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writetomyheart2019-04-26 02:26 am
yrindor) wrote in writetomyheart2019-04-26 02:26 am
Entry tags:
[Team Sonic] By the Stars
Trying to get sonic up and running again. First words from "Stars" from Les Mis since that's been stuck in my head since I saw it last weekend. Warning for referenced suicide attempt.
Sentinels, silent and sure, keeping watch in the night. No matter how many times he came out here, season after season, the stars were always the same. On still nights like tonight, they reflected off of the water below like a giant mirror, making it look almost solid, the glittering lights masking the cold depth below the surface.
It was hard to remember sometimes just how many times he had come out here since that day; when he thought about it too much, the memories fragmented and slipped through his grasp, like the stars that shimmered only at the edges of one's vision, disappearing when one tried to look at them directly.
He remembered the phone call, or rather, he remembered the phone ringing, and his annoyance that he had forgotten to silence it before the audition began. The sound was faint coming from his bag in a locker in the hall, but it was enough to knock him out of his stride for a minute before he brushed it aside and refocused. After the audition, he had hung back for feedback from his manager and the directors, the phone call long forgotten.
It wasn't until after he had changed and left and made it to his train that he saw the voicemail. Aine, he had thought, smiling as he dialed his voicemail to hear the good luck wishes from his boyfriend. The words had been so unexpected, so foreign in their tone that at first he had thought it was a joke, or some sort of mistake. But Aine hadn't answered when he returned the call, or when he tried again, or again.
He couldn't remember the exact words of Aine's message. Shouldn't he be able to? Something so important? Something that had changed their lives so permanently? He had tried to remember, tried to hold onto the last time he had heard his boyfriend's voice, but the words always swam away, just out of his reach. He would never forget the tone though, the desperation and pleading in Aine's voice, and then, at the end, the apology. Maybe he would never remember what Aine had apologized for, but he wanted to tell him that, whatever it was, he was forgiven. He would be forgiven a hundred times over if only he would show his face again. If only he would come back. If only they could stand face to face once more.
Aine had disappeared into the ocean they had said. He was gone, but not dead. At least, Reiji refused to believe he was dead, and no one contradicted him. Aine was out there somewhere, hidden away by the waters somewhere far away from the life they had lived.
Reiji looked up at the stars again, silently pleading with them to give up their secrets. If the night was clear, he came out here whenever he could slip away. If he came enough times, maybe the stars would finally give up their secrets. Maybe he would finally catch hold of the memories that slipped through his fingers. Maybe, the waves would part and the stars would light the path to Aine, and he could finally apologize for not having been there before, for having failed him and taken so long to find him again.
Out here, with only the stars as his witness, he could let his mask fall. It hadn't always been a mask. The bright, cheerful optimist used to come naturally to him; nothing could keep him down for long. It had made him popular with the girls, and that had launched his idol career off the ground. That was before--back when Aine's laughter would follow him down the hall, and when he could tease a smile out of Aine even when they were neck-deep in studying and rehearsals.
Now, it was harder to find that light. He kept it up for the fans who expected it from him. He kept it up for his agency who used it to tell his talent. He kept it up for Aine's memory, so that he wouldn't fail him a second time, but it was no longer so natural. It was tiring, papering over the holes in his heart with glitter and mirrors, but out here, alone on the beach, he could let that fall away. The stars understood. The lights that twinkled overhead and skimmed across the tips of the waves were nothing but the memories of events long past. Out in the cold void of space, a star could have faded away long before he was born, and yet its light would continue dancing on the water long after he died, seemingly unchanged and permanent to any human observer. Alone on the beach, he could let his tears mingle with the salt spray as he sifted through fragmented memories searching for the key that would lead him to Aine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ai admired the stars overhead. Even as the seasons and the weather turned on the beach, the stars overhead continued to follow the same courses through the sky and burn as they had for as long as he had observed them. Intellectually, he knew that the local atmospheric events on this small rock making its way around its local star were effectively inconsequential to the happenings on the stars tens, if not hundreds or thousands of light years away whose spectral output he saw in the night sky, but that didn't change the strange tug he felt in his chest as he looked at them. There were many things he did not understand about feelings; it was why he made a constant study of human emotions. Perhaps this was the feeling they called wonder, or awe, though he did not understand what was particularly special about giant balls of gas undergoing fusion in pockets across the universe. He still had much to learn.
Tonight, he looked out at the stars over the ocean. They stood almost still on the surface of the water as the gentle waves ebbed and flowed under them. At night, the waters were black edged with silver starlight. Even from as close to the shore as he stood, he could not see below the surface of the waves. The hidden depths caused another tug in his chest, the feeling called unease. He did not know why the ocean affected him in this way. His body, being mechanical, did not always take so well to water, but he did not have this feeling around the sinks and showers at the academy, or even near the pond on the grounds. This feeling ran deeper than those, and only around the ocean. It came with something like an itch at the edge of his mind; some corner of a memory that fluttered just out of his reach.
He was not used to not being able to recall stored data at will. Perhaps there was some piece of faulty code or a loose wire that caused this sensation every time he came out to the beach. It unsettled him, but at the same time, the ocean seemed to call to him. There were answers under the waves, he was sure of it. Whatever itched inside of his head, it would be resolved if he slipped under them.
He wanted answers. He wanted to understand these feelings that were so foreign to him; he wanted to know what lay in that fragmentary part of his memory processes. He wanted to know, but the nearer he drew to the ocean, the larger the curl of unease in his gut grew. The ocean called to him with a siren song even as it warned him away.
The stars overhead stood as they always did, like sentinels keeping watch in the night. The sea was calm tonight, and the stars were watching him. Perhaps it would not hurt to take just a step or two into the ocean. He would not go far, just enough for the water to wash over his feet and lap at his ankles with its secrets.
He took a step forward, and the stars seemed to freeze and turn to watch, though of course that was impossible. He took another step, and the sand underfoot hardened, no longer spilling between his toes. Another step, and the waves came up just short of his toes. One more step, and for the first time, he would have set foot in the ocean.
"Aine!"
Startled, Ai looked back over his shoulder. He had thought he was alone on the beach, but now Reiji was here and sprinting toward him, calling him by a new nickname he hadn't heard before. Perhaps Reiji would like to join him standing in the surf? Perhaps company would ease the conflicting feelings throbbing under his skin.
Ai waved to him before turning back to the expanse of stars and water.
"Aine!" Reiji yelled again. Then, everything happened in rapid succession. Ai took one more step forward, and as his foot hit the water, Reiji's shoulder slammed into his chest. In the corner of his mind, something crackled and sparked with a blinding flash, and everything went black.
When he opened his eyes again, he was looking up at the stars. He blinked a few times as he oriented himself. He was lying on his back on dry sand, Reiji next to him. The fragmentary part of his memory processes was no longer so fragmentary.
He started to sit up, and immediately Reiji was there, pulling him up and clinging to him.
"Ai-Ai," Reiji whispered into Ai's shoulder. "Aine." Bits of driftwood and seaweed clung to his hair, but he didn't seem to notice. Ai started to brush Reiji's hair from his face, but it stuck to his cheek. Startled, Ai looked down.
Reiji turned away, but not before Ai saw the tears streaming down his face. Uncertain, Ai pulled Reiji closer, running his fingers through his hair. Reiji shuddered under him, seeming to war with himself for a moment before he leaned into Ai and sobbed, his cries mixing with the gentle crash of the waves.
They stayed like that until Reiji cried himself into silence. Gently, Ai loosened Reiji's grip. "It wasn't your fault," he whispered in Reiji's ear.
"I asked the stars for a sign," Reji said, "and then you appeared. I thought you were him."
"The waves called to me," Ai replied. "They brought me there."
They held each other in silence, unspoken memories flowing around them. Less uncertain now, Ai cupped a hand under Reiji's cheek and raised his head. An entire world swam behind the tears in Reiji's eyes, laid bare for Ai to see.
Ai nodded as he closed his eyes, letting Reiji pull him in to a gentle kiss.
Sentinels, silent and sure, keeping watch in the night. No matter how many times he came out here, season after season, the stars were always the same. On still nights like tonight, they reflected off of the water below like a giant mirror, making it look almost solid, the glittering lights masking the cold depth below the surface.
It was hard to remember sometimes just how many times he had come out here since that day; when he thought about it too much, the memories fragmented and slipped through his grasp, like the stars that shimmered only at the edges of one's vision, disappearing when one tried to look at them directly.
He remembered the phone call, or rather, he remembered the phone ringing, and his annoyance that he had forgotten to silence it before the audition began. The sound was faint coming from his bag in a locker in the hall, but it was enough to knock him out of his stride for a minute before he brushed it aside and refocused. After the audition, he had hung back for feedback from his manager and the directors, the phone call long forgotten.
It wasn't until after he had changed and left and made it to his train that he saw the voicemail. Aine, he had thought, smiling as he dialed his voicemail to hear the good luck wishes from his boyfriend. The words had been so unexpected, so foreign in their tone that at first he had thought it was a joke, or some sort of mistake. But Aine hadn't answered when he returned the call, or when he tried again, or again.
He couldn't remember the exact words of Aine's message. Shouldn't he be able to? Something so important? Something that had changed their lives so permanently? He had tried to remember, tried to hold onto the last time he had heard his boyfriend's voice, but the words always swam away, just out of his reach. He would never forget the tone though, the desperation and pleading in Aine's voice, and then, at the end, the apology. Maybe he would never remember what Aine had apologized for, but he wanted to tell him that, whatever it was, he was forgiven. He would be forgiven a hundred times over if only he would show his face again. If only he would come back. If only they could stand face to face once more.
Aine had disappeared into the ocean they had said. He was gone, but not dead. At least, Reiji refused to believe he was dead, and no one contradicted him. Aine was out there somewhere, hidden away by the waters somewhere far away from the life they had lived.
Reiji looked up at the stars again, silently pleading with them to give up their secrets. If the night was clear, he came out here whenever he could slip away. If he came enough times, maybe the stars would finally give up their secrets. Maybe he would finally catch hold of the memories that slipped through his fingers. Maybe, the waves would part and the stars would light the path to Aine, and he could finally apologize for not having been there before, for having failed him and taken so long to find him again.
Out here, with only the stars as his witness, he could let his mask fall. It hadn't always been a mask. The bright, cheerful optimist used to come naturally to him; nothing could keep him down for long. It had made him popular with the girls, and that had launched his idol career off the ground. That was before--back when Aine's laughter would follow him down the hall, and when he could tease a smile out of Aine even when they were neck-deep in studying and rehearsals.
Now, it was harder to find that light. He kept it up for the fans who expected it from him. He kept it up for his agency who used it to tell his talent. He kept it up for Aine's memory, so that he wouldn't fail him a second time, but it was no longer so natural. It was tiring, papering over the holes in his heart with glitter and mirrors, but out here, alone on the beach, he could let that fall away. The stars understood. The lights that twinkled overhead and skimmed across the tips of the waves were nothing but the memories of events long past. Out in the cold void of space, a star could have faded away long before he was born, and yet its light would continue dancing on the water long after he died, seemingly unchanged and permanent to any human observer. Alone on the beach, he could let his tears mingle with the salt spray as he sifted through fragmented memories searching for the key that would lead him to Aine.
Ai admired the stars overhead. Even as the seasons and the weather turned on the beach, the stars overhead continued to follow the same courses through the sky and burn as they had for as long as he had observed them. Intellectually, he knew that the local atmospheric events on this small rock making its way around its local star were effectively inconsequential to the happenings on the stars tens, if not hundreds or thousands of light years away whose spectral output he saw in the night sky, but that didn't change the strange tug he felt in his chest as he looked at them. There were many things he did not understand about feelings; it was why he made a constant study of human emotions. Perhaps this was the feeling they called wonder, or awe, though he did not understand what was particularly special about giant balls of gas undergoing fusion in pockets across the universe. He still had much to learn.
Tonight, he looked out at the stars over the ocean. They stood almost still on the surface of the water as the gentle waves ebbed and flowed under them. At night, the waters were black edged with silver starlight. Even from as close to the shore as he stood, he could not see below the surface of the waves. The hidden depths caused another tug in his chest, the feeling called unease. He did not know why the ocean affected him in this way. His body, being mechanical, did not always take so well to water, but he did not have this feeling around the sinks and showers at the academy, or even near the pond on the grounds. This feeling ran deeper than those, and only around the ocean. It came with something like an itch at the edge of his mind; some corner of a memory that fluttered just out of his reach.
He was not used to not being able to recall stored data at will. Perhaps there was some piece of faulty code or a loose wire that caused this sensation every time he came out to the beach. It unsettled him, but at the same time, the ocean seemed to call to him. There were answers under the waves, he was sure of it. Whatever itched inside of his head, it would be resolved if he slipped under them.
He wanted answers. He wanted to understand these feelings that were so foreign to him; he wanted to know what lay in that fragmentary part of his memory processes. He wanted to know, but the nearer he drew to the ocean, the larger the curl of unease in his gut grew. The ocean called to him with a siren song even as it warned him away.
The stars overhead stood as they always did, like sentinels keeping watch in the night. The sea was calm tonight, and the stars were watching him. Perhaps it would not hurt to take just a step or two into the ocean. He would not go far, just enough for the water to wash over his feet and lap at his ankles with its secrets.
He took a step forward, and the stars seemed to freeze and turn to watch, though of course that was impossible. He took another step, and the sand underfoot hardened, no longer spilling between his toes. Another step, and the waves came up just short of his toes. One more step, and for the first time, he would have set foot in the ocean.
"Aine!"
Startled, Ai looked back over his shoulder. He had thought he was alone on the beach, but now Reiji was here and sprinting toward him, calling him by a new nickname he hadn't heard before. Perhaps Reiji would like to join him standing in the surf? Perhaps company would ease the conflicting feelings throbbing under his skin.
Ai waved to him before turning back to the expanse of stars and water.
"Aine!" Reiji yelled again. Then, everything happened in rapid succession. Ai took one more step forward, and as his foot hit the water, Reiji's shoulder slammed into his chest. In the corner of his mind, something crackled and sparked with a blinding flash, and everything went black.
When he opened his eyes again, he was looking up at the stars. He blinked a few times as he oriented himself. He was lying on his back on dry sand, Reiji next to him. The fragmentary part of his memory processes was no longer so fragmentary.
He started to sit up, and immediately Reiji was there, pulling him up and clinging to him.
"Ai-Ai," Reiji whispered into Ai's shoulder. "Aine." Bits of driftwood and seaweed clung to his hair, but he didn't seem to notice. Ai started to brush Reiji's hair from his face, but it stuck to his cheek. Startled, Ai looked down.
Reiji turned away, but not before Ai saw the tears streaming down his face. Uncertain, Ai pulled Reiji closer, running his fingers through his hair. Reiji shuddered under him, seeming to war with himself for a moment before he leaned into Ai and sobbed, his cries mixing with the gentle crash of the waves.
They stayed like that until Reiji cried himself into silence. Gently, Ai loosened Reiji's grip. "It wasn't your fault," he whispered in Reiji's ear.
"I asked the stars for a sign," Reji said, "and then you appeared. I thought you were him."
"The waves called to me," Ai replied. "They brought me there."
They held each other in silence, unspoken memories flowing around them. Less uncertain now, Ai cupped a hand under Reiji's cheek and raised his head. An entire world swam behind the tears in Reiji's eyes, laid bare for Ai to see.
Ai nodded as he closed his eyes, letting Reiji pull him in to a gentle kiss.