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Sabaism- the worship of the stars, and those who come from them.
Benji sat on the balcony outside his crappy motel room, with half an empty bottle of scotch in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. His legs dangled dangerously over the side, threatening to break if he fell, but he doubted that he would feel it if he did. He would die instantly at this height. London was spread out like a map in front of him, and the harsh, late, October wind - which although wasn’t freezing yet, certainly promised a violent winter to come- struck at his face as he took it all in. The city he had been born in, the city he had been raised in, and the city he had nearly died in. It had used to feel like home, an old comforting friend he could return to after many a difficult mission, but there had been to many accounts of bombs, injuries, gun fights, deaths and many other awful things in it for it to hold any real comfort any more. It was just a city now to him- no different to any other in the world.
Benji took a final long drag of the cigarette, then watched as the smoke curled from his lips and twisted up into the grey sky. He knew he shouldn’t smoke, and he rarely indulged in his temptations to- but today he couldn’t care less. He washed down the taste with more scotch, it’s taste burning away any remains of the cigarette, before dropping the paper thing over the edge. He watched it fall, fluttering and extinguishing in its descent to the ground.
Today, was not a good day. It was one of the few, when Benji allowed himself to toss aside the man he usually was and become what he was now, a mess. It felt so damn good, not to have to force a smile, or pretend to laugh at something- and the irony alone in that nearly killed the technician. It was funny in a way, he thought. In a very sick, twisted way. He swigged at his bottle again.
Today he was mourning. Mourning the man whom he had been seven years years ago, and the memories he had made then. He had changed so much in such a short time, he scarcely recognised himself in the mirror anymore. What had happened to the excitable, happy-go-lucky technician? Where had the young, intelligent, and witty man he had been content in being gone? Fuck knows. Benji didn’t feel like he knew much anymore. He looked in the mirror now, and saw a stranger with purple and bleach coloured bruises on their neck, scars carved into their back, and a pair of eyes that certainly didn’t belong to him. They belonged to a depressed, tired and scared man.
He remembers the days they had shone the brightest. Back when he had first fallen for his best friend, Ethan. In his mind, Ethan had been made of light, he had been the man that would make the sun rise and the skies fall like rain. He was perfection in human form, what with his stunning face, his amazing body that would always pick Benji up, and his glorious personality. Benji had been willing to follow Ethan to the end of the Earth, and so he had, multiple times. He had killed for Ethan, gone against the law more times than he could count, hell, he had even allowed himself to be strapped up to a bomb big enough to blow up a quarter of the city in front of him for the man. And the funniest part- he’d even believed that he’d stood a chance with the older agent.
He knew now how stupid, and naive he had been. He had long since realised Ethan didn’t care for him that way. Not that Benji could blame him, Ethan was strong and capable and beautiful, and Benji was, well, Benji. A stumbling, useless fucking disaster that was no good to anyone. He still loved Ethan, of course he did. Would he still die for him? Yes. Would he still slaughter just to see him alive? Without a doubt. But he would no longer go out his way to see him outside of work, or really chat to him in the office. It was too painful, and Benji knew it was selfish, but he didn’t care. He was too old for false hope now, but young enough to watch from a distance and wish of what could have been.
Benji bent down, and undid his shoelace, before chucking his shoe over the balcony. He watched it fall, just as he had the cigarette, and observed soundlessly how it’s path down to the dirty pavement below was so much faster and erupt. He did the same with the other, and pondered to himself how his body would fall in the same scenario. He would never do it, he still had too much going - but still. The thought was there.
He nearly dropped his bottle when he heard footsteps behind him. He spun abruptly, half expecting it to be Lane or some other person trying to kill him. But it wasn’t. It was only Luther. Good, old, faithful Luther. Benji nearly broke down with relief. The larger man walked over, and sat himself next to Benji, before yanking the bottle out of his hand and gulping down a load himself.
“How’d you find me?” Benji hoarsely choked.
“Benji, I can find anyone.” Luther replied, the bottle now balancing between his legs. “And you’re predictable.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not feeling good today?”
“Nah.” Benji mumbled. “Haven’t in a while.”
“Ethan huh?”
“When is it not.”
Benji sighed, and swung his legs back and forth. “I just- I just wanna give up sometimes ya know? I feel like it’s suffocating me.”
“Hm.” Luther considered. He knew about Ethan of course, he had known from day one. At first Benji had had to bribe and threaten him in all sorts of ways in fear that he would tell someone. Benji found himself not really caring now.
“He’s so damn stupid. I hate him.”
“No, you don’t.” Luther said.
“No. I don’t. And that’s the problem.” Benji muttered. “He used to make me so happy. Now everything’s just grey.”
Luther said nothing, and just passed Benji the bottle. It was near empty now. Benji was glad Luther was quiet, it made it easier to talk.
“He’s gonna kill himself one day, what with all those fucking risks he takes. And what will I have then?” He gulped down the last of the liquor.
“Us.” Luther softly replied. Benji turned and looked at him, and he smiled lightly. He really didn’t deserve Luther, has was too good a friend. But he didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. All was conveyed in the way he leant his head against his friends shoulder, and breathed out deeply.
It wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay. But that was fine. Luther made it fine. And so, for the first time in weeks, Benji allowed himself to cry.