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“Char.” The voice calling him is familiar, the way it says his name is so intimate but it feels as if he’s heard it a million times. No face can be seen in the darkness, even with his eyes pinched close to look through it. “Char.” Despite that, it still sounds so close, almost all-encompassing in its volume.
“Char.” Looking down, he sees hands, not his own but those of another. Frail, long fingers with nails that are meticulously cared for and palms soft as a baby’s. Hands of a man who doesn’t know the troubles of the world. “Char.”
He knows this voice as if it were his own, feels the call of his name vibrate through his throat. This voice is…
“Char.” Garma. Lips tip up in a smile and the feeling stretches across his face as if his muscles are long out of commission. “Hello, Char,” the smiling voice calls.
All his attempts to speak are futile, though it’s likely because he’s unsure what he’d say if he could talk. What can he say? What would solve this problem he holds so deep in his heart? Killing one’s best friend… killing someone you loved. There’s no recompense.
“It’s okay, Char, you don’t have to say anything. I know it’s been difficult, I’ve been watching. I’ve been watching you.” Fists clench as a frown mars his beautiful face, the tight skin stretching over the knuckles a sure sign that it has begun to rot. “I feel destined to fade from this world. I feel it in my rickety bones, and in the loose grasp my mind has over my consciousness.”
A single tear falls from his dry eyes and he can feel the dust wicking away across his sallow cheeks. More follow, the tears of a long-dead corpse begging to be brought back to life. He wishes he knew how to stop them.
“But you, Char, you won’t let me go. Won’t let me fade away.” The tears that make a puddle at their feet are a combination of them both, a horrid mess of salt and water and agony that won’t stop. If it stops, is there any way to move forward? If you forget the love you’ve gained and lost, is there truly any way to continue? “And I want to thank you for that.”
The downpour slows and around him the darkness glows, showering light across the empty space. There’s something else residing in this darkness. Hope.
“Remember me, Char, but remember me fondly. You keep me here, make my existence happy.” He smiles again, more gently this time, and it feels just as it had when Char used to tease him. Small and shy, sweet and gentle. Just like Garma. And he remembers the good times, their days at the academy and his foolish naivete. He adores it, that smile.
“I will.” His voice is his own once more, and Garma is in front of him, wearing the clothes he died in. But he doesn’t look sad, in fact, his smile is wider than it ever has been as he walks back to Char.
“Lift your arms.” Char does as he’s told and immediately Garma’s arms are around his waist and his head against his chest and all the tension flies from Char’s body. The darkness that surrounds them now sits outside a bubble. A forcefield created by the strength of their love.
They hold each other tightly, Char strokes Garma’s hair as his other hand grasps him against his body, willing the other to stay with him forever. Two bodies sink into each other, melding again and becoming one. Becoming whole.