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Places we won’t walk
[INT. SCOTLAND, A DAISY TONNER SAFEHOUSE]
[TAPE CLICKS ON.]
[SHUFFLING SOUND – SEEMS LIKE THE ARCHIVIST IS TRYING TO GET COMFORTABLE WHILE THEY SIT ON THE BED SHARED BY THEM AND MARTIN]
[THE ARCHIVIST EXHALES, SOMEWHAT SHAKILY.]
[SOMETHING CREAKS.]
[THEY BREATHES AGAIN.]
[MORE CREAKING.]
ARCHIVIST
[SMALL COUGH]
Right.
[SOUND OF THEM CLEARING THEIR THROAT]
Maybe I should do the whole statement of blank blank regarding... but (a small exhale of laughter filled with melancholy) you would probably say that I am being “too ominous”. I am trying to work on that, uh, um for you.
[SOUND OF THE BED CREAKING – THE ARCHIVIST MOVES AND READJECTS THEMSELVES TO FIND A COMFORTABLE POSITIONS TO SIT]
ARCHIVIST
I want you to know that (strains their voice) I love you. ( fabric from the bed rustles) (they sigh) (they speak with an audible smile) a lot (they chuckle and deeply inhale and speak with a near whisper) a lot. I never said it back to you, did I? Well, Martin Blackwood, I love you so, so much.
[PAUSE]
This tape isn't for the eye. It’s for you. If you’re listening to this, it means that something may have happened to me and I’m probably gone. It is inevitable, isn’t it? My demise. Even now, when I am in the arms of your comfort, I feel as if my demise is only a breath away. It will happen, and maybe, it will be the only way to stop the mess I have turned the world into. I can’t comprehend how I feel, so, so alive , but can also feel the chilling breath of death down the back of my neck. (pause silence) It is inevitable , as the end takes all; it can wait, patience isn’t something it compromises, and it can wait for years even when time itself has lost its meaning and doesn’t have space to define it. It is in evitable .
[ARCHIVIST PAUSES]
[ THE WIND OUTSIDE IS HOWLING]
[THE FOUNDATION OF THE HOUSE CREAKS ABNORMALLY]
However, I won’t leave behind this world for you; I will make sure of it. You don’t deserve a world like this. You don’t deserve to live in a world like this. I will make sure to stop it, even if, umm, even it results in the in evitable grasping my neck more expeditiously than it had anticipated. I will stop the everlasting storm, and bring the calm, even if the price I have to pay for that exchange is myself. You deserve to live in a world where you get to love and be loved.
When this all dies down, all of this, Elias, the Avatars, and even me, please Martin, remember that, no matter what choice I make, no matter what choice you have to make, it's not your fault. It is never your fault.
[A SMALL CHUCKLE IS LET OUT BY THE ARCHIVIST]
ARCHIVIST
But we never really had a choice in anything did we? We didn’t choose this path. The choice was never in our hands, but one choice that I’m glad I made was being here with you, Martin. (Exhales a deep and long breath as they try to clear their throat)
[THE BED SHARED BY THE ARCHIVIST AND MARTIN SQUEAKS AS THE ARCHIVIST MOVES AROUND IT]
ARCHIVIST
( Laughs humorlessly ) If only we had more time, just a little more time. There are so many places I wanted to take you, so many beautiful places that now we’ll never be able to see together. I wanted to take you to the states. So big over there that the boundlessness of the world feels debilitating, as you are left pondering about the insignificance of your being in the miles and miles of field painted with wheat, as well as in the forest of colossal sky-scrapes that feel as it is only inches away from defying god and touching the sky.
I wanted to take you to China, a land where the culture and its history is so bewitchingly embedded into the cobblestone of its city today, where thousands of star-like lights prance around you, engulfing you in an embrace of incandescence. It’s mesmerizing.
To Ny-Alesund as well. That place is a paradox to me. When the sun is at its highest, the world seems so bleak, with only the white snow covering the periphery, however, as soon as the darkness reigns the sky, (their voice crescendos by the end of the sentence) greens and blues stretch over the seemingly endless sky; so elegant in its movement, never making a sound for something so huge, beautiful, endless and bright. (giggling softly) So cold but the Northern Lights are magnificent. So bright. So breathtaking.
(They pause and start talking slowly, monochrome, and blank ) Now we’ll never be able see it together. Because of Jonah (they said the last word with spit and bitterness). Because of me.
[PAUSE]
[THE WIND ROARS LOUDLY]
[THE ARCHIVIST EXHALES, SOMEWHAT SHAKILY.]
[SOMETHING CREAKS.]
[HE BREATHES AGAIN.]
[MORE CREAKING.]
(somewhat shaky) There were many things I wanted to do with you, but time was never on our side, was it? I feel so envious of time, as it watches us and mocks how we kept missing our steps in our dance towards each other, only later realising that we were dancing different melodies with different pacing and rhythms, but only when we were able to hear the other’s song, we were able to be in-sync with our movement. However, by the time we were able to grasp each other’s hands, the song had ended, and only the silence of the empty void of where the tune once was remained.There is so much I wanted to do with you, the many sides of the world I wanted to show you, only if time would let us. (sigh of exhaustion) Time is cruel and our luck is rotten, and there is no cure for that. We are stuck with that, left with a longing to do things that time didn’t allow us to do.
(melancholy fondness) I never got to take you to Bournemouth. You would have really loved it there. (laughs gently and with utter softness) The teal water that stretches for miles and miles, with the blue sky kissing the sea that it so deeply yearns for after the eons of separation. The beaches there, too. I bet you would have loved to sink your feet into the hot sands, feeling the warmth of the earth as you told me about how much you loved the summer weather at the beach, with the waves singing a melody of serenity that harmonises with your voice. ( audible smirk) You would spot frogs in the quiet parts of the endless swamps, and your face would glow with excitement.
( extra fondly, bittersweet) You also really love winter, don’t you? With all of the cozy jumpers and hot drinks that you won't be miserably drinking as you do in the summer. You really love the snow, but we don’t get a lot of snow in London, do we? It falls from the sky in a collective bunch but never settles. The Urban London landscape can never hold the delicate fractal of the snow on its rotten streets. You always told me about how much snow the ground could hold in the north where you are from. You speak so much about your town, the streets that you painted with memories, the house etched with your laughter and tears, and the shops we will never visit.
(Hopeless laughter) The roads that we will never walk together on, the park that we won’t hold hands and forget the world in, and the falling snow that I won't be able to dance around with you in. There are so many things we will never be able to do, and never be able to see. But that’s us, huh? Our rotten luck is always something we both knew would be the doom of us.
( smugly, “matter-of-factly”) However, Martin Blackwood, I’m the luckiest person alive to have been able to love you. I love you more than I will ever be able to comprehend.
[ THE RUFF OF THE BEDSHEET AS THE ARCHIVIST’S LEGS TWITCHES]
[A DISTANT SOUND OF WIND HOWLING CAN BE HEARD AND FLOORS CREAKING FROM SOMEWHERE IN THE DAISY TONNER SAFEHOUSE]
ARCHIVIST
(voice strains as they continue with difficulty, finding it hard to say the next lines) This world is cruel, isn’t it? How fucking cruel it is. (exhales - sounding like they dropped their tense shoulder) The thing is Martin, no matter how bitter life was, you were always sweet as honey, and you loved, and fought to be who you are today. You loved, and you will love again. Life is filled with uncertainty, and so is death. However, your love for the world that has been far too brutal to you is the only constant. You will love, over and over again. You will love. You will love the sunny day with the patches of white paint that is blended with the deep sapphire sky; you will love the stars that peek through the crowded London skylight, and you will point out Orion’s belt because that's the only constellation you can name. Gazing at those twinkling luminosity, you will fall in love again. You will love the fragile rose in the garden that you will build, you will love the cold rain descending from the grey heaven that wash over the blue skies, and you will love again and again, because Martin, that's who you are. Someone who loves again and again, even if the world doesn’t deserve it sometimes, and even if it doesn’t give the same love back. You love the tiny things that many overlook as inconsequential, because Martin Blackwood, that is who you are and who you always will be.
[SOUND OF TEARY ARCHIVIST CHOKING UP ON THEIR WORDS WHILE THEY HOLD THEIR BREATH]
ARCHIVIST
(Fondly) You will live, Martin; I will make sure of it. You will experience the beauty of the world. I will make sure of it. You will be able to look at dogs again, and smile from ear to ear, talking with that glint that you only get when you are talking about the things you adore, and that's the way you talk when you look me in the eye and tell me how much you love me. (softly) You love me. (a soft laugh) (gets bit louder) You love me. I um (stumbling on their words) I, I- I really do love you, Martin. I real-
[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN SLOWLY, ECHOING THROUGH THE ROOM]
[ AUDIBLE FOOTSTEPS CAN BE HEARD MAKING IT WAY TOWARDS THE DOOR]
[FOOTSTEPS]
MARTIN
(fake cheery tone) Hey, jo- are you… doing alright?
[MORE FOOTSTEPS AS MARTIN GETS CLOSER.]
ARCHIVIST
(surprised, panicked, quickly) Y-yes! Yes. ( they sniffle) Yes, I-I’m alright.
(with a slight humourless chuckle) I was just monologuing my thoughts. It seems a bit daft because… You know. Who is going to hear this? My successor? (they sigh heavily) I guess it’s just a… a, a coping mechanism. (with a tone of regret) I-it’s not that I don’t feel like I can talk to you, though! That’s not it at al-
[THE ARCHIVIST IS CUT OFF BY MARTIN]
MARTIN
( fondly, audible smile with a little bit of a laugh ) It’s okay, Jon! I understand.
(somewhat pointedly but not angry ) There are some things you just can’t talk about with another person and that’s alright! It’s not like I’m going to understand how you feel, anyway. You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting to talk when all of this is happening.
ARCHIVIST
( Sadly, distant, quiet ) Because of me, the world is like this . Looks and sounds like this . Feels like this. I’m sorry that I did this to you - to us.
[THE SOUND OF MOVEMENT ON THE FLOOR, FABRIC RUSTLE]
MARTIN
(ever so gentleness and pity in his voice) Oh Jon. It’s not your fault. It’s Eli- Jonah’s fault. It’s never your fault. You didn’t choose this. You - you would have never chosen this. You are Jonathan Sims, the person who threw themselves into the lonely for me, to save me . You wouldn’t have wanted this, and - and you could have never known. So please, don’t blame yourself.
ARCHIVIST
(With quick and shakiness in their voice) I know, uh, I um, God, I um.. I still... it's my, it's my fault. (heavy inhale) I’m sorry, Martin. I really am.
MARTIN
(Audible tender smile with a soft exhale sounding like a gentle laugh) You know, Jon, you apologise a lot, even for things that are beyond your control, e-even for things you weren’t blamed for, because, no matter if it was placed on you or not, you always the take blame onto yourself, because you think you deserve it. But you don’t. It is not your fault. It was never your fault, and will never be you fault
[CREAK ON THE BED]
[SOUNDING LIKE MARTIN SITTING NEXT TO THE ARCHIVIST]
[RUFF OF CLOTHES CAN BE HEARD FOLLOWING A CLASPING SOUND - MARTIN HOLD ARCHIVIST’S HAND]
MARTIN
(inhales) It’s okay, Jon. No matter how monstrous you think you are ( pause, deeper inhale) you are still Jon. There is no one else that I want you to be, and there is no one else I want to be here with. [exhales]
[SILENCE]
[ARCHIVIST DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO SAY]
[MARTIN SIGHS]
MARTIN
You - you, uh, tried so hard, Jon to (thinking for the right word) t-to stay Jon , and I know it may seem naive, but I know, (straining his voice) I know things will be okay, (a small pause) (gently) because you are here. I feel safe around you. In a world of discomfort and horror monsters in every corner, you still are here - here as my source of comfort, as my anchor
[ BRIEF SILENCE AS THE ARCHIVIST DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO REPLY]
MARTIN
Things will be okay; the world will be okay once again. We will be okay. We will leave this place and maybe go to the seaside. Together. Just you and me. We could go to Bournemouth, uh, you are from there, right? You could show me the place you grew up, maybe even your favourite shops and cafes. (slowly speeding up as he rambles) I always wondered what little Jon was like, and, and we, we could sit on the soft sand and you could tell me about everything and anything. (softly) I will listen. I will always listen
[BRIEF SILENCE]
MARTIN
(a long and soft inhalation) We will be okay (shy giggle) Of course we will be okay. You are Jonathan Sims, the bravest, the smartest, kindest person I know.
[SILENCE FROM THE ARCHIVIST]
[SHUFFLE OF CLOTHES]
MARTIN
R-right, uh hmm uh (clears throat) Get some rest, Jon; maybe, uh, get some sleep (hurried before the archivist could interrupt ) and I know, I know. (trying to imitate the archivist’s voice) “ I – (sigh) Can’t I don’t think I do anymore.” (back as martin) I - I just want you to rest - uh, not think, or dwell too much. I know you can’t help it. When you, well, know everything, I guess, you can’t help but think. I - I just don’t want you to take the weight of the world on your shoulder.
[BED CREAKING]
[RUFFLE OF FABRIC]
[SOUND OF MARTIN GETTING UP]
MARTIN
Well, I, uh, um, will let you be - g-get you, um, back to well, y-your thoughts. Or maybe lack thereof, because (soft giggle) hehe, I did tell you not to think too much.
[BRIEF SILENCE.]
[SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS]
[CREAK ON THE FLOOR AS MARTIN MOVES TOWARDS THE DOOR]
[SOUND OF THE DOORKNOB TURNING]
[SOUND OF DOOR OPENING SLOWLY]
ARCHIVIST
Um, Martin, I
MARTIN
[STOPPING ON HIS TRACKS]
Hmm, yes Jon?
ARCHIVIST
(stuttering their words, finding it hard to say the word) I, um, lov-, l-like to, ah um, thank you; I really mean it. (deep inhale) T-Thank you; for everything, for- I guess, for just being here. With me .
MARTIN
(with soft and gentleness his voice, a loving and caring tone) Get some rest, Jon. I-I will come back later to check on you.
[FOOTSTEPS LEAVING THE ROOM]
[DOOR CLOSING AS MARTIN LEAVES THE ROOM]
[SILENCE AS THE ARCHIVIST IS LEFT BY THEMSELVES]
ARCHIVIST
(softly) I, uh, I (whispers, barely audible) love you. (softly talking) I really love you, and you love me. That’s all I need, and that’s all I want. (normal volume but subtle softness) I want to love you forever and be loved by you forever, but we don’t have forever. We barely have ‘the now’. Yet you seem so hopeful, so hopeful in me. (Straining) Me. Someone who is so far gone from the human I used to be, and even so, you still say I am the same Jon. I wish I could be like you. I use the word ‘if’ in my hopes, but you, my dear Martin, use the word ‘when’. I truly wish that I could be in your ‘when’ as it turns to reality. There is nothing I want more than to be alive with you. To love with you. See you under the sunny summer sky and fall in love with you again and again, watch you under the stars, and fall deeper in love with you, and look at you with your messy bed hair, and fall in love again and again and again, (pause) but I can’t. I feel as if there is no ‘other side’ for me beyond this world that I have created. No happy end. No neat conclusion to my existent. However, that’s me. Not you. You will have a happy end, but we will not have one. I’m too far gone, too lost in the tides to the point that I can barely see the surface above, only midnight of the water fills my eyes, an overload of everything and nothing all at once. Sometimes, in the blur of the water, I see your face, and tranquility washes over me. I see you, Martin. I see you.
[Pause]
(softly, in disbelief) You love me. You love me. You love me. (getting louder) You love me. You love me. Thank you Martin, for loving me and letting me love you. I will love you again and again and again and again. I will love you today, tomorrow, and even when I take my last breath on this forsaken earth. I am crowded by all the knowledge in the world, all the world’s fear, and even with this overcrowdedness, I feel so alone, as I’m the nothingness in the sea of all that can be thought and can exist. (soft giggle) My dear Martin, you hold me close to your chest, your heartbeat drumming against my head, and I become something, a person, not a monster, capable of love, and being loved. You made me a person, and I am glad I can even give a fraction of the love you provide me. The sky is glaring at us with its all-knowing malevolent leer, yet you are still smiling, giving me another one out of the millions of reasons to fall for you. I want to fall in love with you every single day, for all kinds of different reasons.
I want to fall in love with you in the spring, as the days are filled with rays of sunshine, penetrating the clouds of the winter’s greyness, as blossoming flowers that are illuminated with the tints of springs cover the roads. With the stress of the world erased for a split second, I want to fall in love with you again and again. I want to fall in love with you in the winter, as the rain decorates the window on the cold winter evening, the frigid air penetrating through the cracks on the windowsill as it dances around each inch of the room that will be painted with reminiscences of our life. The drowsiness captures your body, the lashes fluttering as you lay your head on my lap, I will fall in love with you. I will fall in love with you over and over again.
[ ARCHIVIST SIGHS AND THERE IS A PAUSE]
[ THE WIND HOWLING REMINDING THE ARCHIVIST THAT THEY ARE IN THE RUINED WORLD]
But...uh, um, there is no winter here; there is no spring. Only the constant windiness and storm, and maybe, perhaps, I may not be able to experience winter and spring again. I won’t experience it. (voice breaking, sounds if they are about to cry) I won’t experience loving you again and again when you come back from work, and you would pick me up and spin, feeling your affection seep into my blood as your hand touches my skin on my waist. You would hold me, so with such vehemence, so afraid of letting me go, as if doing such would mean I would disappear, dissolving quickly like sand slipping through your hand. I wouldn’t disappear when you let me go, I would know that you would know that, even so, you will be afraid of the possibility of that happening. So you hold longer. Longer each and every day. Some days, you would gently kiss my head and tell me how much you love me. Some days, you would stroke my hair, with the scent of my locks engulfing you like a warm blanket on a cold arctic day where the trail of breath forms around you when you exhale, allowing you to feel at home once again, and you will say how much you have missed me, even if we haven’t seen each other for like only 8 hours. You will tell me about your day, making sure not to miss a single detail I will listen attentively, laugh at your jokes, and provide you with the comfort and a hug you need when the day doesn't go the way you wanted. You will ask me about mine and I will tell you. I will tell you everything because I feel as if I have no reason to hide anything. We will love each other again and again. We will love that day, the day after that, and the one after that, and every single other day. (bitterly and sadly) However, I won’t experience this.
I won’t experience this though, and you won’t, maybe, not with me. However, that’s another life, another world, far beyond our own. This is our world. This is our life. A life that just keeps going, not looking behind at what it leaves behind and what has been lost.
Maybe it will be your life with someone else.
Perhaps, you will hold them as if they were to dissipate if you let go. Hold them like they will disappear if the tips of your finger weren’t in contact with their skin, if you didn’t hold them, they will never come back because you let me go, and I never came back into your arms. I guess (bitter giggle) , the ruined world that I have created is all we have now and is all the chance we get to fall in love again and again. We won’t be able to love each other in the summer, in the winter, nor the autumn, or the spring. That’s life. That is our life.
ARCHIVIST
(Sigh) Life is like that. It doesn’t care. It moves forward. Life goes on, no matter if you stumble or crash, no matter how heavy the rain falls, it never looks back at the wreckage it leaves behind. We build walls and defenses to protect ourselves from the desolation that may befall us. As I grow older, I came to terms with the fact that life is a blank canvas and we are painters who tint it with wonder, and Martin, you are one of the wonders that I coloured my grey world with. Now that, even for the briefest moment, you stained my world with hues that I never thought I would be able to see, I’m more than happy to let you go, let you survive, let you live a life, without me there to live it with you. Through the ups and the down, all we can do is hold tight unto ourselves in the hopes of safekeeping. I know you will fall in love again, again and again, with every little thing. I know that our ending is lost in another world and if we strained to retrieve it, we would only bruise ourselves. You were meant to be on this journey with me, but there isn’t a guarantee that I was meant to stay with you until the end, until your happy end, until your life dissolves from your body as your last breath greets the earth one last time, waving its goodbye while it blends with the atmosphere.
(audible grin ) I love you, Martin Blackwood. I will never stop loving you. (quicker) Not even when I’m gone. Not when (voice breaking) I end. Not when all of this ends. I’ll never stop.
[KNOCKING SOUND]
MARTIN
(muffled through the door) Knock, Knock.
[SOUND OF THE DOOR OPENING]
Martin
(gently) Hey Jon. I just want to check on you, again. I was going to bring tea, but you know, (imitating the Archivist’s voice) comfort doesn’t exist in this world. (back to his normal voice) So I came back empty-handed. I felt bad for, you know, just leaving you, alone, here. (rambling) Even if you don’t tell me directly, and you don’t have to, you were going through something before I came in before, and um, I, ahh, I did want to give you some privacy, but another part of me was like “ Hey Martin, maybe don’t leave Jon alone with all the guilt and fear he can sense.” (slowing down a bit) So, I, um, came back to check up on you and ask. If you want to be alone, just say the word, and if you want me here, with you, I will stay.
ARCHIVIST
Uhh, I would very much e-enjoy your company Martin, if you want to stay. Only if you want to.
[SOUND OF DOOR SHUTTING - MOVEMENT IN THE FLOORBOARD]
MARTIN
Of course, I want to stay, Jon. I very much enjoy your company too. If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t have offered.
[MOVEMENT ON THE FLOORBOARD STOPS]
[SOUND OF MARTIN SETTING DOWN IN A CHAIR]
ARCHIVIST
Yes, I guess that’s true. I just, I want to make sure that you weren’t doing it because you felt as if it was your duty or because you felt like you had to.
MARTIN
No, oh god no Jon. I care a lot about you, and I want you to be okay, well, as much as you can be. Not because I feel like it is my duty, but because I care so much about you. I care so much, because I love you and you mean so so much to me, Jon. I wouldn’t be there, in this room, in this house, if you didn’t mean the world, but, you do. You mean so much to me, more than I can properly understand.
[PAUSE OF SILENCE]
ARCHIVIST
(softly) Martin, I, um, am glad you are here, with me, even in this ruined world.
MARTIN
I am glad you are here too, Jon
[PAUSE OF COMFORTABLE SILENCE]
ARCHIVIST
And um, Martin um, ah (stuttering their words, finding it hard to say the word) I, um, d-do you want to… join me (sound of archivists patting the bed), um to ahh, to cuddle?
MARTIN
(pleasantly surprised) S-sure!
[SOUND OF HURRIED FOOTSTEPS, RUSTLING FABRIC, AND MOVEMENT]
[THE SOUNDS SETTLE AND ALL THAT’S LEFT IS THE HOWLING OF THE WIND AND BREATHING FROM MARTIN AND THE ARCHIVIST]
ARCHIVIST
Thank you so much, Martin.
[THE HOWLING WIND IS BARELY AUDIBLE, ONLY THEIR INSYNC GENTLE BREATHING CAN BE HEARD]
[TAPE CLICKS OFF]