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The water had always made things simple, in a way. The jagged edges were swept away, and even the worst tragedy was smoothed out into something easy to detach from. But it made everything else slip away in turn.
Without it, things are real again.
The sky is overcast; clouds hang high, but they're still not letting the slowly rising sun through. The half-naked branches rustle quietly in the timid wind.
It's nearing dawn, and a man with no name lays on a couch in an empty apartment.
It's getting colder.
We always hated this weather. They never turn on the heating on time.
It was loud outside yesterday, some kind of commotion right under the windows. Would've been a good idea to get up and look out, but it's been more and more difficult to move lately.
Just as well. City's going to shit, that Bec guy was exactly right. He generally seemed to know how to be right, at least whenever he wasn't panicking.
Hopefully he made it out. Him and that woman, they're not bad people.
Neither are you, dear.
She's not supposed to be here. She's not, nobody has come by in days.
She couldn't have possibly forgiven him enough to come back, anyway.
░░░░, silly, I was never mad at you.
It's hot now, fake and suffocating. The mask's lenses never fog up, but his vision is blurry still, the cracks on the ceiling floating in and out of focus.
How long has it been? He should be hungry, but his stomach only has twinging pain and steady nausea to offer him.
We never got to renovate.
His chest rattles, shallow and erratic, breath deafeningly loud against the white casing.
I'm sorry. I wanted to make things better.
I wanted you to be safe, even if it meant I needed to leave. Ended up the opposite. Ended up killing you.
Somewhere out in the distance, there's gunfire and screaming.
That's not true. Even you know that.
It was still all my fault. For being a mess. For hiding it. For leaving you. For watching you die.
A hunter's wail is cut short. A few more seconds, and then it's all quiet again.
I never wanted you to be sad because of me.
There, just a bit of searching now, and he recalls the easy, quiet laugh muffled by his shoulder.
I remember making you smile.
It was better than any music.
"In woe and happiness alike". You remember that too now, right?
The basement had almost no mold. And the ring I gave you turned out to be a bit too big.
The band around his own finger sits tight, the feeling of metal just barely noticeable beneath the steady waves of pain and vertigo.
And yours barely fit you. But we grew into them in the end.
He breathes, stifling the noise trying to wrack itself from his tightening chest.
A glimpse of orange comes into view as he shifts his eyes, and his ribcage constricts even more.
I'm sorry. I came around far too late.
You did, in the end. And you've helped so many people realize our dream. They owe their freedom to you.
They've spent the last days gathering anyone ready and willing to try and escape for good — hardened rebels next to desperately brave teenagers and older citizens with sullen faces. Didn't matter as long as they were ready to face whatever it would be over at the perimeter.
As long as they gave each other hope.
They'll be free. But what about us?
We did our part. We can find peace in that.
Let me make things better now.
Even the slightest movement makes his vision go white with pain, but he obliges, turning his head to the side. He would've clutched his temples, but his arms lay limp, one hanging off of the couch while the other cradles the sickly heat in his side.
It's difficult to breathe. It's like the mask has grown into him, digging into flesh, refusing to be separated from its owner…
Please.
Of course, my love.
The clasps come undone, and the plastic parasite clatters to the floor and out of view, powerless and dull.
The air hits his face right as the tears stream down, disappearing into the coarse fabric underneath the messy strands of hair, warm and sharp on his skin.
There.
Thank you.
I wish I could do something for you, too.
You're home. All I wanted was for you to come home.
He sobs. Finally, it's his own voice, frighteningly real.
Human, just like he used to be.
Just like you are.
His head is lighter now, slowly adjusting to being unburdened, and the nausea dissipates, letting him cry freely, if ever so quietly.
I hope so.
I never deserved you. I just hope I managed to do enough good to try.
There's no need to push yourself anymore. Let yourself rest now, okay?
Let me rest, too.
…
Little by little, the sky starts brightening up, and he blinks away the last of his tears.
Okay.
I love you.
At last, there's a break in the clouds, and a man with no name closes his eyes as the sun caresses his face once more.
I love you.
It's gentle and warm, just once more.
And nothing hurts at all.
Please, can I hold you
Until it's done?
I won't forget
I promise
Please
I promise.