fragileprophet | Week 2 - dreamshare catchall with Sandalphon

[Even without a response, Ion keeps going, his wrenching heart and his spinning head propelling him thoughtlessly forward until his arms wrap around Sandalphon's, holding onto him like a child.

And that's all that he is, ultimately.

Here, without his artes, with a meaningless title, losing more and more what feels like by the day, he feels smaller than ever. Weaker than ever.

He tightens his hold instinctively, as if he fears that Sandalphon will dissipate into light between his fingers. The thought is too much to bear.]

[The weight of Ion's arms is heavy on Sandalphon's. Whatever this gesture is, he's not familiar with it. He isn't mortal. He doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand.

Another fleeting moment goes by, and he shifts by a minuscule inch.]

What . . . are you doing?

I don't know.

[He knows what the gesture is, but not necessarily the why. Not what it will solve, what its doing for him, if this is even comforting on any level. But he can't stop. He can't unhook himself. Ion clenches his eyes shut.]

Please just let me stay like this for a bit longer.

[He takes a deep breath through his nose. If Ion doesn't know, then he has no hope of figuring this out. In a defeated tone, he replies:]

Do as you wish.

[As comforting as it is to know that Ion is still here, Sandalphon is uncertain as to whether he can look at his partner.]

Thank you.

[Slowly but surely, his body calms, his mind clearing. Ion still feels shaken, but he feels like he can contain it now. Bury it with everything else that hurts. He unwinds his arms, but stays close.]

I'm sorry...I just woke up feeling a little shocked, and I guess I reacted instinctively. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable.

[He peers down, past the gaps between his fingers, at the twisted fabric of the blanket draped over his lap. His arm is light now that it's devoid of Ion's grip, and the room feels bigger than ever around them.

Ion doesn't make him uncomfortable; however, his throat has closed up. He intends for his silence to be taken as a negative. He doesn't know what to say.]

[The continued silence sets Ion's heart pounding. What has he done so wrong now, he wonders.]

...I'm sorry.

[He only just apologized, but it feels like the only natural thing to say. To keep saying.]

I'm sure that was the last one.

[Slowly, his hands peel away from his face to rest on his lap. That was the last one. Of course—there can't be anything more than that.]

I don't understand . . . Why did it hurt so much?

Why did what hurt?

[Considering the dream he just had of Sandalphon, it wouldn't be too hard to put the pieces together, but...it's hard for him to immediately assume which painful part of his little life to zero in on.]

[Key thoughts from the dream echo in his mind. As Sandalphon recites them, he tries to understand.]

You wanted to live. You wanted to live for yourself.

[And that want ached.]

...oh.

[So that's where they are. How fitting, that the two of them saw each other die. Or at least, Sandalphon saw him nearly die. But it's definitive enough. Ion leans backward on an arm. His wrist is still bandaged, but he doesn't feel anything.]

I always expected to die soon, or suddenly. For most of my life...I was resigned to it. It wasn't until it was happening that I realized I was fooling myself. And I suppose it hurt...to have to face that when there wasn't any more time.

[Realizations always come too late.]

What's going to happen when this farce ends? Will you . . .

[The words die before in his throat. Does that mean that everything up till now has been pointless?]

Die, yes.

[Ion flashes one of those self-deprecating smiles.]

That’s why I asked you when we first met not to concern yourself with my well being. I have but one moment more to my name.

[He remembers. It feels like so long ago.]

No . . . If you're here, then there must be some sort of a way.

[A way to preserve this precious life, whose only desire is to live. There has to be.]

[It does. Strange how a few weeks can seem like the start of a whole new lifetime. But then, Ion's perception of time is a bit lacking.]

It would be nice if there was, but...

[His smile starts to fade. His expression says it all: it hurts too much to hope for what he wants just to find out that it won't matter. It's easier to just accept nothing now.]

I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound defeated, or like I don't appreciate what you're saying.

[He stares down at his hands, and his gaze is drawn to the fresh cut on his palm. Craning his neck, he finally sees Ion's expression—and something else.]

What happened to your wrist?

Hm?

[The question feels so sudden, it confuses him. He looks own at his wrist.]

Oh, this? Sorry, I forgot. Did I not tell you? I took one of Stephanie's injuries--from last week.

[Subconsciously, he curls his hands into loose fists, concealing the cut.]

How many more do you intend to take unto yourself?

As many as I can, for as long as I can.

[What would be the point of hiding it.]

That was my intention from the moment we received our assignments.

[That doesn't sit well with him, but he doesn't say anything. He has no right to Ion's actions. He doesn't have a right to anything.]

Even if it would mean your death?

[He sighs. After the conversations they've had...he didn't want to tell him this. But it doesn't change anything, anyone's opinions. So, it's time.]

My assigned objective is to die from my sustained injuries.

[He freezes. When the truth registers, he nearly trembles from the mounting frustration and anger.]

Didn't . . . You wanted to live for yourself, didn't you? So why are you following a task someone else assigned you?

Of course I do.

[His voice breaks, but he steadies himself, and finds his smile again.]

But if I die, in the place of even one person...that's a life that gets the chance to go on.

[It's wrong, but Sandalphon is unable to stop himself from raising his voice.]

What about your life? You're the one who wants to experience all those emotions and say what you couldn't say! Why do their lives matters while yours don't? You've given them everything!

[Ion flinches. He doesn't have an answer. He knows he doesn't, and it's pathetic.]

I don't...I...

[He hangs his head. He wants to beg Sandalphon not to yell at him, but a part of him knows he deserves it. Isn't this what everyone keeps telling him, over and over?]

It feels selfish! I'm not a real person, I was never entitled to any of it! No matter what I have to give, it can't ever be enough to make up for...for being given the chance to live at all!

Week 2 - dreamshare catchall with Sandalphon

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