....................................................................................................................
Inside, beyond the gnaw of cold, was the familiar sensation of emptiness. Hollow. Was that what it was, the term seemed to fiercely hold a stinging indignation. When what little contentment you had, vanishes? I shivered, jarring from my thoughts, as the fine hair along the nape of my neck bristled, before I stubbornly drew my arms up around me, in a feeble attempt to thwart the cold, sparking fatigue. Though snowfall had ceased, it had been replaced by the faint drizzle of rain pattering lightly against the top of my head. The rainfall trickled down through the blanket of milky white trees all around, causing loosened clumps of snow to cascade to the ground beneath them. I lifted my head slowly, urging my legs into motion to ascend the small stone stairs, which were only four in number, yet seemed an insurmountable obstacle to the growing weakness in my limbs.
Then, crossing the small, tenuous pathway to the heavyset wooden door, I briefly absorbed the make of my surroundings. Before me, amid such a startling atmosphere, stood a miniature, rustic in appearance, log cabin, which, altogether was perplexing. I Paused for a moment to gather my thoughts, and attempt to ignore the doubts manifesting in my mind, I shifted my weight uneasily, the heel of my boot making a light grating sound along the ground as I stepped forward uncertainly, clasping the frigid, doorknob fixedly in the equally cold expanse of my palm, my fingers interlacing around the steel, and slowly, with utmost care, I gave it a small twist. To my surprise, the door parted open with an indecisive creak, and I mechanically took a hesitant step back. It was peculiar, that he had left the door open, I speculated, searching my mind for a reasonable explanation, yet I decided to try and shrug it off to the best of my ability. With meager reluctance, I broke stance, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me with a dull nudge of my shoe. It closed with a soft click, which seemed to echo around me. Struggling to adjust my eyes to the moderately dim receptacle, save the sallow light of midday pouring generously in through a single window, I paused at the threshold to scrape a few scattered flakes of snow from the material of my jacket. Repetitively, I tossed several strands of hair from my eyes, yet I lingered the heel of my palm along the base of my forehead, gathering a handful of hair between my entwined fingers. Almost as if to quell myself, I knew I shouldn't be here. But would it be so wrong to stay? Would he even want me to stay? I scanned the room, finding it to be empty for the moment, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. I'm finding I'm no longer afraid. With every step this becomes clearer. And more startling at the same time. All the fear has left me now. I raised my head with earnest effort; I'm surprised to find that I'm almost ashamed to even be here. I took a tiny step forward, soaking in the surroundings.
Toward the center of the room sat a narrow, wire bed, the sheets drawn up and tucked beneath the twin, ivory pillows, creased in obvious perfection, which seemed, of course, as to be expected. Adjacent to the headboard stood a wobbly, wooden beside table, which remained bare of any objects. I stepped forward silently, taking my time as if in some effort not to disturb the secluded environment, and I purposefully dodged the mirror against the wall to the left, not wanting to be startled by the reflection. I'm frightened. By what my eyes have found. What they have seen. So I choose not to look anymore. I turned to the right, noticing an oak desk, the matching chair pulled out to the side at a conflicting angle. I reached out, moving the chair away from my position as to not obstruct my path, so I could study the objects before me.
The desktop was nearly bare, except for a menagerie of scattered, loose papers splayed out in different directions. On the surface, was the computer's monitor, still dark, the case leaning beside it. I paused before this, and reached out, studying the empty screen, as I proceeded to stare blankly at my outstretched hand, before running my quivering fingers along the keys, in recollection. They were cold to the touch. Involuntarily, a ravaged sigh escaped my slightly parted, frozen lips, and I was startled momentarily, the tinny sound hardly seemed to register. It didn't even sound like me. When had I changed so much? That even my voice had been robbed of its familiar quality? And what remains? A shadow I don't recognize. I took a stumbling step backward, attempting to calm the panic churning within, as I turned, hunching my his shoulders forward in a slouch, my gaze diverted to the floor. That was when I caught sight of something beside the leg of the bed. I leant down, steadying myself, and reached out shakily, gathered the heap of rumpled material into my coiled hands. I focused on the familiar garment, a white, long sleeved cotton shirt, causing me to shudder in spite of myself. I regained my posture, as I slowly rose to my feet on precarious limbs, straining with the effort. I distractedly stepped toward the bed before me, clutching the piece of clothing closer to my sides with fragile care, while I reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the line along the ivory pillows nestled against the bed. My hands continued trembling, much to my regret. What's left for me now? Sympathy is wasted on me. I stared down at my curled fingers, tapering them along the edges of the fabric. Shorted with hesitation, I gingerly withdrew the article of clothing from the nook of my arm, and folded it against my side, before wadding it in a ball, placing in the slip of the first inner breast pocket of my jacket. I paused momentarily to brush my palm over the soft material of the first pillow. Then, Backing up abruptly, my shoes grazing the floor, I scanned the room a final time, before I spun around languidly, and crossed the distance between the bedstead and the closed door. Pulling the door apart with mediocre effort, I stepped back outside, and into the storm, which had now advanced in magnitude and force.
I closing the door behind me, as I sharply turned the corner along the side of the house. My boots sank into the undisturbed snow, giving way on the untrodden pathway, creating dull crunching sounds beneath my footfall. When I reached the back of the house, I noticed the hill gave way to a steady incline, and I once again found myself striking my hands together in a futile attempt to regain warmth. I looked down quizzically; my gaze met a break in the steady, carpeted white ground, marked by a trail of consistent footprints, leading away from the rear of the cabin and down the slope of the hill. Shifting my weight, I approached the hill, offset at a precarious angle, and slid down the side, my shoes sinking deeply into the mounds of snow, my ankles slipping into the soft earth. I regained my stance, then as if galvanized into action, I jogged the distance down the foot of the hill, eager to see where to the footprints finally lead, which had followed consecutively along the distance down the slope. The imprints began once more, set into the ground before me, then curved off beyond the first, towering spike of a fir tree at the bed of the hill. I paused uncertainly, while studying the scattered, spare forest ahead, and with hesitance, I traced the indented footprints with my own along past the first ivory clad tree. But what happens if I do locate what I'm looking for here? There's only one way to find out. I'm having trouble dealing with these changes, it's hard to accept what's before me, but I feel I must, in order to face what tomorrow might bring.
Ignoring the sting of cold at my exposed features, I wove around the scarce, narrowly sparse trees, yet kept a watchful eye on my intended path, until I paused briefly, where the array of trunks broke way in a small circle. I gazed up toward the canopy around me, studying in silent fascination the faint, oncoming raindrops dappling down from above, intermittent with the pale glow of the hidden sun, concealed by dense, thick, gray clouds overhead. I subconsciously extracted my hands from my pockets, raising them to my sides suddenly, as I felt the onslaught of the thrumming rain intensify, until my hair was plastered lightly to my forehead. All around, trees loomed up, poking and striking against the skyline like spears, occasionally shedding their snowy blankets. I bent my head under the receding drizzle, focusing on my sinking shoes in the ground, while shifting my position in the ankle deep snow. Absently, I lifted my arm out before me, holding my palm open, watching with odd fascination as remnants of the downpour gathered in the crevices of my hand, then spilled over the side. I froze just then, as I heard a low sound off to my left, an additional pair of footsteps joining my own.
Somehow, in some incomprehensible and unimaginable way, I wasn't shocked, why should I be? I came here on my own. I knew what I was getting myself into. I Slowly turned my head to face him, the rain, which ran in rivulets between my temple, plastered stray, sticky strands of my bangs in my eyes. I was no longer afraid. Only, afraid to let him see me like this. How much had my appearance changed? How much had I been changed from the inside out? I'd aged so much since then. Turning to look at him, I know now, I will have to face this. I will face my fears, as my fears stand before me. I spun around carefully to look at him. But it's strangely comforting, in some way, He doesn't appear to have aged a day.
Heero's eyebrow furrowed as he gazed forward, fixing on my figure. I couldn't move. His own features had slowly grown with the passage of time. His dark brown hair was slightly longer, yet his features hadn't changed at all. He shifted his weight to his right foot, his slender arms drawn up tightly against his chest, concealing the sculpt of his build, his hands hidden from view in the lump of his wool sweater. Why haven't you changed? This makes things so much more difficult. His eyes slowly drifted over to meet mine, crossing the few feet which separated us. I tried to restrain my shivering, whether it was the cold, or that fact that I didn't know how much longer I could stand this silence. I locked gaze with him suddenly, after I noticed he was staring directly at me. What lies behind those eyes? Deep Blue. If anything, time had seemed only to add to their magnitude. I hung my head then. I'm afraid of what you might think of me now. I don't want you to see me like this. You wouldn't recognize me. Your eyes don't hold the cares they do now. The bitterness of one who's left alone. I've come to you for guidance. Or maybe retribution? But I don't know where to begin. Maybe you could meet me halfway? I've got a lot to lose, but none of it matters anymore. Tell me where to begin, it's foolish to ask this of you, but almost implore it. What would an angel say to that? The devil wants to know.
Those simple words, repeated over an over in my mind, words echoing, until they lost all literal meaning. How could this be? You wouldn't even want me here anymore, would you? I can't say that I blame you. Maybe I shouldn't turn around. But it's too late for any of that. I'm too far-gone. Too far gone to care. Why would you even have me? When it seems like yesterday, but it really was so long ago. I would change myself, if I could. But I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. I guess I lost my way. Could you show me the way back? Could I find shelter here? I know I don't deserve it, but I would do anything to make it so.
The distance in your eyes.
And the fault is mine. I felt my hand withdraw from my side, extending my quaking palms to support my forehead disbelief. I felt my fatigued legs fall slack then as I lost my balance, sliding into the masses around me, the mesh of soft earth catching my fall. I vaguely recalled seeing Heero's footsteps moving erratically toward my fallen form, and then fueled toward my side suddenly by the dull thump of my frame colliding into the mounds of snow as I slumped over. My vision blurred, and I stared up bleakly at the towering trees, as swaths of crimson washed over my vision, and I wondered, if the sky had momentarily caught on fire, or if it was simply a mirage before consciousness failed. And I find myself silently wishing for it to end just now. Was I slipping farther away? Lying here on the swollen ground. The surroundings are shifting, all I can see now are shapes. Just shapes, drifting into one another. I'm blending, bleeding, into the scenery. Would it even matter? Is this the part where I die? I would have laughed at myself, if I hadn't lost all feeling in my limbs. I looked up, as I saw Heero cautiously leaning above me, the outline of his face fading, but I can still make out your wavy face. His features softened just then, as I saw his hands lowered, reaching out to me. With what strength is left, I can't deny what I feel. I numbly raised my hand from my side, struggling to meet my palm with his. I'm losing it. Help me. I'm so out of touch. I never told you, that maybe you were always the light on the dark side of me. Why can't I see that light anymore? I'm barely breathing. I can't find the air. My lungs feel strained. I felt my head loll back, connecting with the ground, a lifeless thud. I gazed up absently, watching as the shapes above me swirl, twisting and turning into one another until my vision was dyed red, before blackness blotted out all. The infinite darkness. The beacon, the familiarity, is all that is left to me. It is all that I know. Welcome home.
....................................................................................................................
Inside, beyond the gnaw of cold, was the familiar sensation of emptiness. Hollow. Was that what it was, the term seemed to fiercely hold a stinging indignation. When what little contentment you had, vanishes? I shivered, jarring from my thoughts, as the fine hair along the nape of my neck bristled, before I stubbornly drew my arms up around me, in a feeble attempt to thwart the cold, sparking fatigue. Though snowfall had ceased, it had been replaced by the faint drizzle of rain pattering lightly against the top of my head. The rainfall trickled down through the blanket of milky white trees all around, causing loosened clumps of snow to cascade to the ground beneath them. I lifted my head slowly, urging my legs into motion to ascend the small stone stairs, which were only four in number, yet seemed an insurmountable obstacle to the growing weakness in my limbs.
Then, crossing the small, tenuous pathway to the heavyset wooden door, I briefly absorbed the make of my surroundings. Before me, amid such a startling atmosphere, stood a miniature, rustic in appearance, log cabin, which, altogether was perplexing. I Paused for a moment to gather my thoughts, and attempt to ignore the doubts manifesting in my mind, I shifted my weight uneasily, the heel of my boot making a light grating sound along the ground as I stepped forward uncertainly, clasping the frigid, doorknob fixedly in the equally cold expanse of my palm, my fingers interlacing around the steel, and slowly, with utmost care, I gave it a small twist. To my surprise, the door parted open with an indecisive creak, and I mechanically took a hesitant step back. It was peculiar, that he had left the door open, I speculated, searching my mind for a reasonable explanation, yet I decided to try and shrug it off to the best of my ability. With meager reluctance, I broke stance, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me with a dull nudge of my shoe. It closed with a soft click, which seemed to echo around me. Struggling to adjust my eyes to the moderately dim receptacle, save the sallow light of midday pouring generously in through a single window, I paused at the threshold to scrape a few scattered flakes of snow from the material of my jacket. Repetitively, I tossed several strands of hair from my eyes, yet I lingered the heel of my palm along the base of my forehead, gathering a handful of hair between my entwined fingers. Almost as if to quell myself, I knew I shouldn't be here. But would it be so wrong to stay? Would he even want me to stay? I scanned the room, finding it to be empty for the moment, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. I'm finding I'm no longer afraid. With every step this becomes clearer. And more startling at the same time. All the fear has left me now. I raised my head with earnest effort; I'm surprised to find that I'm almost ashamed to even be here. I took a tiny step forward, soaking in the surroundings.
Toward the center of the room sat a narrow, wire bed, the sheets drawn up and tucked beneath the twin, ivory pillows, creased in obvious perfection, which seemed, of course, as to be expected. Adjacent to the headboard stood a wobbly, wooden beside table, which remained bare of any objects. I stepped forward silently, taking my time as if in some effort not to disturb the secluded environment, and I purposefully dodged the mirror against the wall to the left, not wanting to be startled by the reflection. I'm frightened. By what my eyes have found. What they have seen. So I choose not to look anymore. I turned to the right, noticing an oak desk, the matching chair pulled out to the side at a conflicting angle. I reached out, moving the chair away from my position as to not obstruct my path, so I could study the objects before me.
The desktop was nearly bare, except for a menagerie of scattered, loose papers splayed out in different directions. On the surface, was the computer's monitor, still dark, the case leaning beside it. I paused before this, and reached out, studying the empty screen, as I proceeded to stare blankly at my outstretched hand, before running my quivering fingers along the keys, in recollection. They were cold to the touch. Involuntarily, a ravaged sigh escaped my slightly parted, frozen lips, and I was startled momentarily, the tinny sound hardly seemed to register. It didn't even sound like me. When had I changed so much? That even my voice had been robbed of its familiar quality? And what remains? A shadow I don't recognize. I took a stumbling step backward, attempting to calm the panic churning within, as I turned, hunching my his shoulders forward in a slouch, my gaze diverted to the floor. That was when I caught sight of something beside the leg of the bed. I leant down, steadying myself, and reached out shakily, gathered the heap of rumpled material into my coiled hands. I focused on the familiar garment, a white, long sleeved cotton shirt, causing me to shudder in spite of myself. I regained my posture, as I slowly rose to my feet on precarious limbs, straining with the effort. I distractedly stepped toward the bed before me, clutching the piece of clothing closer to my sides with fragile care, while I reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the line along the ivory pillows nestled against the bed. My hands continued trembling, much to my regret. What's left for me now? Sympathy is wasted on me. I stared down at my curled fingers, tapering them along the edges of the fabric. Shorted with hesitation, I gingerly withdrew the article of clothing from the nook of my arm, and folded it against my side, before wadding it in a ball, placing in the slip of the first inner breast pocket of my jacket. I paused momentarily to brush my palm over the soft material of the first pillow. Then, Backing up abruptly, my shoes grazing the floor, I scanned the room a final time, before I spun around languidly, and crossed the distance between the bedstead and the closed door. Pulling the door apart with mediocre effort, I stepped back outside, and into the storm, which had now advanced in magnitude and force.
I closing the door behind me, as I sharply turned the corner along the side of the house. My boots sank into the undisturbed snow, giving way on the untrodden pathway, creating dull crunching sounds beneath my footfall. When I reached the back of the house, I noticed the hill gave way to a steady incline, and I once again found myself striking my hands together in a futile attempt to regain warmth. I looked down quizzically; my gaze met a break in the steady, carpeted white ground, marked by a trail of consistent footprints, leading away from the rear of the cabin and down the slope of the hill. Shifting my weight, I approached the hill, offset at a precarious angle, and slid down the side, my shoes sinking deeply into the mounds of snow, my ankles slipping into the soft earth. I regained my stance, then as if galvanized into action, I jogged the distance down the foot of the hill, eager to see where to the footprints finally lead, which had followed consecutively along the distance down the slope. The imprints began once more, set into the ground before me, then curved off beyond the first, towering spike of a fir tree at the bed of the hill. I paused uncertainly, while studying the scattered, spare forest ahead, and with hesitance, I traced the indented footprints with my own along past the first ivory clad tree. But what happens if I do locate what I'm looking for here? There's only one way to find out. I'm having trouble dealing with these changes, it's hard to accept what's before me, but I feel I must, in order to face what tomorrow might bring.
Ignoring the sting of cold at my exposed features, I wove around the scarce, narrowly sparse trees, yet kept a watchful eye on my intended path, until I paused briefly, where the array of trunks broke way in a small circle. I gazed up toward the canopy around me, studying in silent fascination the faint, oncoming raindrops dappling down from above, intermittent with the pale glow of the hidden sun, concealed by dense, thick, gray clouds overhead. I subconsciously extracted my hands from my pockets, raising them to my sides suddenly, as I felt the onslaught of the thrumming rain intensify, until my hair was plastered lightly to my forehead. All around, trees loomed up, poking and striking against the skyline like spears, occasionally shedding their snowy blankets. I bent my head under the receding drizzle, focusing on my sinking shoes in the ground, while shifting my position in the ankle deep snow. Absently, I lifted my arm out before me, holding my palm open, watching with odd fascination as remnants of the downpour gathered in the crevices of my hand, then spilled over the side. I froze just then, as I heard a low sound off to my left, an additional pair of footsteps joining my own.
Somehow, in some incomprehensible and unimaginable way, I wasn't shocked, why should I be? I came here on my own. I knew what I was getting myself into. I Slowly turned my head to face him, the rain, which ran in rivulets between my temple, plastered stray, sticky strands of my bangs in my eyes. I was no longer afraid. Only, afraid to let him see me like this. How much had my appearance changed? How much had I been changed from the inside out? I'd aged so much since then. Turning to look at him, I know now, I will have to face this. I will face my fears, as my fears stand before me. I spun around carefully to look at him. But it's strangely comforting, in some way, He doesn't appear to have aged a day.
Heero's eyebrow furrowed as he gazed forward, fixing on my figure. I couldn't move. His own features had slowly grown with the passage of time. His dark brown hair was slightly longer, yet his features hadn't changed at all. He shifted his weight to his right foot, his slender arms drawn up tightly against his chest, concealing the sculpt of his build, his hands hidden from view in the lump of his wool sweater. Why haven't you changed? This makes things so much more difficult. His eyes slowly drifted over to meet mine, crossing the few feet which separated us. I tried to restrain my shivering, whether it was the cold, or that fact that I didn't know how much longer I could stand this silence. I locked gaze with him suddenly, after I noticed he was staring directly at me. What lies behind those eyes? Deep Blue. If anything, time had seemed only to add to their magnitude. I hung my head then. I'm afraid of what you might think of me now. I don't want you to see me like this. You wouldn't recognize me. Your eyes don't hold the cares they do now. The bitterness of one who's left alone. I've come to you for guidance. Or maybe retribution? But I don't know where to begin. Maybe you could meet me halfway? I've got a lot to lose, but none of it matters anymore. Tell me where to begin, it's foolish to ask this of you, but almost implore it. What would an angel say to that? The devil wants to know.
Those simple words, repeated over an over in my mind, words echoing, until they lost all literal meaning. How could this be? You wouldn't even want me here anymore, would you? I can't say that I blame you. Maybe I shouldn't turn around. But it's too late for any of that. I'm too far-gone. Too far gone to care. Why would you even have me? When it seems like yesterday, but it really was so long ago. I would change myself, if I could. But I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. I guess I lost my way. Could you show me the way back? Could I find shelter here? I know I don't deserve it, but I would do anything to make it so.
The distance in your eyes.
And the fault is mine. I felt my hand withdraw from my side, extending my quaking palms to support my forehead disbelief. I felt my fatigued legs fall slack then as I lost my balance, sliding into the masses around me, the mesh of soft earth catching my fall. I vaguely recalled seeing Heero's footsteps moving erratically toward my fallen form, and then fueled toward my side suddenly by the dull thump of my frame colliding into the mounds of snow as I slumped over. My vision blurred, and I stared up bleakly at the towering trees, as swaths of crimson washed over my vision, and I wondered, if the sky had momentarily caught on fire, or if it was simply a mirage before consciousness failed. And I find myself silently wishing for it to end just now. Was I slipping farther away? Lying here on the swollen ground. The surroundings are shifting, all I can see now are shapes. Just shapes, drifting into one another. I'm blending, bleeding, into the scenery. Would it even matter? Is this the part where I die? I would have laughed at myself, if I hadn't lost all feeling in my limbs. I looked up, as I saw Heero cautiously leaning above me, the outline of his face fading, but I can still make out your wavy face. His features softened just then, as I saw his hands lowered, reaching out to me. With what strength is left, I can't deny what I feel. I numbly raised my hand from my side, struggling to meet my palm with his. I'm losing it. Help me. I'm so out of touch. I never told you, that maybe you were always the light on the dark side of me. Why can't I see that light anymore? I'm barely breathing. I can't find the air. My lungs feel strained. I felt my head loll back, connecting with the ground, a lifeless thud. I gazed up absently, watching as the shapes above me swirl, twisting and turning into one another until my vision was dyed red, before blackness blotted out all. The infinite darkness. The beacon, the familiarity, is all that is left to me. It is all that I know. Welcome home.
....................................................................................................................