Okay, guys, I'll keep this brief. The chapter song is "Wait", another M83 song (because they are perfection and I swear if my soul was music, that's what it would sound like). Also, the poem in this chapter is written by Erin Van Vuren. She's written a lot of other great poems, you should really check them out, but the one I use is by far my favorite of hers. Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy!
36. Wait
The evening was quiet, the stars coming out. Eugene walked slowly down the beach with her headphones slung around his neck, her music playing softly through them, though the sound gutted him.
The others were all inside. No one had kept watch in the three weeks since burying Mason. No one had patrolled, either. Though the house was filled with people, it was terribly empty.
When he got to the edge of the water, he stopped. The tide rushed in and out, ceaseless against the very end the of the world.
He wasn't quite sure why he was here. All he really wanted was to curl up in his bed, breathing in the last lingering wisp of scent Mason had left on her pillow. He wasn't sure how he'd sleep once it was gone. Perhaps that would be the end.
He'd thought about it. Every day. Every second. Every painful, dragging heartbeat he'd grown to resent since her death. He wanted it now more than anything. He'd calculated all the ways he could do it, and he'd very nearly followed through a few times.
But each time, holding the gun, he'd never been able to bring himself to pull the trigger.
It wasn't out of fear this time. There was no fear now. There was nothing in him but his grief.
It was the letter holding him back.
Every time he considered ending it, he thought of what she'd written him. He thought it in her voice, which was almost unbearable, and it stopped him every time.
He reached into his pocket now and drew it out. He didn't unfold it. Didn't read it. He had the whole thing memorized. But feeling it, touching it, was like a tether to her. It grounded him, even as the pain threatened to steal the strength right from his legs.
The song changed. He recognized the new one that started up as one of her favorites. One of his, too. The first time she'd ever played it for him, back in Georgia, after Terminus, they'd sat side by side, watching the night sky through a canopy of leaves. Her eyes had lit up, and she'd confessed how much she loved it, how beautiful she thought it was. He'd been tempted to hold her hand, to tell her that she was this song embodied, but she hadn't taught him to be brave yet.
He screwed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow block out the image. He couldn't stop remembering things. It seemed he didn't have Mason's knack for repression, because every second was consumed with memories, good and bad and beautiful. Even when he slept, he dreamt he was back in Georgia, laughing with her on the train tracks, or in Virginia, dancing with her through the trees, or in the desert, making love to her.
Breathing took a serious effort, but he managed it. He fingered the creases of the note, his eyes still closed, and let her words fill him instead.
Hello, Gene Bean.
If you're reading this, it either means that I am currently six feet under, or you've snooped through my stuff- which is a serious invasion of privacy and I could definitely have you arrested for it. Of course, if it's the latter, I probably wouldn't, because seeing you in handcuffs would just get me all hot and bothered and then you'd have the upper hand.
If it's the former, I'm sorry.
I'm so, so fucking sorry. Leaving you is the last thing in this goddamn world that I'd ever want to do. It's why I waited so long to tell you- I knew it would hurt you, and that I'd have no say in it, and I can't stand that.
It's also why I'm writing this, or at least, it's part of it. I wanted to leave something behind for you. I mean, I'm leaving everything to you (I'm gifting my iPod to you, by the way, so you should feel pretty damn special). But I wanted to put my thoughts into words- I wanted to put myself into words, so that I could linger for you. So that you would know, without a doubt, how much I loved you, and still love you, and will always love you.
But it's also because I've been where you are right now. You know I have. And I'm not stupid. I may not be as smart as you, but I can read you like a book. So I want you to pay attention.
Don't let this ruin you.
You can't.
It's going to suck. It's going to be the hardest fucking thing either of us will ever do, and I miss you so much already. I miss you so much I can barely hold the fucking pen to write this.
But you.
You're stronger than I am. You always have been. You may not believe it, but you are. And you need to live.
Because a world without you in it doesn't make sense. Because you have so much good to share with the world. Because our family is broken and they need you.
You are the Chemist. You freed your people in the War. You became their North Star in the desert. You were buried and reborn for them.
I told you they all need to follow your lead, and I meant it. You are strong enough to defend them. Smart enough to protect them. Brave enough to lead them. I know you don't want that. I didn't. But I trust you. There's no one I trust more.
They are the revenants coming back from the dead. You are the Phoenix to light their way.
And you're right. It does sound pretty badass.
I wish I'd had more time to lead them. I didn't want it at first, I still don't know if I do, but now I think...I think I could've been good at it. Maybe great. I wish I'd had time to see.
I guess I just wish I had more time in general.
There's this great line from Welcome to Night Vale, I don't know if you remember: "Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you."
This story was never mine. It was never about me. It was about you, and our family, and our life together.
And I know for a fact this isn't the end- for you or me.
Loving you is the greatest thing I'll ever do. Leaving you is the hardest. And maybe...maybe that's how I know it's not the end. Not really. Because if something so perfect can happen in this fucked up place, I have to believe it's forever. I will die and you will live and that's going to feel like leaving, that's going to hurt like hell.
But you and me? We're not meant to end. We may lose each other in the fray of existence, but it will never be permanent.
Across time, across space. Across every damn multiverse there is. We will find each other.
I know it feels like goodbye.
It isn't.
This isn't goodbye. That doesn't exist for us. I haven't left you at all.
I really hope I'm making sense. It's hard for me to put down exactly what I'm trying to say. I've never been the poet I always wanted to be. The words never come out right. I've struggled and struggled to convey what I thought I should, and I've never been satisfied with it.
But Eugene.
My love.
My best friend.
You made me realize that I was the poetry. That you were. Us, existing, that was the poetry I was trying to create. And I don't need words for that. I got to live it. I got to meet you. I got to fall in love with you. I got to marry you and spend the very best years of my life with you. I never needed words for that.
But I need words for this. And they're falling short.
I found this poem by a woman named Erin Van Vuren in one of the books the Misfits brought back from scouting in the city. It made me cry the first time I read it, and every time after that. Most importantly, it made me think of you.
"Maybe last year was a past life. Maybe you've died since then. And maybe we'll never find our way back, but perhaps there's never a The End. I think we are all a bunch of Almosts trying to be Permanents, and that's where we're getting it all wrong. I am Here. You are There. We are Everywhere. I am I Love You. You are Goodbye. We are Hello Again. We are Alright."
It's beautiful, right? I know you're not much into poetry. But have you ever read something, and it's so perfect, you can't believe it's not a sign?
I love you. I love you I love you I love you and I will wait for you. Whatever adventure is ahead, I will find you first, I will sing you to me. I pinky swear.
I'm seriously tempted just to ramble on, but I'm getting tired now. It's so damn hard to stay awake these days. I can't even tell at this point if I'm making sense, so it's probably a good indicator to stop, but I just...want to talk to you forever. That's one of my favorite things.
Thank you for saving me. Over and over again. Thank you for absolutely everything.
Il n'y a pas de mort, seulement une séparation des voiles.
I hope I got that right. You know I don't speak baguette.
Love, forever,
May
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Twilight brooded around him, its lush colors deepening into the infinity of night.
She'd gotten the French right. Translated, it said, "There is no death, only a separation of veils."
No, he'd never been much for poetry.
He wished he could tell her that it was bullshit. That it sure as hell felt like goodbye. That if she hadn't left, why did he wake up every morning to an empty bed?
He wanted her. No veils, no metaphors, just her. He would give up everything in this godforsaken universe just to see her again. Didn't she understand that?
And yet...
And yet, when he held the gun, he could never pull the trigger.
Why. Why the fuck couldn't he do it? It certainly wasn't because he didn't want to. He was hollow, he was cold as winter. There was nothing left for him here.
Because our family is broken and they need you.
He flinched.
They'd lost Rick, the man who had saved them all, who had given them a family to belong to.
They'd watched as Ashlee and Dray and Charlie were torn apart by the dead.
They'd said goodbye to Sasha, all the while hoping for a cure.
And then they'd lost Mason, after believing their sorrows to be over.
He didn't think he'd ever seen them so desolate. Not even on the road out of Atlanta. Not even after the War. The Misfits were directionless, often wandering the house and forgetting where they were. Daryl raged, speaking to no one, though he wept tears only Eugene and Sherry were allowed to see. Even the children were like ghosts in their own skin, whether they fully understood what was happening or not.
They were not just broken. It was worse than that.
And Mason had thought...she'd thought he could save them? He had never been a hero to begin with, never a leader. He didn't think he was even capable of saving himself.
He was not her. She was a loss to the world. He was just the ashes left behind.
They are the revenants coming back from the dead. You are the Phoenix to light their way.
Bullshit. He had never been a fire. He was not a lighthouse for the boats to come home to. He was not a lantern to illuminate the path.
He could not breathe life back into his people. He had failed in that respect with Mason. He would never forgive himself for that.
Don't let this ruin you.
You can't.
This isn't goodbye.
He clenched his teeth, tears blurring the stars as they emerged from the darkness.
Yes, it is, he thought furiously. It is goodbye. You're gone and I can't hold myself together.
He was trembling, shaking with sobs that fought to escape. He was rising to a fever pitch, and the grief was so heavy he thought it might crush his bones, and he didn't see how he was still breathing, he may as well be drowning in the ocean-
Gently, so soft it was unreal, a set of fingers twined with his.
His rising tumult stuttered, faltered. His breathing stilled altogether as he looked to his left.
Her outline was faint, ghostly, like the halos that haunted streetlamps in a fog. It was so brief, meteoric, that his logic would later attempt to pass it off as a head trip, his anguish and his tears tricking him into seeing what he wanted to see.
But there she was. Smiling at him. Full of starlight.
And in that one breathless heartbeat, that single, small eternity, he remembered.
"I had a dream... That we were on a beach, watching the stars come out. There were so many of them, and they were all reflected in the ocean so it made it feel like we were out in space or something. But when I looked at you, you were...I don't really know how to explain it, honestly. It was like you were part of the sky, too. Transparent in a way, but full of stars. You were so happy, Mason."
He'd dreamed of this. Back in Alexandria, after making love with her for the first time... He'd dreamed...
Mason's grin widened, and suddenly the memories flooded him- she sent them in overwhelming waves, one after another after another after another. The good and the bad and the beautiful.
He saw her leaping out of that cornfield to save him. He saw her laughing at his jokes. He saw the fear the moment she realized she cared for him.
He saw her tucking flowers in his hair. Dancing to her music. Teaching him how to fight. Swinging her fire iron like a sword.
He saw her crying and covered in scars. He saw her grinning and covered in blood.
Moment after moment, joy after pain after joy, he saw her.
And it hurt. Fuck, it hurt more than anything.
But-
This time it was different.
There was happiness, too.
One tiny, glowing ember, and then another, and then another. Like stars emerging from the darkness, except they were inside of him. Suddenly, it wasn't Mason alone who was filled with starlight. He was swelling with it, breathless with it, he swore he must have wept it as he let the memories pour over him.
There was happiness.
There was happiness.
God, he'd almost forgotten what that felt like. At the touch of her hand, at the sight of her, the void inside of him had awakened into rich night. The abrupt, impossible difference left him dizzy.
And slowly...slowly...a realization began to take root in him.
He had lost Mason.
He would never fill that absence. He would never feel as though he hadn't died with her. He would miss her so badly every day for the rest of his life.
But...he had come back from the dead.
He had lost her.
He had also loved her.
He'd had the privilege, the honor, of loving her, of knowing her, and there wasn't a single part of him that would have taken a moment of that back.
He would have endured it all, any pain, just to do it all over again. Even this. And knowing that...
It was not goodbye.
He blinked, startled by the abruptness, the resolve of this revelation.
It was not goodbye.
It felt like it. He could not lie to himself about that.
But he had found her. In all this mess, through everything, he had found her.
Death could not keep them apart. Neither could the universe. They were stronger than the end.
He blinked again, and the vision of her disappeared, but the feeling of her hand clasped with his...that lingered. The memories lingered, too, and this time he did not shy from them.
She hadn't left him. She had come to him. She'd flipped his switch. And if she thought he was strong enough to keep going...maybe he was.
He was not healed. Not remotely. He didn't think he ever truly would be.
That was okay.
The hollowness remained, and the cold, but...
The possibility of stars. He had felt them burn to life in his chest. He had felt her singing in his blood, just when he'd thought he was dead.
It was not the end. It was not goodbye. He would see her again.
Slowly, he raised his tear-filled eyes to the stars. They had never seemed brighter. They had never felt more like a promise.
The song came to an end and another one started up, but he paused it.
There was a lot of work to do, he realized. Three weeks gone in a haze and he was still waking up from it, but...
She'd held his hand. Reminded him she was there, always. He could do this, so long as he remembered that.
He was not dead yet. They all had jobs. He would go back to the beach house and drag his family from the grave, whatever it took. For them, for Mason. He could do this. She believed in him.
But first, he would visit her grave. There was a song he needed to play for her.