LITERARY JOURNAL: The Triumph Song of Life
[Inspired by Evangelion]
A work of fan fiction by an anonymous EWG student
This one was different.
My existence began with me knowing not how, simply why. An inborn Instinct, all-good, and invariably correct, provided all the knowledge I could possibly require. Humans have taken this title and quite frankly butchered it, for an angel’s Instinct is far from that ‘gut-feeling’ insanity. No, Instinct is in actuality God’s intent, gifted to me and all of my kind to serve Him in accordance to His precise will. Never deliver judgment, for that was the job of God and God alone; for Instinct was like judgment upon ourselves. Thus, I was aware from the beginning of my simple purpose– “absolute and indispensable,” said Instinct provided– to exist for humanity. I was some divine entity, an angel, assigned one life after the other to protect. ‘Protect’, I say in loose terms, of course. All deserve happiness, and angels such as myself are to all assist in achieving it. Discreet assistance is about all our job entails, for it’s not as though we are meant to overpower man’s free will– it is their right to live and learn, to fall and rise. Not ours. Humans are quite social creatures, and as a result their decisions tend to influence one another to varying degrees. As we angels involve ourselves briefly in human activity, I suppose that means logically angels indirectly impact each other as well. Funnily enough, humans and angels are still yet opposite in terms of social tendencies– or rather for the former, a lack thereof. By Instinct I am well aware I am far from the only angel to be born, nor will I likely be the last. As for where my fellow angels are…I would guess that they are close as they are out of reach. Only guess, for it is not as if I will ever know. That is how it always has been, and how it will always be. I know, Instinctually, that such is simply the way of nature.
Angels are not meant to busy themselves with such frivolities. We have no reason to interact with one another, and very rarely to do so with humans (Instinct will enlighten us when such lengths are necessary). We do not live for ourselves, for that is the privilege of humanity and the greed-driven sin of devils. We live for human kind, and that is all. In human terms this existence, while just by nature, is undeniably…lonesome. Like humans, angels are fundamentally alone, yet unlike them, it is not our place to seek change. And that is just fine.
Isn’t it?
So naturally, my own recent actions could not be considered anything other than blatantly shameful. My current assignment is…well, he is….different.
I don’t know what, I don’t know why! He just…he just is! Is it pity? As a being created as a result of pity for humanity, it certainly isn’t wrong to feel pity, right? His troubles are certainly of the forlorn sort…
Just like me, huh?
No, no, pity is not wrong. Humanity is to be pitied. But ignoring Instinct? That’s essentially defying God himself! I…I….
I talked to him.
Oh God (forgive me for using Thy hallowed name in vain), I actually talked to him. Talking to humans is not inherently wrong itself, but only under specific circumstances, those being when– and only when– Instinct deems it appropriate. It is not often that Instinct allows such measures. I cannot say I recall the last time it occurred to me. Instinct did not take too kindly to my defiance. It pricked my stomach, filled my lungs, voice booming within my skull, wrongwrongWRONG– and I proceeded regardless. And the further I went…the more distant Instinct’s reprimands appeared.
I spoke to him, sitting upon a rock overlooking an odd lake, which looked as though formed by craters. The hazy evening sky had dyed the glimmering waters beneath to match its pale orange hue, the black of night just slightly creeping in upon the sky. Remains of old infrastructure jutted starkly amongst the canvas of the horizon, the juxtaposition of them and the surrounding rocks and lush forests jarring yet strangely alluring all the same. Small, saltless waves gently rose and fell, a steady rhythm. Shrill wails of cicadas pierced the silence as soft winds fluttered by, all subtle whisper and summer aroma. Full of contrasts, beginnings and ends and imperfect perfections and perfect imperfections. A hymn of life, God’s psalm and creation. A beauty to behold.
I come here often enough. How could I not? But I cannot say admiring it with another had ever crossed me as a possibility. Instinct ensured that. I know it was wrong, I know it. Even so, I would be lying if I were not to admit I enjoyed it.
Eventually, for he is not one to reach out easily, he spoke to me. Spoke to me of his life, his troubles. Of his mother, a brilliant scientist and loving parent, who died in a freak lab accident when he was a toddler, watching, horrified, behind glass. Of his father, a distant and cold intellect, with his impassive expression and gaze hidden behind tinted lenses. Of his father’s rejection of his son, subsequent to the death of his wife, only to retrieve him after a full decade, once made aware of his neglected child’s intellect, rival to his beloved long passed. Of his own desire to please his father, despite any misgivings he has held over his abandonment. His eyes spoke of his delight in receiving some semblance of attention as well as shock at his unusually loose tongue– looseness borne of unconscious comfort from me being his guardian or sheer desperation, I would never truly know, He spoke to me of things I was already well aware of, being his guardian angel. Not that it mattered. I simply smiled and listened, offering input when I felt needed. (Instinct was being awfully quiet) And upon seeing my smile reflected on his own face, I realized that this, in all its simplicity, was enough.
The sun had long since sunk below the horizon by the time he took his leave. I watched his departure, his figure steadily becoming smaller, feeling pleasantly light. It was then my grin, just moments previously a seemingly imperishable feature, began to falter. Instinct did not take too kindly to being muffled to a light echo. It returned with a roar, flooding my senses and reducing me to a trembling mess. I knew that just then…I screwed up.
Then why did it feel so right?
And so I ran. I ran, knowing that if we met again, he would approach, and I would be completely unable to deny him. I ran, abandoning my duties, which quite honestly I would assume Instinct would be disapproving of, not encouraging. I’ve been running like this, like a coward, and Instinct had not piped up once. In fact, the only time it made its presence known was with the sting of distaste when I considered returning to my assignment. I buried my face in my palms, a growl of frustration rumbling in my throat. I was at a loss, truly and utterly. Instinct was never wrong. God was never wrong. But…I couldn’t just abandon him. I…I couldn’t. This human was my responsibility. Mine, and mine alone. (It wasn’t like anyone else cared for him. Not like me.) Surely, not even Instinct could deny my very purpose. Could it?
“Yes,” it seethed, “yesICA–!”No. Nope. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
With newfound conviction, I stood from the rock that had patiently served as my place of contemplation for the past few days. Rapid coos and the delicate flutter of hurried wings sounded above; startled by my sudden movement, a lone dove ascended past the canopy of branches and leaves, taking to the skies above. Mouthing a silent apology, I continued, steps just as confident though made with slightly more care. It wasn’t long before the trees became sparse, and the land before me opened to reveal the crater lake, its sandy border, and the bustling city just visible beyond the rolling hills. At this point, I considered simply unfurling my wings and flying over (it’s not as though humans can see me in such a form) but…bah, his father’s apartment is close enough. Besides, if I happened to see him on my way, it would be far more troublesome to talk to him if I needed to revert back. I needed to ensure his well being via actual interaction– his guardian has been lazing around for days after all!
About half way across the open meadow, I spotted a group of adolescent children, some chattering, others busying themselves with homework or tapping away at technology. Recognizing their highschool uniforms to be the same as his, I offered them a friendly wave. Only perhaps a couple reciprocated the gesture; the majority stared momentarily, and ignored as if passing my lifted hand as an ineffective stretch. Undeterred, I trekked onward.
Making relative haste, I arrived at the apartment soon after my interaction with the students. Considering his father developed chemical weapons as a career, the apartment was exceedingly modest at best. I knocked, and pondered his father’s unfitting choice of living quarters as I waited…and waited…and….Huh. No one was coming, were they? I peered inside, only to see a dark hallway, no life in sight. Not even a pair of shoes at the doorway. No one was home. I frowned, thinking back to those students. I expected his father to be at work, sure, but the school day was over by now– long over in fact, it was almost nightfall! His father required him to assist in the lab for some time everyday (with his high position in both the workplace and his son’s life, it wasn’t difficult to assert this. Power and money truly were everything in this world…), but surely he would be back by now. Wouldn’t he?
Something could’ve changed, I realized, over the time you were gone. Days, wasn’t it? Longer hours, anything– they could’ve moved out for all you know!
I cursed my negligence. This was the consequence for incompetence. There’s no room for mistakes as an angel. I paced about the small balcony, until it hit me. His classmates! I had just seen them moments ago, no? The possibility was slim, for he is close to few, but they may provide me with some clues toof his whereabouts.
I hurried back. Luckily they were still gathered in the same spot, having yet to part ways for the night. “Hey!” I shouted. Some heads perked up. Others remained increasingly fascinated with the springy grass at their fingertips. “Anyone know where I can find the boy who lives in that apartment complex?” I pointed vaguely. “I believe he’s the third door or so? There’s something I needed to give him.” Company? Reassurance? Maybe just my time would be nice.
At this, many looked away darkly, probably deeming the conversation unworthy of time they could be spending doing nothing at all. Others exchanged glances, meaning present yet lost to me. One girl, however, rose from where she had sat plucking the petals from a carnation and walked to meet me where I stood on the outskirts of their circle. I recognized the girl, with her ginger hair, accented with two small pigtails tied with scarlet bows, and piercing, icy-pale blue eyes. I almost hadn’t quite honestly, for she was lacking her signature air of pride and superiority. On the contrary, her expression was carefully blank, if not mildly irritated by my presence, hands hanging limply at her sides rather than positioned steadily at her hips. He had a slim number of associates at school, and she was one I hesitantly acknowledged as one of them. She was aggressive, toward him– as she tended to be to all by her arrogant nature, but him especially. She was quite rude, outright condescending even. Envy, I’m sure, is a factor, for she is second to none but him in terms of academic excellence. However, it’s quite obvious to me and any who pay attention that she cares about him. Greatly, even. Too bad for her that he doesn’t respond so well to such treatment and is convinced she absolutely despises him. Considering my current situation, I stifled a sigh. Foolish humans. Always saying the very opposite of what they truly mean, what they truly desire. Can’t they see by now, that such misdirection gets them absolutely nowhere at all? There’s no need to be so…so fake, so artificial. For all that free will is supposed to teach them, they don’t really learn a whole lot, do they?
She met my gaze, neutral-faced yet with eyes slightly narrowed. “What kind of joke is this? You just….oh.” She scowled. “Right. I guess you wouldn’t know, would you, new boy?” She rummaged about the bag dangling from her shoulder, jotting something quickly upon a small scrap of paper, torn haphazardly from a notebook, and handed it to me. “Here. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Expression amicable, I accepted the paper. “Thanks!”
The girl only squinted more, eyes now reduced to slits. “How do you even know him? You in music club or something?” Her German accent was becoming more apparent. Not a good sign.
I smirked. “I play piano.” It wasn’t a lie, just not quite the answer she was looking for. Not that she needed to know that.
“Whatever.” She gave a noncommittal huff and turned away. I waved goodbye, just to be courteous, and promptly made my leave whilst peering at my guide. About an hour walk from his old apartment, it read. Mostly just walk straight, except by the train station; take a left there. It’s across from the park with the duck pond. Old apartment? So then he really did move? But why? It’s not like his father would just throw him away (again), not now that he knew of his talents. And that girl…I must say, I’ve never seen her act like that. If I didn’t know better, I would almost deem her…somber. Just much more prickly than the average somber human. A knot twisted in my stomach. Just what had I missed in my absence?
Too much. That at least was evident. But I could fix it. I had to fix it. Starting with this.
Again I decided to walk the distance, hope sparked by the vague semblance of a chance that I might run into him on the way. Suddenly I was thankful for my inability to be exhausted by physical activity. The girl was right in claiming I wouldn’t know the area. He only recently arrived in this city and didn’t wander all that much either. Therefore, neither did I. The lake was enough for me– and apparently for him too. Of course I’d known that he shared similar sentiments, yet I hadn’t predicted the possibility of us both visiting the place at once, at least with me in my wingless form. Perhaps I shouldn’t be but…I was quite glad I hadn’t.
I heard it before I saw it. I turned the corner at the station, and no sooner heard the muffled laughter of playing human children, as well as the tell tale quacking of ducks, more than likely being contentedly filled with breadcrumbs and seeds. A short while later. I was soon happy to see my suspicions confirmed. I’d arrived. Now, just take a turn and…
My breath hitched.
That’s…that’s not another apartment….
Rows and rows of..gray, empty, cold, gray….
It was a cemetery. She had given me directions to a…cemetery.
I bolted. Toward the steadily growing mass of gray. There was a ringing noise. Where’d the children and the ducks and the people and cars and the trains all go?
I passed one tablet after another. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not–
here.
I couldn’t see. There was just gray. Blurred, hollow, dead gray. The world swayed.
Where was he? Where was he?
Please…don’t leave me here alone.
I dont..I dont wanna be…
alone again….
Orange. The world swayed, steadied, and became orange.
Sound returned all at once. The lake, the wind, the cicadas. My breathing, sparrotic and hurried.
Oh, Instinct was here too. “Wrong,” it chastised, “wrong wrong wrongwrong–”
“Hey…um, are you okay? You just…you look a little sick or something….”
My head snapped upwards, and met deep blue. His gaze bore into me, all worry and bewilderment and navy blue. A small concerned frown. A hesitative hand, elevated as if to reach out.
I was made of air. Was this relief? Mere…relief?
“No…of course not.” I grinned…at least I believe I did. I’m unsure if this feeling could be expressed with only a grin.
“How could I be?”
* * *
Loop 1
He died. I can acknowledge it now; he was dead.
Was dead.
It was strange. I’d always wondered why humans differentiated the now and the to be. I assumed it was some weakness of mortality. As an angel, dividing time into little segments was an odd concept to me. But now, at least I understood a little. Saw the slight difference that there is. Somehow, I had gone back. Back to when he was alive, when all was well. Back, or now, meant he was alive. Then, the ‘to be’, meant he wasn’t.
I don’t know how I did it. I don’t even know if it was me. But he was back, and that was all that mattered.
I couldn’t waste this. I couldn’t afford to lose him again.
At this thought, Instinct offered its input. “Wrong, wrong!” it chimed, sounding more like a broken record player than divine insight. “Wrongwrongwrong!”
Oh, shut it, will you? I snarled back. You’ve been quiet for a while now. I was rather enjoying the peace!
It did. How pleasant.
While it did take a short while to assure him that I was (now) completely fine, our conversation proceeded as normal. Having extinguished the panic that came over me the first time, however, I made certain to have him agree to meet here once again tomorrow. That much was simple; he took to the idea as readily as I did myself.
Regardless of what Instinct thought, my task, created by this so-called ‘loop’, was quite clear to me. I failed as his guardian last time– this time, I could not. However, being his guardian would entail much different criteria than any other assignment I have tackled throughout my existence. His main conflict was that of loneliness; I would provide company. Everyday, without fail. I would be there for him. When no one else was.
Of course this came with appropriate limitations. It is not as though I could be by his side at literally all times, even though some part of me was reluctant to take the risk of even momentary separation. No, no, that was too much. He was still a human– he deserved to live. I was an angel, and could not interfere with this right. My job was to simply ensure that right. Perhaps I could supervise his commute once in a while, if I felt the day’s tensions to be high. However, he would be alright at school, and probably even the laboratory– the substances created there were of the lethal sort, sure, but those were human substances. I wasn’t sure how much help I could be as an angel; knowledge about such things was beyond me. Besides, his father’s coworkers were relatively fond of him, and definitely wouldn’t allow him to be seriously injured under their supervision. Even when he was with his father, I needn’t worry for his life. As much as I despised the man (despised, wasn’t that new? I guess God isn’t the only one who can judge humans), I knew he wouldn’t cause him physical harm– his genius is much too valuable. The emotional harm though….that was inevitable, given their relationship. I loathed to admit it, but I knew there wasn’t much I could do about that. Angels have little influence when it comes to the actions of humans; advice is about our limit, and advice is but noise when no one is willing to listen. From what I could see from the old man, a nice chat about his parental skills was not going to work. But hopefully, hopefully, by being there for him, I could slowly help repair the damage.
And so my plan proceeded, and swimmingly at that. In some days following the start of this loop, my guidance managed to steer him clear of what would’ve been a deadly scenario. All I did was convince him to take another route to school the following morning (“I heard there’s going to be some sale at that department store near the station; it’ll be pretty congested there, especially in the morning!”) and sure enough, he was kept far away from what was a devastating car crash. I presumed this is what killed him before, as it did occur during what previously was my time of spineless retreat. Part of me sagged in immense relief– the most imminent danger that I could see was behind us. The other part was chilled, frightened by how easily, how mundanely, humans can disappear as if they never existed in the first place.
Well. I wasn’t going to allow something like that to happen to him.
Today it was about that time again, the only time that truly mattered, when everything was tinged a delicate apricot and the world sang with vibrant life. I saw him approach, with his shy yet cheerful expression that seemed to brighten everyday. This time I noticed one slight difference– he was holding a small rectangular…thing. Upon closer inspection, when I noticed the two bright red earbuds that sprouted from the object, I recognized it to be a portable cassette player. I didn’t hide my shock as he took his perch by my side. Most humans these days use phones and the like for such things! I hadn’t seen one of these in ages.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
I chuckled. “Music. It enriches the heart. It’s humanity’s highest cultural achievement. Don’t you agree?”
He hummed in understanding. “Of course. It’s quite nice. Blocks things out.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” I mused. “Well, what’re you listening to?”
“Oh, you’ll like it,” he offered one of the earbuds with a sly smile. “I mean you hum it practically every second.”
“Do I?”
I did.
Beethoven’s 9th and final symphony drifted in from my right, with powerful notes that have lasted centuries without losing an inch of elegance.
“Did you know there are lyrics?” I queried.
“Hmm…right, there are. From a poem I think. By Frederick Schiller, or something like that.” He shifted into a more comfortable position. “It’s easy to forget, what with the song alone being so iconic. I guess that’s what’s really impressive about music, isn’t it? It doesn’t need something as unreliable as words to give it meaning. Hell, even Shakespeare admitted that– about words anyway. And he was a playwright; words were his life.”
Ironically, we did not converse much today. Rather, we sat and listened to music. There was more beyond track 24, I realized. The 25th track started to play once Ode to Joy was over, but he fiddled with the walkman quickly, and the 23rd played. He would repeat this every time a song ended, going backwards until we reached the first. We never did listen to track 25.
Far too soon, nightfall swept away the evening skies. Given we were so close to the city, the stars that could be seen were few, yet those few shone bright and determined nonetheless. Once his last track came to close (a song I didn’t recognize, to our collective shock. I enjoyed it all the same), he wrapped the cords neatly about the walkman and hopped down from our rock. He was continuing as usual until he paused abruptly, spinning about on his feet and facing me again, eyes wide. “Ah! I almost forgot!” He bounded back to me. “Just so you know, I’ll probably be a little late tomorrow. I’m finishing up something pretty important at my Dad’s work, so I’ll be there a bit longer.”
It was strange. I don’t think I’d ever seen a smile so blatantly strained yet genuine all the same. It wasn’t something I liked seeing. Not on him.
I fought a glower, not wanting him to mistake the target as himself. Damn old man. Making him waste his life away on your pretty little science experiments. I settled for a raised eyebrow instead.
The smile remained, as if stapled on. “It’s not a big deal– trust me, really! I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“…Right. Of course.”
The next day arrived. I spent the evening alone. I didn’t feel right, without him. The skies and the waters were not orange. They felt more so yellow, like some cheap, faded imitation. Nightfall came. And lasted. And he never did come.
It went from yellow to deep blue. It reminded me of him. But kept waiting like this, all I could think of was gray.
This was later, right? He said he’d come later. But he isn’t here. Is he okay?
I thought of his father. His empty, unfeeling expression, eyes hidden by square-rimmed glasses. Somehow, I felt as though his expression wouldn’t change even without the glasses.
That’s it. If he can’t come to me, I’ll simply come to him.
I checked the apartment first. Yanked at knob. No one home.
Alright then–next up, high-security government facility. This one might prove to be more trying than the apartment. Not as if I cared. I’d do anything for him. Anything at all.
Once again I chose running as my preferred method of travel. I neared the station, hearing the laughter and quacks all over again and immediately turned away from it, toward the station, I couldn’t, not again–
And there he was. On a bench in front of the station, head facing downwards. Reassurance was a wave, washing over me and filling my lungs and forcing up relieved laughter. Upon seeing the blank look with which he stared intently at the concrete below, the sensation ran cold. I promptly sat myself close to him, shoulders brushing. Not my first choice of location, this station, but it would do.
“So what did you wanna talk about?”
“Huh?” It was a hollow noise. My heart squeezed.
“There’s something you wanted to tell me about, isn’t there?” I prodded. I eased one of his hands from his lap where it trembled and held it in my own grasp, gentle yet unyielding.
Initially he flinched, a sharp, jolting thing, startled by the sudden contact. Slowly, slowly, the shaking ceased. Hesitantly yet gradually more firm, he returned the small embrace. He took a small, shuddering breath, then a steadier one.
“A lot has happened since I came here. Before, I was staying with a teacher. Old friend of my mom’s, supposedly. Days there were calm and uneventful. I was taking up space— but that was just fine with me! I didn’t have anything else I wanted to do.”
“You don’t like other people?”
“It’s not that. Just…don’t care, I guess. But I always knew I didn’t like my father. Even so…” his voice had dropped to a whisper. “Even so, when I came here, when he made me work with him, all I could think about was making him proud. I was ready, ready to help make those poisons, those weapons, useless little things that will ultimately be worth nothing but a headcount.” His grip tightened. “I perfected it, you know? It was a weapon of my mother’s design. She died before she could complete it. No else could make heads or tails of it. But…I did it. I did it, and I did it for him, because even if he hated me he loved her, and…I just thought it would make him happy. It did, it definitely did, but not for me. Only the creation. Not me. Never for me. I wanted to be a worthy son. All I did was become a murderer.” He looked up, peered into my soul with blue, quivering, pearly blue. A wobbly smile to match. “I’m being selfish, aren’t I? A sniveling, selfish coward. I tell myself, over and over, that I mustn’t run away, I mustn’t run away. But in the end, it’s all I do. No wonder he can’t stand me. I’d…I-I’d understand if you felt the same.”
Why..? Why did he…? Just…Damn him. Damn that old man.
“No. Just…no. I could never. I could never think of you in such a way. In fact, I was thinking…”
I beamed. I tried to put everything in my expression. I didn’t want him to just hear it.
He needed to know it.
“I was thinking that perhaps I was born just so I could meet you.”
Silence was all that followed– that, and a warm weight propped against my shoulder. It was nice.
“Hey,” I murmured.
“Hm?” His voice was muffled, face pressed to my side.
“Let’s come back here tomorrow. There’s a piano in the station. Bring your cello, and we’ll perform a duet. Of Ode to Joy.”
“…I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
“Alright! It’s a date!”
He nestled closer in response. Then suddenly, he rose. “I…I’d better get going. It’s getting late. I’ll see you then.”
I hesitated. No. No, I could not hesitate. Not any more.
He needed to know. He needed to know.
“You don’t deserve it. Being alone.”
He stopped, yet did not turn back. He let out a dry chuckle, equal parts sorrowful and elated. “No. I don’t deserve you.”
Morning came and went, and the skies were dyed orange. It was time, Ode to Joy on my tongue. I’d meet him at his apartment, I decided, and we’d tread the way together. Cellos were deceptively lightweight, yet nonetheless awkward and bulky. I was sure he wouldn’t mind the assistance, and knew he wouldn’t protest the company. We had plenty more to discuss, after last night. If anything, I hoped the music would convey what I failed to.
This time the door was unlocked. Perhaps he anticipated my arrival– wouldn’t shock me. I was pleased to see only his shoes placed in the entrance; his father was at work. Our evening would remain untainted by that filth.
“Hello? Anyone home?” I waited expectantly.
Silence.
I felt cold. Steps rigid, I took to the hallway. Found the door I knew to be his. It was open ajar.
“A-are you alright? Hello?”
I pushed it open.
I could see–
Blood.
Steely-sweet on my lips; I could taste it. Sticky, warm, permeating the air; I could breathe it. Crimson, deep and thick, bubbling to the surface and streaming— it wouldn’t stop—pooling, thickly, sickeningly, hot and frigid— I could feel it, feel it on my—hands….my hands are red—my hands are red—MY HANDS ARE RED—
And blue. And blue, blue of his eyes, clouded in delirium. Blue, misted blue, met my red, my horrible, heinous red—
And glowed. Dully.
A weak grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Of recognition, of warmth.
The glow faded.
The smile did not.
* * *
Loop 2
“Hey…um, are you okay? You just…you look a little–”
I didn’t wait. I lunged, and wrapped my arms about him tightly, afraid even the slightest breeze would take him away from me. His flustered exclamations were miles afar. For now, all there was, was him.
Him, and red.
It was all I could see. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand, because the world was orange again, yet my sight was still dripping crimson.
His father. I smoldered at the mere thought of that pathetic excuse for a human being. I had been foolish. I was to fault for his death. But not just for my subpar skills as a guardian, as a companion.
I’d underestimated him. I had thought that for all the man was terrible, he did not pose a threat of mortal danger to his son. But I was wrong. The old man would never kill him physically, that much was true.
He’d ruin his heart. Not damage, ruin.
And he, lost, so horribly alone, would finish the job with his own blade.
It was my fault. But it was also his. That goddamned old man.
I wouldn’t stand for it.
I found him quickly. Domineering stature, harsh and proper attire, and uninterested mien. I dove forth, wings of pearly white sweeping in wide arcs. In my right hand materialized the Holy Lance, the Lance of Longinus, with its twisted twin prongs of glittering scarlet. I thrust forward.
I saw blood again.
I saw red again.
I could taste it; I could breathe it; I could feel it.
I reveled in it.
The points of the Lance shot cleanly through the imbecile’s chest and throat. A choked grunt and faint gurgle joined the crazed laughter that tore through the air and hung there, heavily, with the scent of blood. More still surged from the wounds, seeping into his clothes and staining his white gloves red.
My wings gleamed pure white.
His glasses had fallen to the ground, cracked and lightly splattered with blood. I stared into his eyes, long and hard. Wide, shocked eyes, vacant eyes that no longer saw anything at all. I grinned wildly. It was about time someone took those things off.
I removed the Lance from the limp corpse, which fell with a resounding, wet thud. Promptly I raised my weapon, readying for a second blow. For old time’s sake.
There was a pull. And I no longer saw red.
I saw orange.
…And blue.
I blinked. And blinked again. My crazed vigor blew out like a candle flame. Just like that. The horrid laughter, my laughter, still echoed in my ears. Haunting me.
I gaped at him despairingly. He returned this with a look of innocent concern.
How?
How…How did….
How did you still die?
Loop 4
I’ll try killing him again. I-I have to right? He can’t be happy while this one is alive, can he? He’ll die, inevitably, if he’s spared, right?
Loop 5
It didn’t work. He died anyway.
It was harder this time. Killing him.
Loop 37
I was right about the car crash.
Loop 162
I haven’t heard from Instinct since the first loop. It’s for the best. I wonder if ‘Instinct’ was truly a good name for it.
Maybe the humans had it right all along.
Loop 871
There was a botched experiment. Much like the one that killed his mother.
I was there this time. I was hoping it would kill me along with him. It did not. It tickled if anything. I blinked again to see orange. Human poison really does work best on themselves.
Loop 3,967
This one would be it. I would save him this time. This is it.
Loop 3,968
….
Loop ??
….
Loop ???
….
Loop ????
We finally got to play that duet. It was nice while it lasted.
Loop ?????
I don’t know when I’ll finally save him.
I don’t know if. I think that’s what has taken me the longest to come to terms with.
But then I think of his smile. His blue eyes. And I realize it doesn’t matter.
Past, present, or future. I don’t think it matters to me where I find myself. I suppose there is a difference, as I came to understand early on. But not a great one. It’s still just time, isn’t it? I won’t pretend I am wise or great enough to comprehend such a concept. Ironic enough, considering the circumstances.
As long as he is there, I will be content. If he is happy, I will be happy.
I think I can keep going for that.
I saw orange. I saw blue. I saw him.
I spoke to him.
“You are extremely afraid of any kind of initial contact, aren’t you? Are you that afraid of other people? I know that by keeping others at a distance, you avoid a betrayal of your trust. But while you may not be hurt that way, you mustn’t forget that you must endure the loneliness. Men cannot erase this sadness, because all men are fundamentally alone….
You know, pain is something man must endure in his heart. And since the heart feels pain so easily, some believe life is pain. You are delicate, like glass— especially your heart.”
“I am?”
“Yes, and worth earning my empathy.”
“Empathy?”
“I’m saying I love you.”