Ch.8: The Meaning of Living
Playfully a hand tried to shake me awake. It sent light shooting straight into my eyes, and I gave a half-hearted groan. Giving it an annoyed swat, I mumbled something along the lines of "Leave me alone" and turned over. Soft, familiar laughter filled my ears, and instantly I was transported back in time, to another day like this. The lights would come on to wake the Instructors and staff of G.O.A at about four in the morning – and woke me as well. I spent the remaining three or four hours tossing and turning and grumbling to myself. It was a good thing Rio slept like a snoring log and Yu was too quiet (or out like a light) to complain. Only Ernest ever heard me, and he always tried to wake me from my half-drowsy state at six so I wouldn't be late. He'd laugh, that same lilting laugh that sounded like the music he had heard down in Zion and lulled me to sleep each night. He'd spend some time trying to get me awake, then take a shower, then come back and try again. By then it was almost seven, so Rio and Yu would be getting up, and finally I would drag myself out of the my bed and give Ernest a teasing swat again in his general direction and growl mock- menacingly. He would laugh and say he would wait for me. He was always there – the others always went ahead, sometimes to catch a bite of breakfast (which I usually missed) before going to class. Ernest skipped some bad-tasting, good-nutrition food for me, and we went to class together, whether late or not. Instructor Azuma would give us a look and order us another few laps when we ran.
As my eyes cracked open this morning, I felt the awareness of softness against my cheek and patted the white wing that tickled my cheek. "G'mornin'", I mumbled in return to Ernest's flowing laughter, and felt more than saw the hand that took my hand between his and clasped it like the last golden thread of light or something. I watched in wry amusement (still only half-awake) as his thumb stroked the top of my knuckles like a lover watching his beloved sleep. He gave me a beautiful, subtlely beautiful smile, radiating warmth and something akin to adoration. It gave something Rio liked to call "the warm fuzzy feeling" when Phil gave him a hug and said she was glad to see him alive. Of course, these times were rare, as were Ernest's true inner smiles like this one, and it gave me a sort of settled peace that made me close my eyes and just FEEL his hand caressing mine.
"You're so real", he whispered softly, and I smiled. Of course Ernest thought I was; I laughed loudly, I jumped, sprinted, ran around like a crazed five-year-old, and never sat still. I was a real, living boy to the very fullest. I lived my life like I would die tomorrow (which was actually very possible), and didn't waste a second of it. Ernest told me this before, clasping my hand as we ran down the hallway, late for our class. According to him, I saw things precisely as they were: every angle sharpened to its finest point, every color in its brightest, most vibrant hue. "Your skill is pinpointing things", he said with a smile that day. "If you don't overlook things too quickly, you can find many things that you can say are 'wrong' in your homework. You wouldn't get such a horrible grade if you went over it a second time carefully, Garu."
He laughed then, and I felt my insides give a little way. Ernest deserved happiness, and he could have all the laughs he wanted at my expense if it gave him just that. I smiled as he held it to his cheek as if to feel it better. He gave it a rub, relaxing it, then tickled the palm with an errant feather. I gave a squirm; I was highly ticklish and Ernest knew it.
"Get up, Garu. I want to show you something."
I took my hand from his and pretended a disinterested air. "Depends on what it is", I mumbled, and turned around again. His hands pulled me back and he looked at me with an intense look, as if he couldn't wait. I was a little surprised – rarely had I seen Ernest so excited about anything. This had better be good, I thought.
It will be, he said from his hand on my shoulder. You'll like it. His eyes held a secret enjoyment from keeping this from me. I gave an anguished moan and tried to roll back. He stopped me as his head came to rest on my shoulder in something like a hug. "Please", he whispered softly, and I closed my eyes. The white glare from the wings hurt my eyes too much.
Excuses are useless. Your friends don't need them and your enemies won't believe them.
Which was Ernest now? A storm of protests rose at this thought. He was a Victim, and they had consequentially been the ones who brought him back to life. Ernest knew that as well as I that if Ernest went back to G.O.A. there would be a lot of controversy – some people wouldn't like it, and other people would fight that. Ernest was my friend, and always would be. To me, it would not matter whether or not he was a Victim now or ever. But if he went back to G.O.A. and Zion, what would be the worst that could happen? He could be…killed. Again.
And then I came to the final conclusion: Ernest wouldn't be coming with me back to G.O.A.
Sadness threatened to steal the tears from my eyes and send them flowing. To my side Ernest read my distress and asked me what was wrong. We stopped in the middle of the walk, and the Eeva Leena loomed high above us.
"What's wrong?", he asked softly, and his hands hovered above my shoulders. Why wasn't he holding me and shaking me? He knew as well as anyone he didn't need my permission to touch me. On a sudden impulse of fierce affection, I snatched his hand from the fabric of my shirt and brought it to my lips. I gave it a kiss and nuzzled my cheek against it, and watched as Ernest's face froze at the act, then softened. Oh Ernest, my thoughts are constantly on you. You are not my lover, yet you remain as close as one. You are not my brother, yet we share an unspoken bond. You are not my shadow, yet we cling to each other like lifelines. We are so different, you and I, and yet we remain together, finding each other in the most unexpected ways, and in testing our bonds, we've found they're stronger than ever before.
On this note, does this mean that I should leave to let our bond grow stronger?
Ernest's eyes gave me a sad, frightened look and I pulled him into my arms. No, I couldn't bear to leave him again. He'd be worried, I could feel, he'd be wondering if I stepped onto the battlefield – would I survive to see him again? My friend, always worried about me. His arms gave a warmth, a comfort from the coldness of what I had to do: leave him. I leaned into his embrace and felt his wings enclose me further. Yes, I lived every moment like I would die the next, and there was no moment I would treasure more than this, ever.
Ernest took my hand and led me outside of the doors and into the planet named Hestia. I did not die from suffocation from the air. I did not die painfully as the pressure squeezed me the size of an old-fashioned soda can. I looked out over the stairs and the green fields and the trees and the rivers and started to cry.
Everything was so ALIVE. I expected everything here to be dull, artificial, like that tree Ernest liked to sit in and chat with Erts in. I expected the grass to look almost gray, the sky a dreary shade of cloud with some lame star as the source of light, and the rivers look like they were caught in a time-compression and sluggish. Instead I found every blade sharp in its angles and every splash of color all at once jumping out at me, vibrant and brilliant as the new day. The sky seemed to wave cheerfully at me, the sun seemed to smile, and the whole land seemed to spread out like red carpet in front of me. I closed my eyes and looked away. It looked like Zion, a planet so incredibly real. The colonies had flowers, it had an artificial sky, but the clouds stayed intact, and even though the flowers bloomed beautiful there, I always got that air of falsity around them. It wasn't the same now. Every scent, every wind seemed to strengthen my senses, and I stretched my awareness over this land, beautiful, so beautiful.
This was what I was going to destroy someday. The tears slipped down my cheeks. Live, beautiful land, live before I come back someday. That day will change for you, lovely land. That day there will be either two course of river: we take over you, or you become dust before our eyes.
Either way your inhabitants will die, Hestia. You are like the Eeva Leena, pretty planet Hestia. You have a strong will and an unrivalled imagination. Like the Old Planet's goddess that you were named after, you hold these people of yours together, and they are your family. You are the very definition of the hearth, and the comfort of home. You breathe with your people, Hestia; their pain is your pain, and when one dies far away, you can feel it, and you mourn.
I hardly noticed when Ernest came behind me and held me softly against him. He said nothing – his mental voice was silent, almost as if he were humming softly, and lax against mine. Ernest, Ernest – so like this land. Beautiful and soft and sweet, you feel for everything, my friend. You have come here and this planet has brought you back to life for me. And yet, I will return to kill it and all of its inhabitants, my friend. I am its sworn enemy. That will not change, my friend. What will you do, Ernest, when I return? Will you become one of these many in the fields, taken down as the earth under them erupts into red boils and covers their skin like blisters? Ernest, if you come with me, they will kill you, and yet if you stay here I might never get you back from this planet. You will start living for Hestia and its inhabitants, Ernest, and you will forget me. One day, the day I return, you will have forgotten, and when you see me, you will not be coming to greet me, but to destroy me.
My friend, I must have faith. But seeing this duplicate of Zion, I have no faith. I am Hestia's sworn enemy, yet I feel compassion for it. I leaned back desperately, as if Ernest's warmth could take away the plan I had in mind and put another in my place, something less tragic. This planet was only this beautiful because the Victims made it beautiful, this I knew now. How could I destroy God's own angels?
And suddenly I could see it. Colors, shifting rapidly in my mind as my eyes closed and my head rolled back in response to Ernest's touch. I needed this, I needed this warmth he gave as plans circulated in my head, one after another, each one more bloody and hopeless. Ernest gave me life, as the planet gave the Victims in their angelic forms their lives. Soft touches moved against my face, my lips, my neck sending soft shocks of warmth where they touched. Like magic, I thought, when my friend's mouth came up to kiss me again. The guilt and the reluctance to go back to G.O.A. disappeared, along with common sense. In this world that Ernest described to me wordlessly, I could stay as long as I wanted. There was no war, he told me as his hands whispered over my shirt. There was only the nature around us and him and me. No one else, I thought as I closed my eyes and the magic heated to a fierce, uncontrolled peak inside of me and then slowed down to the swift flow of a river between us. Ernest moved his head to my shoulder and I could smell all that made up him, my dearest friend.
The wings shifted in view. Don't think that they're Victim, he told me. Right now there's nothing but you and me and the grass under our feet.
I agreed wholehearted for the moment, and closed my eyes and rested my mind from troublesome dreams.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
WHOA! Before any of you start sending me flamers of "I thought this wouldn't be a yaoi story", it still isn't, even though Ernest and Garu...ahem. You realize that these two are very, very close. They give comfort to each other in any way they can. Ernest is only doing his job - and that is to provide Garu with anything that he needs that is in his power. Garu, in turn, accepts that gift in both gratitude and desperation - I mean, this might be the beginning of the end of his stay on Hestia.
Oh, yes. Hestia is the Greek goddess of the hearth, which means that she's the goddess of the family and of the home.
Anyways, if you read Ch.7 of "The Gate of Heavenly Peace", you'll realize I put just about the same thing on the bottom. Of course, that's different - Houjun and Kou actually love each other with a passion and all that. Ernest and Garu are the deepest sort of friends, the type that can read each other's thoughts right off the top of each other's heads (literally...). This is NOT because Ernest took this moment that Garu was weak and vulnerable and decided to have mind-blowing sex with him. GOT IT??? They're NOT a couple, they're just the deepest of friends, and understand each other's needs and wants profoundly.
Andrea Weiling
Playfully a hand tried to shake me awake. It sent light shooting straight into my eyes, and I gave a half-hearted groan. Giving it an annoyed swat, I mumbled something along the lines of "Leave me alone" and turned over. Soft, familiar laughter filled my ears, and instantly I was transported back in time, to another day like this. The lights would come on to wake the Instructors and staff of G.O.A at about four in the morning – and woke me as well. I spent the remaining three or four hours tossing and turning and grumbling to myself. It was a good thing Rio slept like a snoring log and Yu was too quiet (or out like a light) to complain. Only Ernest ever heard me, and he always tried to wake me from my half-drowsy state at six so I wouldn't be late. He'd laugh, that same lilting laugh that sounded like the music he had heard down in Zion and lulled me to sleep each night. He'd spend some time trying to get me awake, then take a shower, then come back and try again. By then it was almost seven, so Rio and Yu would be getting up, and finally I would drag myself out of the my bed and give Ernest a teasing swat again in his general direction and growl mock- menacingly. He would laugh and say he would wait for me. He was always there – the others always went ahead, sometimes to catch a bite of breakfast (which I usually missed) before going to class. Ernest skipped some bad-tasting, good-nutrition food for me, and we went to class together, whether late or not. Instructor Azuma would give us a look and order us another few laps when we ran.
As my eyes cracked open this morning, I felt the awareness of softness against my cheek and patted the white wing that tickled my cheek. "G'mornin'", I mumbled in return to Ernest's flowing laughter, and felt more than saw the hand that took my hand between his and clasped it like the last golden thread of light or something. I watched in wry amusement (still only half-awake) as his thumb stroked the top of my knuckles like a lover watching his beloved sleep. He gave me a beautiful, subtlely beautiful smile, radiating warmth and something akin to adoration. It gave something Rio liked to call "the warm fuzzy feeling" when Phil gave him a hug and said she was glad to see him alive. Of course, these times were rare, as were Ernest's true inner smiles like this one, and it gave me a sort of settled peace that made me close my eyes and just FEEL his hand caressing mine.
"You're so real", he whispered softly, and I smiled. Of course Ernest thought I was; I laughed loudly, I jumped, sprinted, ran around like a crazed five-year-old, and never sat still. I was a real, living boy to the very fullest. I lived my life like I would die tomorrow (which was actually very possible), and didn't waste a second of it. Ernest told me this before, clasping my hand as we ran down the hallway, late for our class. According to him, I saw things precisely as they were: every angle sharpened to its finest point, every color in its brightest, most vibrant hue. "Your skill is pinpointing things", he said with a smile that day. "If you don't overlook things too quickly, you can find many things that you can say are 'wrong' in your homework. You wouldn't get such a horrible grade if you went over it a second time carefully, Garu."
He laughed then, and I felt my insides give a little way. Ernest deserved happiness, and he could have all the laughs he wanted at my expense if it gave him just that. I smiled as he held it to his cheek as if to feel it better. He gave it a rub, relaxing it, then tickled the palm with an errant feather. I gave a squirm; I was highly ticklish and Ernest knew it.
"Get up, Garu. I want to show you something."
I took my hand from his and pretended a disinterested air. "Depends on what it is", I mumbled, and turned around again. His hands pulled me back and he looked at me with an intense look, as if he couldn't wait. I was a little surprised – rarely had I seen Ernest so excited about anything. This had better be good, I thought.
It will be, he said from his hand on my shoulder. You'll like it. His eyes held a secret enjoyment from keeping this from me. I gave an anguished moan and tried to roll back. He stopped me as his head came to rest on my shoulder in something like a hug. "Please", he whispered softly, and I closed my eyes. The white glare from the wings hurt my eyes too much.
Excuses are useless. Your friends don't need them and your enemies won't believe them.
Which was Ernest now? A storm of protests rose at this thought. He was a Victim, and they had consequentially been the ones who brought him back to life. Ernest knew that as well as I that if Ernest went back to G.O.A. there would be a lot of controversy – some people wouldn't like it, and other people would fight that. Ernest was my friend, and always would be. To me, it would not matter whether or not he was a Victim now or ever. But if he went back to G.O.A. and Zion, what would be the worst that could happen? He could be…killed. Again.
And then I came to the final conclusion: Ernest wouldn't be coming with me back to G.O.A.
Sadness threatened to steal the tears from my eyes and send them flowing. To my side Ernest read my distress and asked me what was wrong. We stopped in the middle of the walk, and the Eeva Leena loomed high above us.
"What's wrong?", he asked softly, and his hands hovered above my shoulders. Why wasn't he holding me and shaking me? He knew as well as anyone he didn't need my permission to touch me. On a sudden impulse of fierce affection, I snatched his hand from the fabric of my shirt and brought it to my lips. I gave it a kiss and nuzzled my cheek against it, and watched as Ernest's face froze at the act, then softened. Oh Ernest, my thoughts are constantly on you. You are not my lover, yet you remain as close as one. You are not my brother, yet we share an unspoken bond. You are not my shadow, yet we cling to each other like lifelines. We are so different, you and I, and yet we remain together, finding each other in the most unexpected ways, and in testing our bonds, we've found they're stronger than ever before.
On this note, does this mean that I should leave to let our bond grow stronger?
Ernest's eyes gave me a sad, frightened look and I pulled him into my arms. No, I couldn't bear to leave him again. He'd be worried, I could feel, he'd be wondering if I stepped onto the battlefield – would I survive to see him again? My friend, always worried about me. His arms gave a warmth, a comfort from the coldness of what I had to do: leave him. I leaned into his embrace and felt his wings enclose me further. Yes, I lived every moment like I would die the next, and there was no moment I would treasure more than this, ever.
Ernest took my hand and led me outside of the doors and into the planet named Hestia. I did not die from suffocation from the air. I did not die painfully as the pressure squeezed me the size of an old-fashioned soda can. I looked out over the stairs and the green fields and the trees and the rivers and started to cry.
Everything was so ALIVE. I expected everything here to be dull, artificial, like that tree Ernest liked to sit in and chat with Erts in. I expected the grass to look almost gray, the sky a dreary shade of cloud with some lame star as the source of light, and the rivers look like they were caught in a time-compression and sluggish. Instead I found every blade sharp in its angles and every splash of color all at once jumping out at me, vibrant and brilliant as the new day. The sky seemed to wave cheerfully at me, the sun seemed to smile, and the whole land seemed to spread out like red carpet in front of me. I closed my eyes and looked away. It looked like Zion, a planet so incredibly real. The colonies had flowers, it had an artificial sky, but the clouds stayed intact, and even though the flowers bloomed beautiful there, I always got that air of falsity around them. It wasn't the same now. Every scent, every wind seemed to strengthen my senses, and I stretched my awareness over this land, beautiful, so beautiful.
This was what I was going to destroy someday. The tears slipped down my cheeks. Live, beautiful land, live before I come back someday. That day will change for you, lovely land. That day there will be either two course of river: we take over you, or you become dust before our eyes.
Either way your inhabitants will die, Hestia. You are like the Eeva Leena, pretty planet Hestia. You have a strong will and an unrivalled imagination. Like the Old Planet's goddess that you were named after, you hold these people of yours together, and they are your family. You are the very definition of the hearth, and the comfort of home. You breathe with your people, Hestia; their pain is your pain, and when one dies far away, you can feel it, and you mourn.
I hardly noticed when Ernest came behind me and held me softly against him. He said nothing – his mental voice was silent, almost as if he were humming softly, and lax against mine. Ernest, Ernest – so like this land. Beautiful and soft and sweet, you feel for everything, my friend. You have come here and this planet has brought you back to life for me. And yet, I will return to kill it and all of its inhabitants, my friend. I am its sworn enemy. That will not change, my friend. What will you do, Ernest, when I return? Will you become one of these many in the fields, taken down as the earth under them erupts into red boils and covers their skin like blisters? Ernest, if you come with me, they will kill you, and yet if you stay here I might never get you back from this planet. You will start living for Hestia and its inhabitants, Ernest, and you will forget me. One day, the day I return, you will have forgotten, and when you see me, you will not be coming to greet me, but to destroy me.
My friend, I must have faith. But seeing this duplicate of Zion, I have no faith. I am Hestia's sworn enemy, yet I feel compassion for it. I leaned back desperately, as if Ernest's warmth could take away the plan I had in mind and put another in my place, something less tragic. This planet was only this beautiful because the Victims made it beautiful, this I knew now. How could I destroy God's own angels?
And suddenly I could see it. Colors, shifting rapidly in my mind as my eyes closed and my head rolled back in response to Ernest's touch. I needed this, I needed this warmth he gave as plans circulated in my head, one after another, each one more bloody and hopeless. Ernest gave me life, as the planet gave the Victims in their angelic forms their lives. Soft touches moved against my face, my lips, my neck sending soft shocks of warmth where they touched. Like magic, I thought, when my friend's mouth came up to kiss me again. The guilt and the reluctance to go back to G.O.A. disappeared, along with common sense. In this world that Ernest described to me wordlessly, I could stay as long as I wanted. There was no war, he told me as his hands whispered over my shirt. There was only the nature around us and him and me. No one else, I thought as I closed my eyes and the magic heated to a fierce, uncontrolled peak inside of me and then slowed down to the swift flow of a river between us. Ernest moved his head to my shoulder and I could smell all that made up him, my dearest friend.
The wings shifted in view. Don't think that they're Victim, he told me. Right now there's nothing but you and me and the grass under our feet.
I agreed wholehearted for the moment, and closed my eyes and rested my mind from troublesome dreams.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
WHOA! Before any of you start sending me flamers of "I thought this wouldn't be a yaoi story", it still isn't, even though Ernest and Garu...ahem. You realize that these two are very, very close. They give comfort to each other in any way they can. Ernest is only doing his job - and that is to provide Garu with anything that he needs that is in his power. Garu, in turn, accepts that gift in both gratitude and desperation - I mean, this might be the beginning of the end of his stay on Hestia.
Oh, yes. Hestia is the Greek goddess of the hearth, which means that she's the goddess of the family and of the home.
Anyways, if you read Ch.7 of "The Gate of Heavenly Peace", you'll realize I put just about the same thing on the bottom. Of course, that's different - Houjun and Kou actually love each other with a passion and all that. Ernest and Garu are the deepest sort of friends, the type that can read each other's thoughts right off the top of each other's heads (literally...). This is NOT because Ernest took this moment that Garu was weak and vulnerable and decided to have mind-blowing sex with him. GOT IT??? They're NOT a couple, they're just the deepest of friends, and understand each other's needs and wants profoundly.
Andrea Weiling