Children of the Mirror
...15th Part: Krad...
Dark was laughing arrogantly, walking ahead of me as we traipsed through the back roads of the city, gradually making our way out of it. He was always talking about some kind of déjà vu feeling – Well; now I was feeling it.
"You should've seen their faces!" he was ranting. "They didn't know what to do with you!"
"That was the plan," I muttered, examining my cross again out of newly-developed habit. I didn't know what I expected to see in it, other than my reflection, which now looked slightly distorted from the damages of the pendant lying on the road.
And Dark was still mad at me for the loss of his motorcycle. He may look victorious, but by the way he kept his distance from me, I knew he hadn't gotten over his anger. I didn't mind the space, however. I still hated him for nearly killing me. I could still picture that car's tired coming at my face, clear as day.
I shivered.
"So, have you gotten any other ideas from that brilliant intuition of yours?" Dark was mocking me. He turned back to me, still half smirking to himself. "What are we looking for, damnit!?"
I sighed, walking right on by him. "I'm getting tired of repeating myself," I told him. "Just go with what impulse tells you," I suggested. "We might find it." Yes, I was getting irritated, too, but I had nothing else to strive for. If whatever it was we were searching for didn't actually exist, I wouldn't mind figuring that out years from now, on the day I die.
"Grand!" Dark bellowed. "Because I have nothing better to do than to follow you to the ends of the Earth!"
"Don't you?" I said, completely aware of how tired me voice sounded.
"Well... no," he grumbled. "Not anymore – but that doesn't mean I want to spend my life with you!" That last statement rose into a shout.
I stopped, but didn't face him.
"In my dreams, you're my worst enemy, and I hate you in reality!" he continued. "But for some reason, I chose you over my own parents! Everything I knew, I gave up for some arbitrary loner! I only kissed you because it was a game! I –"
"Stop!" I yelled, and to my surprise he abruptly shut up. I turned back and strode up to him, taking his collar in my fists. He was very close to my face. "I don't care," I snarled quietly. "I don't care what you want, and I don't care what you think – got it? Because maybe you are not the center of the world, Dark. You're not the only frustrated one here."
. . .
The days eventually began to slur into the nights. Dark and I hardly ever even looked at each other, let alone talked to each other. We were simply two animate forms that walked until they were too tired to walk, and slept until their dreams acted up and they began walking again. I didn't remember ever stopping to eat anything, but we must have, because neither of us was dying.
Somehow through our detachment, though, we never got separated; never lost the other.
And through the empty search I began to feel very alone. I got into the habit of sleeping fewer hours than Dark did, reading over again the compilation of Shakespeare that I'd kept with me just for the company of the characters who performed in my mind while I read.
Dark would nudge me awake when he got up, and on most nights I never even remembered falling asleep.
Our routine had become programmed into our minds; so much that it felt almost robotic.
And I still didn't know exactly what it was we were searching for, but it didn't feel like we were getting any closer...