I've always felt a strange affinity for rocks.
Hear me out. Too many people take one look at me and associate me with foliage; they think I'm freshly bloomed flowers or lush unending meadows. They observe me for a little bit and think they know me. They think that I'm 'a breath of fresh air' or 'spring coming into full bloom' just because I don't like boring. Too many guys I've met before have thought of me as a concept, as someone who will bring them to life, as somebody who will complete them.
I'm not going to do that. I'm concerned with bringing myself to life; why the hell should I have to carry the burden of having to enliven another person's mundane life, just because they're too damn lazy to do it themselves?
Foliage is beautiful, sure, but it's fragile. There is only one certainty about foliage, and that is it will assuredly wither over time.
Rocks are admirably impervious. Kick them, step on them, try as you may to break them apart; they're unchanging, untouchable. But more importantly, they understand what it is to be human: to be solitary. Anyone who believes that I can complete him is deluded. Nobody can complete another person. People are born alone, and we die alone. There's no such thing as 'completion' of yourself in finding your 'other half'. We're made solitary, our own being, and it's foolish to believe in needing to be completed by someone else. We need to complete ourselves.
That's why I like Garmon Mine District. The place itself is made of rocks; the place itself is a rock. It's solitary from the rest of Castanet Island – the people who live there are all rocks. Most of them understand the conditions of being human: born alone, die alone. Dale, Mira, Ramsey; they've weathered enough pain in this life to know that to believe part of them exists in another person is to leave themselves vulnerable to pain and anguish. They've seen their 'other halves' die alone. They've seen themselves live alone. They know that to be human is to be alone.
I sat perched atop a particularly large boulder, quietly observing tranquil life passing through the Garmon Mine District. I watched as Dale and Bo passed by, Dale nodding at me in greeting. I offered him a quick smile, thinking about his wife. Died early and painfully, he'd told me. His eyes crinkled momentarily in response before they dropped back to their usual saddened position, Bo and him continuing on their way.
"How'd you get up there?"
I casted my gaze down to the bottom of the boulder, meeting feline amber eyes and electric blue hair secured by a realistic flame-patterned bandana. I didn't bother replying such a mundane question.
Luke wasn't anything if not persistent. "What're you doing all the way up there?" he persevered honorably.
"Just being poetically melancholic," I mused, only half sarcastic. I went back to my people watching.
"Man. That's pretty impressive. I've never been able to get up there myself," he muttered.
"Mm hmm," I granted in reply, continuing my coolly fixed gaze on the Garmon Mine District, watching as Owen made his way to the mines.
We were both silent for a while.
"You want to know something?" I asked, gaze never wavering.
A short silence reigned.
"I can't get down."
Even more silence. A minute must have passed before a poorly stifled laugh escaped Luke's mouth.
Laughter erupted between us. Luke was holding his side in a stitch by the time I finally spoke.
"Well, don't just stand there and laugh. Stand there and be ready to call Jin in case I break my skull when I jump off," I scolded; fear distinctly ebbing away from my heart, as the threat of having to have spent the rest of my life on that boulder quickly dissipated. I don't think it was so much having to have lived on the rock, but more so having to stay in one place for the rest of my life. The thought passed a chilling shudder through me.
"Hey, wait," Luke cut in, "I can catch you."
I scoffed audibly. "No thanks," I remarked snidely, "I don't need some knight in shining armor to save me."
Luke looked visibly taken aback, a little shocked that a person in my situation would refuse help. Before he could utter another syllable, I shifted my weight forward, casting a glance down to where I would land. Without a second thought, I threw myself off the edge of the boulder. My heart threatened to fly out of my mouth; I was weightless, ethereal for a moment. I closed my eyes in anticipation for the excruciating sensation of the ground resonating into my bones. It never came.
"The fuck did you do that for?" I scorned angrily at Luke, vaulting out of the admittedly muscular arms he'd caught me in.
He raised a curious eyebrow. "You'd think I'd get more thanks for having potentially saved your life."
"I told you I didn't want your help."
"Says the girl who couldn't jump off until a knight in shining armor came to her rescue."
"Mighty arrogant for a guy who couldn't even get up the boulder to begin with," I retaliated, with a definitive sense of finality. I started walking off in the direction of my farm.
"Hey, Molly, wait," Luke called out from behind me, "you're bleeding."
Surprised, my eyes darted to the deep gash on my forearm, a result of having scraped it against the boulder on my fall down.
"I'm fine," I replied nonchalantly.
"Come over to my house and I'll fix it up for you," Luke offered.
"Am I wearing a fucking princess gown? I don't want your help. I said I'm fine." How repulsive. Men who thought women needed them – what a ridiculously self-righteous notion. People should learn to rely on themselves and themselves alone. Relying on others means you need someone to complete you. Pathetic.
I trudged home; Luke watching on, bewildered and hurt.
I washed the wound and left it as it was, not giving it much thought. Laying back on my bed, I lit a cigarette and observed how the smoke seemed to disappear into the rays of sunlight that leaked themselves through every corner of my house. I thought back the pathetic story of my mother.
A meek housewife. No money of her own. Lived to please my dad. When we caught him cheating on her, she had nowhere to go, so she stayed with the good for nothing scumbag. Never once made a squeak when my dad decided it'd be a good idea to start bringing his newest woman of the week home. She was too afraid to be on her own, so she let him walk all over her instead.
Repugnant. When you let yourself lean on someone else for the slightest second, you leave yourself wide open to spiraling into the trap of needing someone to complete you.
A knock on my door snapped me out of my philosophizing.
Luke.
I stared at him transparently. Leaning tiredly on my doorframe, I sighed, "you don't give up, do you?"
In his gloved hands were bandages and antiseptic.
"Just let me clean and bandage it up and I'll go."
Facing defeat, I let the persistent blue-head into the house, dropping my cigarette butt in the bin before perching myself on the edge of my bed.
"I'll do it myself."
"Don't be stubborn." His sudden brash words caught me by surprise.
"I've already washed it, so you didn't need to come anyway."
He fell silent. In one swift motion, he'd dropped his medical apparatus on my floor and ripped off the Band-Aid that sat innocently on his nose.
A small but deep purple scar cratered the slope of his nose. His distinctly vivid amber eyes stared into mine.
"I got this when I was a kid. Scraped my nose on the ground and never got it properly cleaned. It got badly infected and didn't heal right."
I felt fear and overwhelming guilt course through me.
"So just let me clean it for you, alright?"
I nodded quietly.
Luke knelt in front of where I sat on my bed, gently dabbing the wound with alcohol, dressing it in the bandages he'd brought. My gaze remained transfixed on his scar, sitting isolated on his nose.
Solitary.
Loneliness hidden behind a Band-Aid. Luke's friendly persona was a facade for the solitude of someone who knew what it meant to be human. My hand reached out to trace his miniature inverse rock of a scar. My fingers brushed over the loneliness that lay on his nose.
He visibly withdrew in surprise; but continued bandaging up my wound.
We're all a little lonely.
"Thanks," was all I could come up with when Luke announced that he was done.
He flashed a bright smile in my direction, sticking his Band-Aid back over the physical manifestation of loneliness that sat on his nose.
"You can thank me with a meal," he grinned sneakily. An agenda. Of course.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not some girl who's magically going to complete you, you know."
"I know."
"I'm the girl who'll change your life and break your heart," I warned off.
"I know," he sang back, eyes twinkling in the sunlight.
He didn't miss a beat.
Author's Note: I feel like I've almost completely changed Luke's character, but I couldn't figure out a way to transition his typical fiery one into one that would fit in with the story. I do hope that I somehow managed to convey a semblance of the optimism he normally has though! I also feel like I portrayed Molly as a tad too mean in this chapter, but that's supposed to be because she doesn't like having to rely on other people. Anyway, reviews are always appreciated!