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"But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more."
- The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen
He wasn’t expecting this to happen to him.
Of all people in the world, it had to be him.
There was already too much on his plate for him to deal with. Still, life had given him the middle finger and a malicious “Fuck you!” to the face.
Under the vivid hues of twilight, Mathias ran out of his house, leaving a trail of vibrant crimson flowers with each step. He was scrunched over on the ground, his left hand clutching his stomach while his right was over his chest. He was coughing his lung out, the same but bloodied flowers spewing out of his mouth. It had been a painful ordeal, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted to cry, and yet he couldn’t. There were no tears, despite the immense anguish and sorrow in him. Pleas were screamed into the heavens, but they all fell onto deaf ears. There was no one to rescue him from his affliction.
And yet, while he suffered, his mind began recalling those serene and wonderful days, each memory accompanied by a bursting cough of bloodied flowers.
It had been a shitty day.
He forgot his laptop at home, and along with it, his drafts. His papers got lost somewhere, leaving him with nothing to submit for his classes. Worse still, his bullies had found him that day and left him with bruises everywhere.
He thought that bullying would stop at high school, where everyone was still too immature to understand the consequences of their actions. He was wrong. It followed him to college, fiercer and with greater malice.
Gone were the days where the punches and kicks were solely delivered to non-obvious spots on his body. Gone were the days where the usual maltreatment was being tripped on the hallway. Gone were the days where whispers about him that spread were childish.
Now, he would be lucky if any physical injury he got from his bullies would be directed towards his stomach or have none of his possessions taken away from him forcefully.
Mathias left the college grounds sporting a nasty bruise on his right cheek and a cut on his lower lip. He tasted blood in his mouth but made no endeavor to get the metallic tang out. His hood covered his face, not wanting to experience more humiliation in public with the state that he was in.
He saw him on his way home, in a small restaurant with someone. He was talking to them, his face ever-stern but kind. Those jade eyes had a placid gleam, eyes wrinkling moments later as his mouth curves into a gentle smile. The smile was gone as quick as it came, returning into a thin, thoughtful crease. His partner, on the other hand, spoke lively, evident by their gestures and expressions.
Oh, how he longed to be that person! How he longed for his love! His heart drowned in envy as pale azure eyes hid a greenish hue. It ached and ached, his sadness intensifying by the sight that he beheld. When he couldn’t bear the pain no longer, he ran home. Every second of the way, his mouth dripped with a bitter resentment as he cussed whatever deities that existed with a litany of curses.
He made it with relatively little fanfare. The front door was opened, the creaking sound permeating the silence that lived in his home.
"I’m home.” Broken speech, akin to a music box that was out of tune.
The door was closed, a click following soon after. And yet, it was the only response he got.
He wanted to cry, let his suffering out. But there was none.
All that he could do was wallow in his despair.
His face flashed in his mind, having a soft smile.
It made him cough even more flowers, a trail of blood running from the corner of his mouth. The mere act of breathing had been accompanied by pain, making him wince and struggle as he tried to stop the outflux of flowers.
He really couldn’t get mad at him, nor scorn him for making him suffer this terrible disease. All he had towards him was love and devotion, even if it wasn’t reciprocated. Being by his side as a friend had been enough for the Dane, despite the pain blooming in his heart.
He had been a friend that he made in college, and the only one that stuck with him despite the torment and rumors.
There was always a gruff tone with his remarks, as if telling him that he could be doing other things that would make him money. And yet, he always helped him whenever he needed help. He never pressed him about the issues he faced. It was always just a silent acceptance from him.
But now, he became the source of his suffering, much to his dismay.
And it worsened further as another memory played in his mind.
Work had been slow that day.
There were only a few customers in the café, which left him rather bored. Most of their customers had ordered already and went to their own spot, doing whatever business they had. Some came to order out, leaving the moment their drink was in their hands. Mathias itched to have a break, having an inkling that there wouldn’t be much people that would arrive.
The chime of the bell broke him off from his thoughts, prompting him to greet their customer with a jovial grin and their customary greeting.
"Hello! Welcome to The Little Bakery!”
When he saw who it was, his face threatened to turn scarlet. He fought down the blush that wanted to show and kept his tone jolly. The person of his affections scanned their daily selections of pastries quietly, as if mulling over in his head the pros and cons of each pastry in conjunction with the price. Mathias had waited patiently for his order, just to prevent him for exposing his endearment for the other.
His patience was rewarded with the pleasing baritone lilt of his voice.
“I’ll have an almond Danish, along with a regular cup of coffee. For here.”
His voice was a symphony in his ears, regaling him. He responded with an innocent smile.
“It’ll be $4.50. And your name for the order?”
"Abel.”
The reply was succinct, accompanied with exact payment. However, it was enough for Mathias. He finally knew his name, after pining for so long. He courteously asked Abel to find a seat, joyously making his order extra special.
Once he had warmed the Danish and made the coffee, he served it to Abel personally. He gave off another smile, after telling him to enjoy, before going back behind the counter. There, his gaze fell upon the impassive Dutch, his heart leaping for joy.
Mathias had been brought to the ground, the pain becoming too much for him to bear. In front of him was an absurd number of flowers he coughed, enough to produce two distinct bouquets. Whites, yellows, reds, and purples were scattered around, the petals speckled with blood. Breathing had become a near-impossible task at that point, leaving him light-headed. His throat was littered with wounds, blood seeping out and dripping from his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot, the coughs harsh enough to rupture the blood vessels, leaving his vision blurry. Still, there were no tears falling.
The final thing he registered was the gentle rays of light and its warmth before his mind replayed what would become his final memory.
It was painful. His body was littered with discolored bruises, old and new. His gait was heavy, limping due to a sore leg. His nose hurt, broken and bleeding.
Mathias had failed to escape his bullies, which only earned him their ire and contempt against him. He never knew how they got wind of things. He made sure that they would never know about his inclinations. He hid his glances, forced himself to calm down in front of him, fought his blushes down, and decreased his enthusiasm. Still, they were not enough.
He had been beaten thoroughly. Their words were as scathing and hurtful as the punches and kicks he received. They took their time oppressing him, eyes glinting in condescension and mouths contorted to sneers. When they had been satisfied unloading their aggression onto him, they left him alone to lick his wounds.
Dusk had begun settling when Mathias could force himself to move, having laid down on the campus grounds for an unknown amount of time. He pulled the hood of his jacket once more, with the intention of hiding his face. Luck was on his side at that time, for nearly all the students had gone home when it happened. Still, he didn’t want to be seen in the state he was in. His jacket was recognizable enough, despite it being dirtied and ripped in various places. And so, he slowly limped home, dragging his bag by his side.
What foiled his plan was his sudden appearance. Mathias wasn’t angry at him for showing up, but humiliation starting blooming in him. Out of all the people to see him beaten and bruised, he never wished for Abel to be the one. Concern laced his tone, his hand gentle and apprehensive. Despite the benign touches, he winced in pain whenever there was contact. Abel had asked him about what happened, but Mathias couldn’t bring himself to say anything regarding the matter. The other took his silence as is, asking no more. Abel just took his bag and slowly brought him to his car.
There, he was seated inside. Abel carefully fastened the seatbelt around him, making sure that he was safe. He then went to the driver’s seat, did the same for his own seatbelt, and began driving. The Dutch had asked him about the whereabouts of his home, to which Mathias replied weakly. Abel then drove him home slowly, trying not to make him feel more pain.
When they arrived, he had been brought inside quickly. Mathias was sat on the couch while Abel made a beeline for the bathroom. Everything had been a blur for him afterwards. He returned to his senses with Abel at his sights, frowning in concern. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged to the best of the Dutch’s abilities. Still, he was silent, unable to say a word.
Abel had reassured him that night, comforting him from his sorrows. He gave Mathias a shoulder to lean and cry on, to which the Dane was able to do only the former. When it had been time for him to leave, Abel explicitly made sure that he had a friend in him, that he would help him with whatever problem he had.
He left with little fanfare, leaving only silence in his wake.
Mathias wanted to feel happy that Abel had treated him like a friend, even if he looked like a substitute for a punching bag. And yet, he felt somewhat disappointed that he was only a friend, even if he never told the other about his feelings.
His love was doomed to be unrequited.
He wanted to cry so badly.
But what he got was a cough, followed by a flower petal.
He was dying.
Mathias laid on the ground, weakened. Death had enveloped him in a cold embrace. His breaths were shallow and few; his skin took a pallid tone, giving greater contrast to the crimson blood on him.
Still, his heart panged in sorrow. Even in death, he was dolorous. There was nothing to comfort him in his dying moments.
He gave off his final breaths, heart heavy with pain and grief.
His voice, silenced in his life, uttered his final words.
His eyes, blank and red, stared at the rising sun as tears ran down his face.
His ears, having heard only malice, shut itself off.
Finally, his soul, worn and world-weary, laid his woes to rest.
The world had taken pity on Mathias Køhler. At his death, the sun rose enough to bathe the dying child with its warm rays, staving off the chilling touch of death. The wind had blown the flowers to the house of a certain Abel de Ryke, scattering them inside his room. The birds around weren’t chirping, lamenting the death of a forsaken child.
Mathias Køhler had vanished shortly after his death. The body slowly turned into foam, floating to the sky. All that remained of his earthly body was a flower, purple and yellow, akin to the pains he had experienced.
“Then the little mermaid lifted her transparent arms towards God’s sun, and for the first time, shed tears.”
- The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen