Erebus on the Cusp of Dawn
by Hic Iacet Mori
Silence reveals what are best kept concealed, unkind in its telling, brutal in its gloating. It does not desist from telling you the harshest of truth—that perhaps it is silent because there is none to love you, that perhaps it is silent because there is none beside you.
Two months after he saw her standing by his brother's headstone, a box arrived on his doorstep.
The box, red and big as it sat innocently outside his door, was full of duct tape, as if a trigger-happy child had managed to grab the adhesive under his parents' careless noses and rolled it around the box to ensure that no one else can see what was inside. It was frustrating, to say the least, because Sasuke grew up under his brother's many repeated reminders, one of which was not to accept a suspicious object without first making sure it was safe for him and those around him.
It was a Sunday and he had all the time in the world to glare at it—sadly, the box had yet to explode two hours later, and annoyed that there was no available gap from which he could have a peek, or at least where he could slip a miniature camera his brother had told him to use on such occasions, he kicked the box in frustration.
Sasuke froze and immediately cringed at his possibly fatal mistake. He held his breath as the content of the box rattled. He exhaled when nothing else happened.
Giving up, he decided to finally carry the box inside his house. After leaving it in his living room, he took a pair of shears and began tearing through the infuriating tapes with a sinister vengeance. A couple of minutes later, his gloved hands put on a pair of safety goggles, bracing himself for exploding shrapnels, and threw the box open.
A familiar necklace immediately greeted his sight.
Sasuke mindlessly pulled down his goggles and watched dazedly as a shaking hand carefully touched it, lifting it up to the glare of the fluorescent light. Then, the same hand clutched it to his chest and a choked sob floated up his ears in the deafening silence of the afternoon. Droplets of water landed on the pale hand, and he felt a detached wonder when another hand touched his face and came away wet.
The poor hands, he thought.
It wasn't until they were numb that he realized they were his.
He loved her on his lap, since that night their entwined hands intimately touched her, naked and arching against his chest. He felt nearer to her somehow. Felt he could keep her safe, make her happy. He could feel it after all, her heart slamming against her chest with each breath, each touch, each strangled moan he could coax out of her.
Sasuke was a quick study and there was nothing he liked more than learning the secrets of her body.
She grounded against him. He grabbed her chin for an upside-down kiss. His lips landed on her nose.
A particularly vicious thrust had her curling her toes. She reached behind him and grabbed harshly at his nape.
She froze.
No, he thought wildly.
Glassy blue eyes slowly opened.
Nonono. Not yet. Not now. Nonononono—
Sasuke dragged her hand up to his hair. He ignored the sting of the fierce pull, sucking and biting on her neck as he thrust inside her once again. Her eyes fluttered shut.
The sting in his chest hurt damned more.
Two days had passed since he received the box.
It had been an excruciating afternoon, full of reminders of what he had lost and will never have again. Each trinket, each object had been his brother's, and each brought a memory and a fresh wave of tears pooling in his eyes. Sasuke had yet to finish by dinner, and not wanting her to worry about him, he stopped to wash his face and ate dinner outside. Not ready to return home, he spent an hour in the village park, simply soaking in the autumn night.
The moon was full tonight, glorious as it rested among the stars. Since the night he first woke up to her presence, Sasuke had come to appreciate the beauty of the night. He didn't even sleep by nine in the evening anymore—he had taken to waiting for her to arrive, and depending on what he was up to and what he was in the mood for, he would be reading as she provided the background music of her husky voice; or playing chess with her—Sasuke had been surprised at her level of competency; or simply talking, talking, talking about anything she brought up. They would do any of these, she waiting until his eyes grew heavy and Sasuke finally fell asleep.
And then he would wake up, close to the strike of midnight, either to her nightmares or her dreams in the room across his.
Sighing, he stood up and made his way home. He was fairly close to grumbling, twenty minutes later, as he reached uphill. His bicycle had a flat tire again.
He glanced at his watch. Damn, it was almost ten. He hadn't noticed the time.
He looked up and almost shrieked when her face suddenly appeared in front of him. He tried to calm his frantic heartbeat but her nearness, her body, her overwhelming scent of jasmines caused his heart to beat faster.
"Oi, fucking idiot," she greeted casually. Sasuke tried to glare but he was too dazed at her standing so close to him. And she was glowing too, from the light of the street lamp behind her. Like a goddess.
She threw an object. Sasuke was too distracted to stop it from hitting him in the chest. "Brought your shit," she said.
A foul-mouthed goddess.
The air pump smack on his chest woke him from his stupor. He blinked stupidly and picked it up, staring at it for a confused moment until his mind registered what it was, its purpose, and her loud guffaw at his apparent slowness. With an embarrassed glower, he knelt down to use the pump.
They returned moments later, Sasuke in his bicycle and her jumping on rooftops and sliding through trees, and both made for his room, he through his door and she through his window. He went to his bathroom and returned, ten minutes later, clad in his dark blue shirt and black boxers—she was already on her shadowy corner, watching him from behind her closed blue eyes.
He was glad for her presence, even if he was afraid he would start spilling his grief all over her once again. The return home had immediately reminded him of why he had chosen to eat out, and seeing the evidence of what he had done the whole day in his living room was threatening to overwhelm him once more. He didn't want to ask her for her comfort again, but her nearness was enough to lessen his hidden sorrow.
And so he turned to his bed, bade her a quiet good night, and slept. He slept fitfully, fighting against his bed sheets, and woke up in the middle of the night to shadowed blue skies peering down at him. It was the scent of jasmines that brought him to a calmer sleep.
Before he drifted off, a small smile formed on his lips.
Thank you.
Sasuke woke up, as he had done so since she stayed, around four in the morning to the emptiness she left behind. Rather than worrying over it and going back to a restless sleep, he decided to finish rummaging the box.
His eyes were too tired but a particular object brought fierce tears to his eyes—a plushie.
He knew that plushie. He himself had made it for his brother when Itachi turned fourteen, the first and last gift he had made with his hands. He was seven then, turning eight in a month, and he had no money to buy the gift he wanted to give his brother—a watch. It was while watching his show that he caught a commercial on DIY plushies and Sasuke, eager to please, decided to make one for his dear big brother.
It wasn't perfect but Itachi hadn't cared, and he had shown his gratitude in a warm smile and an affectionate ruffle on his hair. They had eaten out that day, and he basked in the happiness of seeing his brother admire the plushie of a potbellied Itachi.
He couldn't recall seeing it in the years that followed and Sasuke himself had forgotten about it—but it seemed Itachi had kept it after all these years. It was frayed at the edges, its colors faded, its beady eyes worn and tired. It had clearly been loved.
Just like him.
He couldn't remember how long he sat in his bed, grieving in silence, but the sun was up when he stood. After mechanically finishing his personal chores, he went down and made himself breakfast, the silence of his house ringing shrilly in his ears. He ate robotically, his food tasteless, and then washed his dishes. Once done, he went back to his room and began to prepare for school.
Only one object was left—a square box. It was flat in a nondescript brown with no tapes or staples to keep it closed. He briefly closed his eyes, battling the weariness washing over him, and removed its lid.
He took a sharp breath. It was a DVD.
That night, he ignored her presence by the shadows as he pretended to sleep. The plushie sat on his bureau, another silent watcher of his pretense.
She wasn't made for silence, that was clear to him, but she could be so silent sometimes and it brought an unnatural fear running through his veins.
He realized her silence was learned, impounded into her for reasons he didn't know. Whatever they were, he hated them already—she was made for laughter and music, snickers and yells. She wasn't supposed to moan so lowly, cry out so softly, gasp out so quietly. Whether through the nightmares in her mind or through the dreams his hands weaved, she shouldn't be controlling herself.
And it alarmed him, that control. Her actions were measured, her gestures calculated. They could highlight her unspoken words or divert from her speaking eyes, and they worked on him so well and he knew she wasn't as innocent as she appeared. She was silent in her loudness, dark in her brightness, sophisticated in her childishness—she was a paradox and her mystery beckoned him as much as it scared him.
And she was all woman underneath the travesty of her clothes.
Sasuke reached out, his eyes tender. There was no one to see it, and the only one who could had her eyes closed.
She was, he mused as moonlight gleamed on her creased brows, a blade.
His hand caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch.
She was the pure smile of a blade finding its mark, innocently cruel as it reflected its victim's face twisted in delightful horror.
"Usuratonkachi..."
He was the bright gleam of fresh blood pooling to her hilt, vibrant and warm and seductively beautiful.
"I won't let you go."
She was the blade and he was holding her and he couldn't let go.
His breath hitched as she leaned to his touch, her face soothed of her nightmares.
It was perfection—the red of his blood on the white of her smile.
Sasuke shook his head and chuckled softly.
Or he was perhaps just the juice of tomato.
It had been four days and he still hadn't opened the DVD. He was afraid of what he would see, afraid of what he would feel. He didn't want to grieve anymore—it was physically taxing, mentally scarring, emotionally draining. He couldn't take any more proof of the fact that his brother would never return anymore.
And yet, he found himself booting up his laptop, as if his subconscious had finally taken over his actions. He sighed. Prolonging the agony would just let the wound fester, and he should be man enough to face the music. Time won't wait for him, after all.
Besides, this could be what he needed to move on. He needed to, because he had to bring his brother's murderers to justice.
Sasuke automatically keyed in his password, and jumped in surprise at the sound of his desktop. Shaking his head ruefully, he took the DVD from its case and pressed the DVD drive open. He slid it in after a second's hesitation before pushing the drive close.
A pop-up window later and he was seeing the contents of the DVD.
The folders were arranged by file type, and he smiled a little at his brother's predictable obsessive-compulsive behavior. Steeling himself, he clicked the Pictures folder and clicked at a random file. He gasped.
It was him and his brother on an afternoon in the amusement park.
Sasuke closed the file in a panic. Nonono, he wasn't ready for this. Fuck, he wasn't ready at all. How could they do this to him? Wasn't it enough that his brother was gone? Did they have to throw it in his face, the life they had together and would never have again?
He wrapped his arms around his middle, desperately holding himself together. Wasn't it enough that he had no parents? Did they have to take his brother too?
He curled on his chair, burying his face as he heaved. He was through crying, he had no more tears to shed. And even if he had, he was done with it. He didn't want to cry anymore.
And hell, he didn't want to run away anymore too.
After managing to compose himself, Sasuke opened another folder, this time named Sources. It was full of documents with names like "How to Ascertain if your Suspect is Lying" and "Interrogation 101." He gave a watery smile. It was typical of his brother—he was looking for anything that would help him become a great detective.
Another folder named Notes yielded a list of names and pertinent information, some with remarks in red colored-font and some in black. Not in the mood to dwell on what he couldn't understand at first glance, he returned to the folders list and bypassed the other folders in favor of looking at the last one—Videos.
With mixed emotions, he opened the folder. It contained a video clip creatively named, "To My Foolish Otouto."
He took a shuddering breath. No question, then—this DVD was really made by his older brother and meant for his eyes. But could he do it? Watch this video? Sasuke knew what he would see, who he would see. Was he ready for it?
Hell, he couldn't even look at their pictures.
Sasuke slammed his laptop shut. He'll watch it tomorrow.
He was more desperate that night but she didn't seem to care. He only needed to know he was still alive and she was there to prove to him he was.
Only she could break him from the deafening silence.
Break the deafening silence with a loud clamor of denial, but remember that silence does not like to be lied to—either find someone to prove that someone out there loves you, or find someone out there who would choose to stay beside you.