time for him to leave, then he would run back to his own tent and Wikus would be alone again.
He refused to let himself crave the company of the prawn. He was better than that, but he knew he wasn't.
He just like every other desperate, lonely, fooking prawn in the District.
-
The pile of cans in his tent grew as months passed, and soon the third year was drawing to a close. It was one week, one week until the anniversary of when Christopher had left. Wikus felt fooking pathetic, remembering the exact date, but it was burned into his memory. He couldn't forget, even if he wanted to.
"Wikus!" Joseph chirped, pushing into his tent without waiting to be invited. "Mother says if I come visit you again, that I have to come live with you instead 'cause she'll kick me out."
The adolescent prawn sounded far too happy about that prospect, even as Wikus blanched at the idea. "And you still came to visit me?" He shrilled, sounding understandably horrified.
Joseph looked stunned. "Of course! I like visiting you, Wikus!" He had dropped the respectful 'brother' months ago, without prompting from Wikus. Not that the elder male had actually liked the formality, it was the nerve that the adolescent had shown by dropping it without being told he could that annoyed Wikus. "You're one of my best friends." Wikus knew he was Joseph's only friend, but the thought that he was the best of the non-existent bunch was a nice thought at least.
"I won't let you live with me if she kicks you out," Wikus warned.
Joseph did the prawn imitation of a grin, which was, in reality, only a crinkling of his eyes and, to add insult to injury, the prawn winked. He'd picked up the gesture from the human guards. The boy spent far too much time watching them, and mimicking their gestures. "Sure," he said, sounding honestly skeptical.
"I'm serious, Joseph! Go home, or you will be without shelter!" Wikus scowled, and shoved the smaller body out of his tent, ignoring the squawks of the boy.
"I don't want to!" Joseph roared, as he stumbled from the tent, barely catching himself before he tumbled to the ground. "I hate her! She's stupid and fooking insane and-"
"Don't fooking swear at me," Wikus roared back, pointing a disgusting finger at the teenager. "Get the fook home now!" He felt like a parent. A scary, scary thought. What was scary? He felt like a Prawn parent.
"You fooking human!" Joseph snarled, and backed away. "I fooking trusted you!" He turned and raced away from the tent. Wikus ignored the stares of curious prawns nearby as he ducked back into his tent. Human. It had been years since he had been called that, and Joseph was not even meaning it how it had used to been said. 'Human' was a prawn insult, he had discovered, for simple-minded, or bigoted prawns. It was used rarely but used strongly when it was said.
Wikus scowled to himself, the scowl looking terrifying on his prawn features, as he stalked the confines of his tent. It wasn't his fault that Joseph had been acting like an idiot, which meant it was utterly crazy for him to feel guilty, which he wasn't.
He threw himself down on his futon, dragging his sheet over his shoulders and over his head, ignoring that his toes poked out the other end now.
"Fooking hell, Christopher," he grumbled, "come back soon!"
He had taken to talking to himself, or rather, Christopher, about the second year of living as a prawn. It had helped, a little, to stave of the loneliness and insanity he felt lurking at the corners of his mind.
Corners of his mind, aye?
His mouth twitched, curling up painfully. A prawn's mouth wasn't meant to smile, he had discovered, but his human mind still wanted to.
"Clear a little space in the corners of my mind," he sung to himself, the human words not translating well to Prawn. "All I want to do is find a way back into love."
He could remember the song, or spattered lines of the song. He and Tania, his angel, how pretty she was, had seen it. It was a romantic comedy, which Wikus had hated at first, but had caught himself humming the songs in later days. Was he going crazy, remembering it now?
"I can't make it through without a way back into love, oh, ohh."
Maybe.
His angel liked the song though, his Tania. He would sing it for her. Maybe Christopher was listening too, somewhere in the universe?
"There are times when I don't know if it's real...or if anybody feels the way I feel...I need inspiration...not just another negotiation."
The rest of the song disappeared into humming, which had become a gargling noise in this new body. He fell asleep humming the song, chasing away the loneliness with memories of sweet melodies, duets and blond angels.
-
The sound of his tent door, the fabric rustling and opening abruptly, was what woke him. He jerked upright, reaching for the chunk of metal he kept beside his futon in case of gang-related issues, he was somehow not surprised to find Joseph standing there, two cans of cat food clenched in his hands.
He held one up, a peace offering of sorts.
Wikus sighed and motioned for the teen to join him on the bed. Together they ate the food in silence, and when Joseph did not leave as usual, and instead laid on the firm mattress of Wikus' bedding, Wikus politely said nothing.
Somehow, he had gained a tent-mate, and similarly, a bed-mate.
Was he cheating on Tania, he wondered, watching the youth sleep as innocently as a babe. Was she cheating on him? She had taken a new husband, as the human world had classed him as dead. Was there anything left to cheat on?
The golden eyes of the prawn fluttered open, and he scowled up at Wikus in a very childish way. "Why are you still awake?" He grumbled, shifting and burying his face in the futon mattress. "I can hear you thinking."
Wikus resisted a snicker and closed his eyes. It was the familiar presence of someone else in bed with him that soothed him to sleep that night, and the sound of another person's breathing other than his own, reassuring him that the world kept turning as he slept.
-
Joseph was gone by the time Wikus awoke the next day at noon, which was fine with Wikus. He slipped from his bed, and began to pace the tent, like always. His routine continued on, undaunted by this new addition, except now when he slept, someone else slept beside him.
It was only a small change, but it was a huge change.
-
Joseph talked non-stop on the day of The Anniversary, excited and worried, just as Wikus was.
Every Prawn stood outside that night, staring at the sky. They all knew what night it was. Wikus and Joseph joined them, sitting out front their tent and staring at the sky.
When dawn broke around them, they were the only ones still waiting.
And they waited.
And waited.
Joseph left to get their daily ration of cat food, and then they waited some more.
They slept outside, badly and in shifts so they would not miss the return of the mother ship, for four days.
Finally, on the fourth night, Wikus got to his feet when dawn began to break around them. To be honest, it was actually the morning of the fifth day, but the date didn't matter much to the Prawn. Wikus slipped into his tent, and after a moment, Joseph followed him quietly.
Wikus was sick of waiting.
Around them, a somber clicking noise filled the district, as the Prawn mourned the loss of hope.
-
A/N:
Thank you for the reviews/interest in this story.
The Prawn in this story are not going to be hermaphrodites. I have nothing against people who write them as such, but in my opinion, it doesn't suit this story. Sorry to anyone who feels disappointed at this fact. The genders will be explored in more detail in later chapters, to explain these differences.
Random trivia time, Prawn are actually not based after actual prawns, but the Parktown Prawn, which are a type of cricket (kind of). They are pests in africa, held in similar regards to a cockroach. The weird stuff you learn from randomly wiki'ing movies! haha
Also, this story will not be amazingly long. I plan to hit around 50k words, but not much more than that. It's mostly for my own amusement/to get me back into writing.
Reviews/Feedback are loved, as always,
-Liaa