Tap, tap, tap.
.
He was carried purely by his wings. His feet barely even touched the concrete below as he glided down the street. The only thing holding him down, preventing from flying off into the twin moons' alluring embrace was the drunken angel clutching onto his arm, weighed down by a gym-bag slung over her shoulder. Her feet swayed to the side every few steps, making her either drift away or lean even closer to the gray-head, his heart noting and cherishing each time it happened. He smiled, conquering the blush on his face, as the tipsy, red-head beamed right at the boy, all her drunken silliness on full display, just for him.
"I can walk on my own, really... I just don't wanna~." She murmured, leaning the side of her head onto his shoulder. Andy felt an immense wave of warmth crashing against the shore of his soul, as Lemuel giggled like a schoolgirl and latched onto his arm even tighter. He was in heaven. This was the payoff he had waited seven years for.
The two strolled along the empty streets of Lungmen, having long abandoned the rich, commercial areas with their awful, eye-catching lights and thought-stealing slogans, only to shift into the edge of some slum-like shanty-towns, where the dim, bleak blocks of flats reigned supreme. It didn't matter in the slightest, however, as Andy was completely enamored in this little moment, utterly lost in her warmth pressing against him.
"You're doing fine, Lemmy. All good." He whispered back, a soft smile tugging at his strawberry-red lips, his cheeks almost the same color. Lemuel perked up and giggled a tiny bit, letting out a soft hiccup or two.
"HIC!... "Lemmy"?... Since when am I… "Lemmy"?..." She bubbled, her eyes rising to meet his. Andy couldn't help but tap his finger against her nose, sending her cheek plummeting onto his shoulder once more.
"Since… Long ago. Since I got lost, far, far away. Since I started thinking about home and everyone there, and…" He lost his train of thought, feeling her soft skin pressing against his poor, torn sweater. The same sweater that's seen the tides of war raging and taking away hundreds of souls. "... And all that. I can stop, though."
She let out a gentle purr and nuzzled against his arm.
"Mmmm… No, I like "Lemmy"... I really like that~." She whispered, albeit a bit slurred. Andy couldn't think straight. His thoughts were just… Her. Only her, nothing else. It was utterly hopeless, like playing a losing game.
They continued their little stroll, drunkenly stumbling down the block. Dark alleys passing by, hundreds of empty eyes staring at the two lovebirds, the buildings and their windows witnessing a rather emotional reunion of two lost souls, finally put into the place where they had belonged this entire time. A few shadows took offense. Some decided their happiness was not meant to be.
A few figures churned and shuddered, moving away from their lit trash cans, the burning fast food wrappers and broken furniture. As the two lovey-dovey angels continued their stroll, the brutal offenders, the instigators and cruel, insidious rulers of this land followed suit, crawling from the deepest, most disgusting pits of Lungmen's underbelly.
Neither of them seemed to notice.
"... An-dee~...?" Lemmy whispered, head wobbly and threatening to glue itself against his shoulder for good.
"Mmmmm…?"
"How did you… How'd you find the rest, huuuh?... Did you… I hope you liked them, they mean a lot to me…" She slurred, bringing her doe-eyes right up to his. Andy smiled a little and nodded.
"I did! I really did. Texas especially…" His thoughts wandered off to the incident from an hour or so ago.
"Texas… She's… She's amazing, isn't she~? Just wish she'd drop the… HIC~!... The chilly hospitality from time to time…" She beamed, stumbling a little over her own shoes. "... I'll introduce you… Uh… To the rest tomorrow, okay…? Can we do that…? Can we meet tomorrow? Can we see each other…?"
Andy helped her stabilize her wobbly walk, before murmuring back.
"We can meet any day you like, alright?"
"Mmmmm…" A hum escaped her lips, as she leaned a little more against him. A few beats passed before she nudged him again. "Can you promise me something…? Pleaseee~?" She whispered, flashing him the most adorable smile he's seen yet. Maybe it was the moment itself, maybe the one and a half million LMD tequila.
"Anything, dummy~." He snickered back, letting his arm slowly slither around her tiny waist. It felt soft, her sweater hugging his arm close, like a little sheep's fuzzy coat. Lemuel didn't take any offense, only pressing herself closer to him.
"... Can you promise me… To never leave again?" Her voice purred, barely audible. Andy stopped almost immediately, causing her to lose balance. Barely, she grasped his hands to stay afloat.
The two stood in the middle of the sidewalk, a street lamp shining from above. Was that it? Was it really the limelight? Or was the glass broken ages ago by some hooligan, and the light gleaming down upon them was nothing but the twin moons' gaze, their divine attention entirely focused on the tiny moment between the two? Neither of them could tell.
Andy gazed into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in the copper piles of utter perfection more and more with each passing second. A few strands of crimson saffron fell upon them, which he took the liberty of brushing away. Lemuel blinked as his finger grazed against her skin.
"..." He didn't know what to say. He couldn't answer. With his face still all bloody and beaten, having already reassured the girl over and over that it was nothing, he was left utterly speechless. No amount of killing, no amount of ruthless, unfair survival could have ever prepared him for this. Was she feeling betrayed? Did he truly betray her by leaving? Did they care about him? Was the Tower of Revelations nothing but a dream…?
He gave a tiny nod. A small, yet honest gesture. Something to calm her drunk, weary mind. He opened his mouth, eager to reassure. To tell her everything. To confess, to testify, to come clean, completely clean. To whisper just how much he never wants to be apart from her.
"..."
"... HEY!"
A rough, raggedy voice pierced the night's gentle silence. A few footsteps quickly followed. Heavy ones, laced with hatred and cruelty. Andy felt the hair on his neck standing right up as he turned towards the source, softly shoving the girl behind himself.
"...?"
He stared upon the approaching doom. Creeping death. A group of shadows. One, two, three… One, large, clad in torn rags and long, gray hair. Similar to his, but not young. Gray curls of an old, wrinkled wreck of a person. A veteran of the city, a true survivor. The others, however, only mere apprentices of the homeless, elderly magus in front. He was huge. Almost twice the angel's size.
"... Yes? We don't want any problems, we're just…"
"Y' won' get any problems, pal." He coughed out, his voice hurt and irritated by years of constant chain smoking cigarettes free of any excise duty. He smiled upon the two, his yellow, dirty teeth drawing their gaze like the stars above. "We just wan' some business, pal. A little moolah."
Andy felt his heartbeat picking up. Money. Of course it was money. Something he, himself, could very much use. He took a wobbly step forward, as an unzipping noise arose from behind, followed by the soft sound of velcro tearing apart. His gaze focused on the man in front and his apprentices.
"... Look, you picked the wrong targets tonight, okay? I don't have any money. I… I can't even show you my wallet, 'cause I left it at home. That's how broke I am." His reasoning was lost in between lines as the two hoodlums glanced around themselves and the grand leader approached.
"Tough luck. We gotta eat somehow, y'know? Maybe your lady-friend has some."
She did not answer. Andy did not look behind himself to see whether or not she even acknowledged what was happening.
He stepped forward, free of any defensive capabilities. Nuffer and Vinny both laid comfortably at home, catching dust.
He took another step, opening his arms. This was it. His redemption.
He clutched his teeth together. Words seeped out from behind.
"Take me. Take me, but please, don't touch her."
His gaze locked on the elder's. The old man's grin grew sinister as a shattered bottle arose from behind his back, ready to plunge deep into the angel's heart. The two by his sides followed, grabbing their own makeshift shanks. A few excited squeals left their lips.
He felt hopeless. For the first time, death knocking at his door, only to be met by a strong, unequivocal voice of rejection. A stern "Please, no", as the reaper banged the blade of their scythe against his newly found home.
The hoodlums approached. The elder swiped his fingers against the glass-blade, filling the boy with a sense of emptiness. A conscious knowing that in the grand scheme of things, he was no one. Nothing. A speck of dust. A mouse in a lion's den.
Andy closed his eyes, feeling the dirty three approaching. A soft, metallic clanking clanged behind. His eyes barely managed to turn.
A sudden glimmer! It lit up the street like the ageless limelights never could.
A bang! A loud noise pierced the tension, like a hot knife through butter.
Another one, followed by a few more healthy series. Bang, bang, bang, all just sweet noise, all like honey for the ears…
Andy watched as the three in front winched in pain and dropped to the ground, holding onto their heads and faces. Dozens of little, black, rubbery spheres laid around them, some even embedded into their skin and clothes. They wailed in pain, throwing curses and slurs at the two.
"Aa-ah… Damn… Damn, you! Lawies! Damn, you two… Fuck, this hurts…"
The old man moaned, grasping his rubber-covered face. Andy finally turned to gaze at his savior.
Lemuel stood proud, swaying from side to side and holding onto her dear, old Luciela, loaded with a wide array of lead and rubber. Smoke oozed from the barrel only to wash away with the gentle, nightly breeze, as the shooter hiccuped and slumped to the side. She beamed, flashing Andy a smile so bright and wide, he could barely contain himself from rushing forward and wrapping his arms around her under the excuse of "simply being happy to have made it out alive."
Instead, he grinned right back, taking a few wobbly steps and giving her a pat on the shoulder. She giggled and shoved the gun back into her gym bag.
"Got' em… Got 'em good, huh~? I got some real aim training when you were out, Andy~..." She mumbled, letting herself rest against his side once more. Andy held her up, feeling so glad that she did. So glad.
He could listen to anything she had to say. He would only nod and laugh along, he would do anything to keep her talking. To keep her babbling about anything.
Her voice was honey. Her words were the warm, summer breeze. Combine both, you'd get heaven.
.
Andy listened to her slurred ramblings all the way until they had finally reached her apartment, free of any more unexpected unpleasantries.
.
…
.
A soft clatter of keys rang out in the silence of the staircase, as she fiddled with her keyring. A tiny, frustrated sigh arose, as she pressed herself closer to the boy and frowned, looking for the correct one.
Andy held her up, feeling an overwhelming urge to dive into the ocean of red hair and never, ever resubmerge. Yet, he simply continued lending her a shoulder.
"A-Aaaah… Come on…" She murmured, checking key after key, forcing them into the lock, only for them to stay there, unwilling to twist.
One after one, they entered and exited, before one had finally hit the mark. The lock twisted with a tiny clatter, and the door stepped aside, giving way for a cluttered apartment to grace their gazes.
She smiled brightly at the boy and took a wobbly step inside. Remembering Texas' words, Andy stood at the doormat, unwilling to enter. Lemuel, however, stretched and walked right in, turning around, confused, upon noticing his hesitation.
"...?" She tilted her head, pressing her arm against a messy drawer full of different pairs of shoes, each more bright and colorful than the other. "Are you… Coming in, or…?"
Andy hesitated for a moment. On one hand, he promised.
On the other hand, this was an opportunity too good to pass up on.
"Y-Yeah, just had a moment, that's it." He mumbled and stepped in, letting the closing door entomb them inside her apartment for the near future.
"..."
"..."
He was there. Lemuel's apartment. The space behind the wooden door from his dreams, with no crimson hallway to lead towards it. She kept staring into his eyes, smiling softly, as if eager to hear his reaction.
He glanced around the place. Messy, home-y, very comfortable, despite the overbearing mounds of clothes scattered everywhere and the layer of dust covering almost every surface, Andy felt strangely familiar. As if the interior itself carried a part of Lemuel with it. A strange, carved out part that persisted despite their parting with Laterano.
With a tiny smile of approval, he nodded.
"It's nice. Much nicer than my place, anyway."
Lemuel immediately beamed at his words, letting a grin tug at her lips. She kicked off her shoes and ventured deeper, towards the living room. Andy caught a glimpse of her throwing off her sweater, as he gently took off his own boots and lined them up neatly against the wall. Amidst the rows of colorful shoes, his mud-stained combat boots stood out like a dead whale washed upon the shore. Feeling more like an intruder than anything, he could only sigh and turn to the living room, witnessing a sight that made his heart stop for a moment.
Across the hallway, laid a simple couch. Just like the one from all of his dreams, just like he had always imagined. Upon it, sat Lem, a pair of velvet shorts having replaced her jeans, a black tank top freed from underneath the fuzzy sweater's warm embrace. She sat in one corner of the couch, an old guitar lying in the other.
As they locked gazes, she reached her arms out, softly smiling at the boy, inviting him to sit. He's treaded this path countless times before. This moment, it's been with him Law knows how long.
His wobbly feet took him forward. Passing through the hallway, he could almost imagine the countless photographs flocking around the walls. He could imagine the wainscot turning red, the soft smell of baked pastries wafting by. The living room felt even more cluttered than the rest. Clothes, piles of unread books, weapon cases messily scattered around… In the very corner, a small shrine caught his eye. A tiny, marble angel, holding onto a rifle made of stone. Underneath, a few empty shells stood upright, like candles on a cake.
He sat down on the couch next to her, feeling his mind growing more and more blurry, clouded by visions of countless nights spent in this intimate setting. His head turned to the left. Their gazes locked.
"Aaaandy…" She squealed, softly, moving herself a tiny bit closer, letting her warm, bare shoulder mash against his. "... How long has it been, mmm…?"
Her voice fluttered through the overbearing silence reigning over the flat, as her head gently fell upon his shoulder, their halos meeting and rubbing against one another. None seemed to mind, none seemed to hurt.
There was no pain between them. No suffering.
Only warmth. Her warmth was all he could feel, not even the alcohol's blurry clouds spreading over the wide plains of his weary mind.
"... Years. Too long." He whispered back, feeling the clingy, little angel glued to his side burrowing her cheek even deeper into his sweater. His eyes slowly slid along the gentle contours of her familiar shape, resting on the crimson sea spilling onto him in smooth, soft waves. A sweet, strangely familiar scent wafted by his nostrils, the tender smell of her hair slowly enveloping him whole.
"Years…" She repeated with the softest of purrs, her golden-brown eyes hiding behind their curtains. "... Yet you still feel so familiar."
Andy felt his heart melting. Oozing away, leaving the restrictive prison of his ribcage and sliding away everywhere, the red, warm mass encasing each bone, each organ, each little arterie. It felt like entire hours and mere seconds at the same time. Time did not exist.
"So familiar, but… So different."
Her words disappeared under the miniscule weight of a dreamy sigh. His ears twitched a little, as the heavenly sound playfully tickled his eardrums. It felt like the most delicate, tender breath of air brushing directly against the walls of his ear.
"... Yeah. We're adults, of course we're different." His words reminded her of this tiny, insignificant detail. "We're not thirteen anymore, silly."
"That's not what I meant, moron…" The little ball of yarn squirmed and twisted, pushing deeper into the pit of fluff and warmth. "... I meant, as in… Just look at you."
His eyes widened under her heavy gaze.
"... You used to dive into fountains for cash, and now? Now what?"
"Now what?"
Their whispers mixed and mingled, their breaths tickled each other's faces. The faint scent of alcohol seeped into his nostrils.
"... Now you're different. Grown up. I'm just babbling, I don't know what I'm saying…"
"... You're just drunk, Lemmy. It's alright." He murmured back, feeling her shift more of her weight onto him.
"Drunk… Alcohol washes the awkwardness away, no~?... I feel like I could tell you anything…"
She mumbled some unintelligible, sweet nothings into his collar.
"... Sure does make you do dumb things." A tiny smile spread over his lips, as the remnants of his beating still hurt here and there. He'd endure fifteen beatings like that if it meant being there, then, in that moment.
"Dumb things… I wanna do some very dumb things right now, An-dee~..."
A tiny hum escaped from underneath her tired lips as she reached over his chest to point towards the guitar on the other side.
"... See that?"
Andy gave a nod and traced his gaze along her finger, eventually reaching the instrument. It was old and cheap. Too cheap to be enjoyable to play, too old to bother fixing it in any way. Dust lined the nylon strings, helping the dried up paint around the soundhole peel and eventually fall into the endless plains of the couch.
Her arm felt heavy. It slowly rested over his body, as her muscles gave out.
"... I picked that up not long after you left, played it maybe… Twice, in total. And I carry it everywhere. I carried it here." Her voice came muffled, her lips pressed against his sweater. "... I carried it here, but I refuse to learn to play. I carried it here, because I refuse to let go."
His eyes slid from the guitar, back to her wine-red locks. There wasn't much in his head, not much in his brain in the face of this strangely intimate moment.
"I could teach you." His lips suggested for him. Not a single thought behind his words.
"... You play? You had time to learn to… To play, during a war?" Her eyes perked up in pleasant surprise. Almost as if on its own, her other arm began inconspicuously slithering around his back, along the couch's headrest. Her hands met at the other side, locking the angels in a warm embrace. "That's silly. You're still silly."
The soft beating of two hearts moving in unison filled the air. Andy couldn't make sense of the situation. Couldn't gaze into her halo for answers, having long lost the empathic ability of reading emotions off other Sankta's light.
"... But it's not about playing. It's about so much more." A beat, the soft fabric of her top brushed against his arm. "About letting go. About…" A gentle hiccup escaped her throat. "... About forgetting. About living. About guilt."
"Guilt…?"
"..." It took her a moment to gather her scattered thoughts. Her soft face remained pressed against the gray fabric, the fabric that's been through more than many people of senile age who walked this land. "... Just listen to me. I'm acting like… Like I'm entitled to this. To this moment."
A gentle shiver shook her weary arms. Andy could feel her body tremble against his.
"You've been through hell. You… You were there for Law knows how long… You were sleeping in the mud, when we were sitting around cushy universities, learning whatever."
Her pink lips started quivering. With a hesitant gamble, Andy pulled his own arm around her, unwilling to cut into her drunken tirade with any sounds. His words were ugly. Gray, bleak, dim, like metal pushing against a grater. Hers felt like a mug of warm milk on a cold, winter evening.
"... And I could've said something. I should've. I could h-have… I could have taken her side. I could've beaten the thought out of your head, I c-could've pulled you forcefully away from t-that monastery, I… I could've told someone. I could have saved you." Andy heard the pained whimpers blending into a mix of sobby whispers, as she buried herself deeper against his side, as if trying to melt into one. "... But I didn't. I s-said… I said it was for the better. It was Lawful. That's what the Law wanted, r-right…?"
He was torn. Two sides of the same coin, her words and her voice.
Trembling, shaky and uneven, yet so sweet and warm. The tone he's been waiting for his entire life. The feverish daydream that came true.
The words were soaked in guilt, soaked in tears that now spilled onto his shoulder, as she clutched onto his tighter and tighter. Her arms latched onto his neck, unwilling to ever let go. Her eyes, hidden behind the soft curtains, kept pouring out wave after wave of salty tear-water, all staining the freshly washed woolen veteran. A few drops welled up in his own, as her soft sobbing only grew, each sound, each little hiccup and murmur lighting a fire to his soul he never knew would see the light of day.
His words were lost in her ocean of tears, as he whispered against the top of her head, with flocks of red tickling his face.
.
"... It's alright."
.
Was it? His brain was split. It sent wave after wave of signals down all of his nerves, conveying pure electricity along the cell membrane, all contradicting one another.
Seven years. Seven years, he spent pining over her. Dreaming of a reality where he could rest against her side and feel her soft fingers running through his hair, as his mind emptied of any worries, of any thoughts, leaving it filled completely with nothing but her warmth.
Yet, there he was. Roles, reversed.
She kept bawling her eyes out onto his shoulder, permeated with guilt and her own demons hiding behind a layer of gleeful happiness, pulled forth by the alcohol swimming through the thick, crimson substance in her veins.
And her words kept coming.
.
"... I didn't know what to do. I didn't."
"... I didn't even bother sending letters."
"... I was so oblivious at first. Mostima, she was… She was so empty, so blank… I didn't know why, I kept trying to guess, I couldn't even begin to comprehend that it was because of me."
"And I prayed. A lot. I prayed a lot, I… I was there, every night, by my nightstand, on my knees, asking the Saints t-to bring you back. To keep you… To keep you safe. A whole bunch of o-other silly stuff, too. I was dumb, back then. Still am."
"Then… T-Then it happened. In front of t-the Notarial Hall… It… I… E-Everyone was so shocked. So confused. I didn't understand why. W-Why did he…? He just burned everything down… I r-remember my mom saying he always had issues, but she never suspected him of… Of that. And no one knew why. No one knew what happened to you. N-No one bothered to… To ask. We couldn't ask. Who would we ask? Our headmistress…? She was so silent the following week. So quiet."
"And so much time had passed. And we just… The war, it all ended and everyone just forgot. I tried to forget, but it just dragged b-behind me, it kept… It kept tugging at my sleeve. The thought that I sent you there."
"I prayed. I p-prayed more than ever. I didn't ask anymore. I begged. I begged whoever was willing to l-listen. I begged for forgiveness. For time to turn back. For everyone around. For… I didn't know what I begged for, anymore. I just kept begging and begging… And then I'd wake up in the m-morning and forget all about it."
"And then it happened, again. They… They b-brought En back. Some regular, mundane mission, it was supposed to be. I could barely look at her, she was all… All covered in red and unconscious. And she wouldn't wake up. And no matter how much I begged, no matter how many nights I spent on my knees, staring at that… At that marble, she w-wouldn't wake up. She wouldn't."
"... And when she did…? They put her in that… That thing. Told her "this is your life now" and left. And I… And what did I do? I left, too. I… I thought to myself, "good enough", and just left. Left, ran after someone who… Who just kept leaving, just like I did. That's what I get. That's what I g-get…"
"..."
.
Her words drowned in the ocean of sobs spilling from her mouth, tightly pressed against the boy's side. Enveloping them both whole, threatening to fill their lungs and pump away all air resting within.
He could hear nothing. Feel, nothing. His entire body went entirely limp, as the object of all of his nightly ventures into the deepest pits of his soul kept clinging onto him and crying.
He couldn't bring himself to speak. Couldn't raise his arms to save his life, couldn't even shift away from the trembling mess, as she pressed her soft, thin body against him. With each sob came a spike stuck right into his side, narrowly navigating his ribs and piercing whatever organ it could reach first. No thoughts were left in his head. No tears left to shed, as his eyes had simply dried up, having exercised the waterworks to their limit by this point.
Seconds turned into minutes.
Minutes turned into hours.
Her sobs turned into soft sniffles, as her embrace grew light. She couldn't hold herself up straight anymore. The alcohol ravaging her tiny mind kept assaulting her brain with waves of nausea and tiredness, putting each nerve to the test.
Slowly, she let go. He could only watch as her tear-clad face slid down his chest, brushing against the soft fabric, only for the soft ocean of scarlet locks to spill onto his lap. Her gaze focused on his, willingly latching onto each and every soft imperfection and unevenness on the surface, taking them in with a pang of guilt, knowing that each little scar, each bruise and liter of blood he's ever lost was because of her. Because, unbeknownst to her, she kept him going. She kept him clinging onto life. She kept him breathing, kept him enduring everything life threw under his muddy boots.
Gray and orange. Reflecting off one another, dreams interlocked.
She was there. Each uneven, trembling breath in moved her chest up, each guilt-filled breath out sent the dark tank top shrinking back down. Her eyes were utterly lost in his.
The tragic mercenary's hand rose from the soft field spread out atop the couch. His sight never waivered, forever focused on her face.
Slowly, the blood-soaked fingers slid along the dark plains, rising towards the tiny ball of yarn covered by a blanket of silky smooth saffron. Gently, their warmth enveloped the side of her face, as his hand finally met her cheek.
Her breath hitched. Her mouth formed a little "o".
Andy slid his thumb underneath her tear-filled eyes, brushing away the pain. Any remnants of guilt, any hurt and suffering. This moment wasn't his, that much he knew. His role turned out to be someone else's to play.
And he was fine with it.
Her eyes slowly closed, as her breaths began coming in at a slower pace, her face warm against the palm of his hand. The other dived into the sea of wine, gently brushing through and caressing her hair.
A soft, barely audible murmur was everything she could muster.
"... I don't want to think anymore."
"... I don't want to beg."
"... Except just… Just one last time."
Her eyes closed. A tiny sigh slithered from behind her lips.
.
"... Can you play me something, Andy? Something nice. Something to hold onto."
.
…
.
Her head shifted, making space for the instrument. Andy almost immediately reached over to grab the ancient six string, the thought of denying her wish never even crossing his mind.
He placed the guitar in his lap, right next to her head. The strings squeaked a little as his fingers grasped the fretboard.
The action was terrible. The neck was wobbly. The strings were all out of tune and unpleasantly biting his fingers.
Yet, he pushed on. This would be the most important performance of his life, after all.
.
.
Those tired, hurt fingers pressed down on the strings.
Those damaged, dirty nails plucked at the nylon.
His lips slowly parted, feeling the quiet music swarming everything inside the room. His eyes could see nothing but the darkness in front and the gentle glow of her dim radiance.
And his voice came out, reborn once more.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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I don't want to be awake again
.
I spend my days with my head in my hands
.
If I go outside, I'll fall apart
.
.
I am mostly scared by passing time
.
The world it seems gets more unkind
.
Inevitable tragedies will soon be mine
.
.
I am looking for an easy place
.
To mask my thoughts behind my face
.
Oh, brown baked column of victory
.
.
Maybe I should just pack up and run away again
.
And let you forget that you were once my friend
.
And watch another go on and do better without me
.
.
But I could not go away, not if I wanted to
.
I can hide from friends, but I cannot hide from you
.
These chemical reactions are dividing me
.
.
Self-deprecating thoughts are interrupting all the time
.
Emphasizing all the traits that I wish weren't mine
.
They speak louder than everybody
.
.
I try to keep my eyes closed as my outlook isn't bright
.
Compulsively complaining when I haven't got the right
.
I hate the way that I think and act
.
.
I want to end reality but I feel hesitant
.
Optimistic that the future will be more concerned than the present
.
And so for today, I'll remain intact
.
.
I don't want to be awake again
.
I spend my days with my head in my hands
.
If I go outside, I'll fall apart
.
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…
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The instrument pressed softly against the plush exterior of the sofa. Nothing else could be heard but the girl's soft breathing, as a calm, drunken sleep overtook her weary mind.
Her lips remained slightly parted, letting air flow in and escape out, bringing about the softest of whispers, the sound of her breathing. Andy could only stare, only listen to the most perfect few noise frequencies that have ever graced his ears.
She looked so tiny. So weak and vulnerable, with her head on his lap, sleeping soundly.
The angel slowly slid his legs from underneath her hair, letting her rest on the sofa.
He kneeled down next to her, letting the soft carpet drown out the pain in his knees.
Their faces were inches away. The smell of her hair, her alcohol-laced breath, hints of sweat and perfume, it all wafted out of her and into his nostrils.
He could stay there for hours. Days. Staring at her sleeping face, making sure no tears would ever flow from beneath those warm lids.
A strand of hair hanged dangerously close to her mouth, left ajar in her sleep. He took the liberty and carefully brushed it away.
She was so close.
Right before him, the real her. Not a dream. Not a mare. Not a puppet to comfort him, but a dim soul to comfort.
His mouth slightly puckered, as his heavy eyelids fell over the gray spheres, curtains at the end of a tear-jerking show.
His neck moved forward, just a couple centimeters.
The edge of his lips gently brushed against her cheek. Her soft, warm skin graced him with its presence as he slid away a second or an hour later.
He stood up, feeling a burning sensation spreading over his entire face.
His halo shone brighter than ever before. His wings flickered, sending waves of warmth up his spine.
A few more glances at her peaceful, sleeping face was all he could take. That was all he wanted, anyway.
.
His feet shuffled quietly against the soft carpet, as he dragged himself to the door. A pair of spare keys hung from a tiny hook by the shoe cabinets. Carefully, he took them and opened the door, making sure to produce as little noise as possible when locking it behind.
.
…
.
He took a glance around the empty staircase. Barely anything was visible, his halo had almost grown entirely dim by now, the warmth from before slowly washing away, being replaced by the night's cold air.
.
His footsteps echoed through the building as he made his way onto the ground floor. With a gentle push, he shoved the main door aside and stepped out onto the empty street.
.
…
.
His wings weren't carrying him anywhere.
His heavy, mud-coated boots tapped against concrete as he marched back towards the library.
His mind was still blank. Still mostly empty.
No thoughts had yet been born.
He didn't even know how to begin the process.
No idea what to think.
.
No idea how to fall asleep alone, having tasted the most comforting warmth Terra had to offer.