There is something ineffably wonderful about distractions, and I find I appreciate them too much.
0o0o0o
The painkillers dripping into Leon weren't enough, Yao wanted to say, but he didn't want to push the envelope after being allowed to stay. They'd looked at him with weary expressions when he'd begged, and the younger one had almost met his eye. He didn't want Leon to feel anything during this, or-he pushed it away, but the thought intruded again-or to have a painful exit from the world. At that, he held his tongue, bit it so hard it bled, watched with the foul taste of bile and panic in his throat as they readied to make the first cut. Ivan was near him, close enough for heat. He whispered 'Close your eyes.' Yao did not.
The first cut leaked crimson. Just a dot, sickeningly red. Irrationally, Yao thought of his silks.
He turned away, thinking he would be sick. That spot of red was branded into his vision, an image against Ivan's scarf, against his coat. He could still hear the surgery, and he curled inwards to try to hide from it.
Then there was Kiku beside him, staring away from the table. Yao looked at him with pained eyes and reached out, not sure what he was hoping for. Kiku made a soft sound of sorrow as Yao's hand gripped his so hard they thought both their bones would break.
He could hear Leon, hear the machinery being assembled. Quietly, he began to repeat you're going to survive, you're going to survive, not knowing who the chant was meant for anymore.
Yao didn't know how long it was until their surgeons' actions sounded desperate, and the weight crushed all the breath from his lungs. He closed his eyes and sank to his knees.
There was a terrible pain in his chest.
0o0o0o
Leon was floating. Dimly, he remembered video calls, questions, worried eyes and hidden hands behind backs. He remembered Kiku and his stupidly optimistic deal to save him. He remembered Yao, and his heart swelled. He remembered his entire life in the span of a few floating seconds. Court life, silks and stars and proverbs, purple eyes in the infirmary, sneaking around Yao's back to get out of meetings, laughter. He remembered and it filled him to bursting with sadness and happiness and everything in between.
Then came the pain. There was pain everywhere, chewing him up and remaking him different. It went on forever and ever and ever, and he felt himself being pulled to pieces. Something inside of him said to push upwards towards the pain, towards those memories, to where-if he strained-he could almost hear Yao.
Yao, oh, they'd be able to tease and laugh again.
But he tried to rise and his vision blacked out, and he was drifting again, and then Yao screamed, screamed, like his world was collapsing, and Leon found he couldn't reach for his voice any longer.
He floated away.
0o0o0o
Yao had opened his eyes.
Leon lay on the bed, chest and throat replaced with metal and plastic. He lay silently, almost peacefully. He looked normal again, save for the machinery. He looked asleep. The world was completely silent, the surgeons stepped back. The younger one shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.
'We did all we could.'
Yao gently laid his head on Leon's chest and waited. The silence stretched and stretched and stretched and there was no humming.
He just lay there. Yao turned his head slightly, listening even harder, not willing to believe even as some primal part of his brain was pushing a wracking sob up through his mouth and blurring Leon's peaceful, sleeping face with tears.
Yao barely heard Kiku fall to his knees.
'I'm sorry.'
Yao looked into the haunted eyes of the young surgeon, blankly, dully, and the sob tore through his throat and he folded over from the pain, the sheer pain, wailing, holding onto Leon's body like the lifeline he'd lost. The metal scraped over his skin.
It felt like hours before he could register what lay before him, days until Kiku held onto him, years until someone pried his hands off Leon's body while he screamed 'No! No! No!'. Being carried back to his rooms in arms that smelled more of metal than of sunflower took a lifetime. He couldn't stop crying.
The next day, Kiku woke him up and quietly told him the date of the funeral. Yao felt numb when he nodded.
0o0o0o
Ivan returned to the room and watched them cover the body and take it away. He watched them clean up the sheets, dotted with pinpricks of crimson, and throw them out. He watched the young surgeon collapse into screams on the floor as he begged forgiveness. He watched and then turned away.
Leon, Leon, Leon. His mind repeated all the things that went wrong, how they acted in desperation and fate hadn't saved him as it saved Ivan. Fate, he thought, rolling the word around in his mind, hating the taste and finally deciding that the universe had not decided Leon would fuse into a star.
There was a weight in his chest, where his heart usually rested. The air of the starship felt too stale. He felt claustrophobic, trapped. The questions beat against his mind, and he silenced them. It did not matter now whether Ivan could have saved him or if he had wanted to be. Leon was dead now.
Ivan wanted to sleep. He wanted to find the observatory and lay down under the nebulae and forget about what he'd done for a an hour, a day, a year. But he couldn't, of course.
Ivan started towards his own fleet. He would meet with his leader.
0o0o0o
Ivan told him everything.
'Trade routes, sicknesses weakening the population, in need of space and in need of our technology,' the man recited with a sharp smile.
'Not just for the sickness,' Ivan added quietly. 'For their starships, for their stars.'
'Observatories,' his leader corrected. He leaned across the table, eyeing Ivan like a bird of prey. Ivan did not flinch. It would be useless to pretend anything for this man. His sister would receive the boons, and his pain would always be the same no matter what rank he achieved.
'Observatories,' Ivan repeated. His leader sat back and continued inspecting him.
'You've been conspicuously absent from the fleet, Braginsky.'
'I am an ambassador,' Ivan said stiffly. His leader shook his head.
'You are more than an ambassador to nobleman Yao,' he said casually, flipping his device between his fingers. 'Just today, you accompanied him as you attempted to save a boy's life using unauthorized methods and technology, killing him in the process.'
'Everyone knew the risks,' Ivan said. His leader shook his head.
'Not him.'
They locked eyes across the table, silently challenging, warring, fighting the battle between want and have. His leader loathed him. Ivan felt nothing for the man.
'How far will you go for him, Braginsky?' his leader wondered quietly. 'How much will you do? What will you sacrifice?' Ivan did not respond, and the man laughed. 'You may go.'
Ivan did.
0o0o0o
'The last lesson didn't teach you.'
Ivan refused to look at them. Resisting them would only bring more retribution-these visits were his leader's mocking promise to him. Every time he was called, every time the man was reminded that Ivan had seen Earth, there was a punishment. For all fleet leaders love Earth, but some more dangerously than others.
'We heard you were working on another of your machines. Why would you turn another into what you are?'
'I mean no harm,' Ivan whispered. They laughed softly, and he barely deflected the first strike to his neck.
'Braginsky.'
0o0o0o
The days before the funeral passed in a daze. Yao couldn't force himself to do anything. He woke up, remembered, tried in vain to complete work, and slept fitfully. The only solace was Kiku. They never discussed it, but Yao knew the young man was taking his work along with his own, and was immeasurably grateful but could find no good way to properly thank the young man.
Kiku stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Yao scratched out a final figure on the paper he'd been working on for the last two days and rose to go sit with his prodigy.
'Hello.'
'Hello, Kiku.' Yao felt a tiny bit of the weight on his chest lift. 'How are you?'
Kiku hesitated. 'The funeral is tomorrow,' he finally said. Yao felt the familiar ache rush through him.
'Oh.'
'Yes.' Kiku dipped his head, staring at his hands. 'You are one of the carriers.'
'It is a great honour,' Yao said tiredly. The image of Leon reduced to mere ashes made a lump rise in his throat. 'You are, too?'
'Yes. His father and mother are, as well, along with the boy transferred in on a medical trade from the Nordic fleets.'
'Who?' Yao asked, too drained to try to figure out who it was.
'The boy with purple eyes. He came in with Tino. I believe his name is Emil.'
'Oh, him. He seemed to be good to Leon, I don't see any trouble in…' Yao trailed off, more pain welling in his stomach. 'Letting him say goodbye in the most final way possible,' he finished.
'Goodbye.' Kiku tested the word. 'Yes, I think that's what it is.'
'Goodbye,' Yao whispered. He couldn't force himself to say the name that still hung like spun glass and rose thorns in his mind.
They sat for a long time, not making conversation, just allowing themselves to be within the presence of someone else who understood. When Kiku left, Yao fumbles through some more paperwork before sleeping again.
0o0o0o
He always went to the observatory afterwards. As soon as he could breathe again, he lost himself in the stars to take it away another way.
Ivan's chest creaked and sparked. He knew he had all but staggered there. They always targeted his chest, his neck. He was almost glad Leon would never have to endure that before shoving the thought away.
He would have to fix the wires himself this time. Ivan was no stranger to it, but the memories of Yao's gentle touch made his own, painkiller-free operations all the more starkly different.
'Ivan.'
Ivan raised his head without looking at Yao. He felt strangely at peace. 'Yao.'
The brightness settled down beside him. Ivan did not dare take his eyes off the space above them. Slowly, slowly, a cloud began to seep across the glass. Ivan was too aware of the painful noises his machinery was making. The nebula was farther away, blurry, and they sat in silence and alliance of awe as the stars lived above them.
Finally, when the glass was dark again, Yao stood and extended a hand. Ivan took it and finally looked at him, at his golden silks and amber eyes and calmness.
'Come, Ivan.'
Ivan followed.
0o0o0o
Ivan's rooms were as bare and wintery as ever, but the blankness was strangely comforting. Yao arranged needles and bottles and breathed deeply. He turned to Ivan, who was still and calm.
Yao touched his crown, his cheekbones, his lips. His hands brushed the back of his neck, and Ivan breathed in sharply.
'So careless,' Yao scolded wearily. His voice was quiet.
Ivan knelt, silently offering the frayed wires at the back of his neck to the slighter man.
'So reckless, so headstrong,' Yao continued. He did not ask who this time, there was no need to. His voice shook but his hands were steady, picking apart the shredded coverings, cleaning them carefully of blood. Ivan's eyesight nearly gave out. His head felt as if it was to split open. Still, he did not move.
Yao painstakingly replaced the coverings and put him back together. The needle made a popping sound as it threaded his flesh. Ivan did not speak until it was done, until Yao's soft lips pressed against the crown of his head a moment later.
'So strong, Ivan,' he murmured. Tears dropped from his eyes.
0o0o0o
Whether it's something that takes us away, or fantasy worlds-I end up caught in distraction.
:: The heaviness of being asleep for too long
