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Elegia: Greek/Latin form of elegy. Also the name of a song by New Order.
el·e·gy
- a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.
It’s really been two months or so since he’s been away, and it’s quite obvious when Lars returns to the Big Donut; finding not Sadie, but the town’s former mayor. Obviously, he’s been informed by Steven’s letters back in space, yet he wouldn’t contain his surprise. Just Mr. Dewey working at the Big Donut seems to have been attracting a lot more costumers now.
Lars knows he can’t exactly eat, yet Steven insisted he had the pink donut named after him. The Pink Lars is so, well… pink, that even the dough itself isn’t the ordinary donut color. Steven actually orders six of the desserts – as it turns out, it’s become one of his favorites, right along with the chocolate donuts he regularly buys.
There’s quite a lot of people in town today, under the soft, warm blue sky. Steven and Lars soon settle in a bench at the boardwalk, the former already handing the latter one of the pink donuts.
“You think you can give it a try?” Steven wonders.
Lars is, admittedly, not hungry. He has eaten pieces and bits since getting back home, otherwise nothing much. Though a bite might not hurt.
“I guess so,” He accepts. Soon enough, Steven already puts a donut in his mouth. He enjoys it.
Lars, on the other hand, stares at his. It’s possibly the pinkest thing he’s seen – besides Lion and… himself. The donut, however, doesn’t have the same pink tone. Its frosting is sparkling and appealing, but it’s closer to purple, filled with pink sprinkles over a dark pink dough. The difference between his own skin and the food probably goes unnoticed to others’ eyes at first; on the outside, they’re both pink.
Despite the name, Lars knows they’re not the same. The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.
(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)
“… Lars, are you okay?”
Realization hits him. Lars has really just been contemplating a donut and Steven is reasonably concerned. The pink teenager releases a sigh, to filter the deepness of nonsense filling his head.
“Yeah.” He barely holds up a smile when he returns the donut to the box between him and Steven. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t have the stomach right now… literally.” He lets out a forced laugh.
Steven doesn’t laugh or smile in return, whereas Lars avoids the kid’s big concerned eyes. The younger boy swallows.
“Lars, I…” Knowing what he’s going to say next, Lars doesn’t wait for him to finish.
“It’s okay, Steven. I’m…” He bites his own lip. “I’m glad to be here.”
He’s saying the truth, clearly. But…
… no, Lars doesn’t want to sound selfish and ungrateful. Not to Steven of all people. The half-human boy saved his life, and sure, nothing could be the same again. Lars can’t eat the same way as before; he can literally not function like a human being anymore… but he’s glad he’s gotten this second chance. To be there for the people he loves. To be himself.
(But pink, pink, pink.)
Home has changed. He has changed.
Even so, everyone is fine with him becoming pink. Including his parents. They’re definitely shaken at what happened to Lars, and they were brought to relieved and terrified tears upon finding their son again. Yet almost a few weeks later, it’s almost as though he… hasn’t been to space, even though things are different now. If that makes sense.
Sadie is a lot more open and confident now. She sings with all her might, encapsulating the horror films she’s binged into her music. The Cool Kids are themselves, continuing to live as regular teenagers and discovering new interests, whilst giving life to their instruments. Lars cooks and bakes, and he laughs along with his friends. He introduces the Off Colors to the good things of life on Earth. Steven helps with that, as well as his own gem family. The Rutile Twins, Fluorite, Padparadscha and Rhodonite are having the time of their lives, free, loved, joyful. But most importantly, everyone embraces Lars. Everyone accepts who he is.
Everything is good.
(And Lars can’t accept it.)
Lars realizes he’s afraid of the dark.
The darkness was once a place of comfort for him. No one could really see him there. It was endless, omnipresent. Lars often found himself there.
Yet even with the skyscrapers revealing the night sky, today the boy can’t fathom his bedroom without the reassuring light of his lamp, or any background music at all.
(Holes might catch him. Silently, holes might swallow him again, before Lars can scream for help.)
Lars doesn’t need to sleep, but he knows he can. His eyes almost drift off, almost give in and rest. Yet right now his thoughts are loud and clear. His heart may not beat fast, yet his brain works like a machine nonstop.
His ears are filled with the somber music from his headphones. The lyrics, tragic but hopeful.
Lars thinks.
He thinks of Sadie’s hand against his. Her smile brightening when he’s in the same room. He feels her pressing her head against his shoulder, soft blond hair light to his face. Her macabre voice as Sadie Killer, her make-up, the lights and lasers behind her. Beautiful in every way.
He remembers Steven’s bouncy retellings, his patience, his kindness. Lars remembers the kid’s deep honesty, his comfortable presence. Lars feels their hugs, especially as he’s the one who hugs first nowadays.
Jenny, Buck and Sour Cream are their own souls as he’d always known. They’re fun to be around. They’re smart, funny, and supportive. Genuinely the best friends he could ever have.
He talks to his parents more. They’re more involved. They bake together at the kitchen often, his mother teaching desserts that aren’t in his recipe notebook. She helps him with the following potlucks that the Cool Kids plan. They hug, they say “I love you” to one another. They call him Lars.
The Off Colors look up to him. He’s their captain. They love his home, they excitedly watch the sun setting every single day; they have fun in the rain, when the sky doesn’t crack with lightnings. They trust his guidance, and they will follow him until the very end.
They… love him.
(Why?)
Lars is himself now. He’s open, he’s happy, he’s better.
(Why? Why?)
(Pink. Of course.)
(They love pink. They love the Pink Lars.)
He finds the stars above him. They’re suddenly so small in contrast to outer space.
He doesn’t sleep.
Pictures.
His home is filled with pictures. Many, many faces. So familiar, yet so unknown.
Lars sees him. Not the Pink Lars. Him.
Young, young Lars. Orange-skinned. Dark hair. Brown eyes.
A rare smile of such a young boy. A short-tempered kid excluded from his classmates. One that began pushing away the few people who cared. A boy that screamed and locked himself in his room far too often.
Briefly, Lars sees his own reflection on the glass.
Pink skin. Bright pink hair. His right eye, a saturated color, cut by a dark scar.
Gone.
The boy is gone.
(Why does Lars miss him?)
Something that represents him.
Ube. Purple, creamy, tasty. A childhood memory. The pride in a child’s face, dirtied with speckles of purple.
The Pink Lars. Pink, round, soft, alive; sprinkles as a special touch.
Both so full of life.
Both, true to their essence.
They’re them.
Lars is himself.
(Is he?)
(Is he?)
(Is he?)
Sadie asks him if he’s okay.
They’re watching a horror film together. Lars can barely pay it any mind.
She takes his hand and kisses every pink finger of his. Her eyes, worried.
Lars smiles sadly.
“Yeah, of course. I’m even better when I’m with you.”
(Sadie looks far from convinced. She knows Lars. She knows he’s always struggled with openness and vulnerability.)
The blond girl says nothing, instead snuggling closer against him, his arm pulling her deeper into his chest. Lars feels relaxed. He enjoys staying like this. He listens to her heartbeats. Her warmth enters his pink veins, butterflies shyly filling his stomach.
(For a moment, he feels like he’s never become pink.)
You brought me back to life! Just… let me be somebody who deserved it.
Somebody who deserved it.
(Did the orange-skinned boy not deserve it, then?)
(He was just a boy. Sure, a kid who made a lot of mistakes. Too many. Who let outside opinions get the best of him. But he could’ve grown, too. Maybe, if he were given a chance other than the inevitable.)
(Did he not deserve a chance, too?)
Can't you see that I exist?
And I don't need an exorcist to let me out
Look at me and I'll appear
Why can't you see that I'm right here, that I’m right here?
Why can't you see me?!
Why can't you see me?!
I think I might be
A g-g-g-ghost.
(I'm calling you from the other side.)
Today, he’s alone at the beach.
Usually, Lars joins the Off Colors, and sometimes the Cool Kids come along as well. Now, he’s hiding his hands inside his pockets, lonely steps on the sand. The sunset is the same explosion of colors as every other sunny day.
It’s blue, pink, orange and yellow. The sun reflects on the water, which hits the sand softly.
Its pink is livelier than his own.
The orange is there, too.
They’re here and alive.
Lars stays and watches. Alone.
It’s all so distant. So far away.
Maybe they know the truth. Maybe they’re keeping their distance.
Lars doesn’t try to reach them. It’s probably for the best.
Like that, he’s not expecting to be startled by a big creature staring at him.
Lars almost falls back on the sand, only to realize it’s safe.
Lion.
The only other creature that is as pink as him. Same hair (or mane). Eyes that are not scarred but are deeper than other eyes he’s seen. As if the feline has seen years and years of experience, without sharing words about it.
“Hey, buddy,” Lars greets him, voice quiet.
As usual, the big cat says nothing. Still, he gazes at the pink space pirate and understands. Lion snuggles his face against Lars’, who sighs and hugs him back, arms tight around his neck.
Lion practically has no heartbeat, unlike Sadie, or Steven or anyone else. His deep breaths are the only remaining of life he has.
The distant seagulls sing somewhere. But somehow, all Lars listens to is Lion.
His eyes blur.
The town is so distant.
… Literally.
Lars casually figured out that he can walk on water like Jesus now. That’s something. He told Steven and the boy was enthusiastic about it, of course. And well, it is cool. He can see the fish swimming down him, and he gets to touch the sun that reflects on the water. Otherwise, he can’t go for swims anymore, while everyone else can.
He’s fine.
There’s no sun or powerful colors this time. The sky is clouded, foggy, yet the ocean doesn’t react too much. The water is usually not furious, anyway.
It might rain soon.
Lars can actually sit on water, too. So, he hugs his own knees and thinks. Stays.
…
Someone is coming.
“Lars?”
Looking up, he finds Steven riding on Lion, with a puzzled look.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey, man,” Lars gives him a finger gun. “I’m just chilling here. Got to use my Jesus privileges now, am I right?”
Steven doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look remotely reassured.
(He understands. He wouldn’t find it funny, either.)
Isolated dripples begin surrounding them.
“Come on, let’s go to my house,” Steven offers. “It might be dangerous staying here.”
Lars hums, noticing the fish have all gone away. He stands.
“Okay.”
In the way, Lars tries to throw in a joke or two about the whales he found near him earlier. Steven still won’t laugh or find it endearing. And Lion simply listens.
When they enter the beach house, the rain starts coming down. The ocean practically disappears in the fog now.
(He almost wishes he stayed.)
The falling water outside is the only sound you could hear, besides the questions in the kid’s puppy eyes. Instead of answering them, though, Lars has an idea.
“Hey, what do you say I bake those space cookies you like so much?” The older teen offers, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You have the ingredients, right?”
“I think so, but…”
“Great! You can help me if you want.”
He ignores Steven’s frown and heads to the kitchen, already knowing where the ingredients are thanks to memory. Lion lies somewhere near, attentive. Though unlike other times the three of them have shared the kitchen, the big cat might not want to attack the ingredients today. Lion is as lazy as the rain day.
The baking session is… surprisingly quiet. Lars is the one that does the talking this time, trying to cheer the kid up. Steven doesn’t seem fazed. He just follows the steps. Lars’ smile will falter little by little, yet he keeps going. Maybe that will change by the frosting, Lars hopes. The kid loves frosting the cookies, more than he does.
But then, Steven is just… there. Staring at the star-shaped fellas without any enthusiasm. Staring concernedly at them, as if something is wrong with them, even though they’re perfectly fine.
“Hey, Steve,” Lars lowers his voice and puts a hand on his back. “What’s wrong?”
(He knows what it is. And Steven knows that he knows.)
For the first time, Steven looks away and hugs his own arm.
“I… I think I should be asking you that.”
(Lars shouldn’t be shocked. He isn’t.)
“I… I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked how you’ve been lately,” Steven admits. “I was so excited to have you back home, and have everyone see you again, that I thought you’d be fine.” He sighs and adds quieter, rather bitterly at himself. “But I’ve never been good at asking the right questions.”
Lars contains the harsh breath that tries to escape, and he gently pats his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy. You’ve got nothing to worry about me.”
Steven looks back with something akin to disbelief.
“Lars—”
“I mean it, I’m okay.”
“But you’re—”
“Kid, I swear, I’m fine.”
“I don’t want to force you—”
“You’re not forcing me, Steven,” Lars reassures him. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”
“You’re—” Steven observes dumbly and groans. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”
(It’s the same look from the pictures. From the gone, lost boy.)
(Revolted. Pushed aside.)
(Hurt.)
“T-There’s nothing to talk about!” Lars defends.
“I’m not stupid!”
“I never said you were!”
“Then why are you treating me like I am?!”
“Steven, it’s fine! I’m fine-!”
“NO!” Lars steps away. “STOP LYING TO ME!”
Whatever words were about to be said, they disappear at the sudden voice raise. At the angry – no, frustrated, tearful eyes. The clenched fists.
(Why does Steven look so much like him?)
Steven covers his own mouth, scared of his outburst. He recomposes himself or at least tries to.
“I… I thought we could count on each other. I thought—” He sniffs. “I thought, after we were stuck together, after everything we’ve been through, w-we could… be there for one another. You were there for me, you’re always there for me.” He pauses, his eyes more and more painful to look at. “But now you’re… you’re suffering, and you want to, what, you want to hide it from us? From me?”
Lars’ heart drops. “No- No, no, Steven, I’m- I’m fine—” He almost approaches again, only to get yelled at.
“Stop! I don’t need to be coddled! And you don’t need to hurt yourself for me! For anyone! Y-You of all people told me that!”
After that, Lars has become completely silent. There’s nothing around them, nothing but the rain falling outside, the shaky breaths coming from Steven, and Lion’s observation. The cookies are abandoned in the counter.
(And somewhere, somewhere far, a boy is screaming from his room, locked away.)
(Crying.)
“Lars…” Steven’s anger has dissipated again. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up. I know things won’t be the same again, and I know you want them to be. I’ve noticed.” He hugs himself, guilt filling his avoidant gaze. “Believe me, if I could go back in time, I would’ve never let you go in that ship. I would’ve never let you…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, clutching his own shirt. “I wish I could fix everything. But I can’t. And I’m really, really sorry.”
Lars would have opened his mouth to reassure him. He would have pulled him in a hug and tell him again and again that it wasn’t his fault. But Steven seems to catch onto that thought, because he then says:
“Even if I didn’t mean to… and even if I saved you in the end, I… I still did this to you.” He pauses. For once, he takes in a deep breath. “So, I promise you, I’ll do what I can to make up for it. I… I don’t know much about my powers.” He begins taking a step forward. “I don’t know how to feel about them most of the time, and I’m still trying to understand how Lion’s work, too, but…”
Steven looks up at him, eyes sparkling like the starry sky Lars sees every night.
“We… we can figure out. Together.” He looks away again, adding, “If you want.”
Lars locks the gaze with him, and before he registers it, a laugh escapes him.
“Yeah.” He swallows a sob. “Y-Yeah… I’d- I’d like that.”
For the first time, Steven smiles yet he immediately bumps into the other’s waist, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
“I’m so sorry…” The kid repeats. Once Lars returns the hug, he freezes when he catches Steven’s following words.
“… You never deserved to die.”
It’s nothing more than a whisper, only for him to hear.
And yet it feels like a complete punch. The good kind of punch.
Lars loses it.
They cry as hard as the rain. So much that Lion eventually joins the hug, offering his support.
Later, they create the cookies together with more delight and trust. They’re more… alive than all the others they’ve baked until now.
Tonight, Lars gazes at the stars with tranquility.
(He lets the boy free.)