Chapter Text
‘I wish I could see you again.’
This thought, those few words, like fleeting memories harking back to a time long ago, stung me. No voice, but it boomed down on me with poignance. Often it would chime to remind me of a time, a man, whom I swore never to forget.
“You’re…” How his words fumbled to the lovely bouquet of white chrysanthemums, “You’re too kind, Kronii. You shouldn’t have.”
True. It was unlike me to be this sentimental, but when the heart yearned to sing, words alone would not suffice.
“It’s… I’m touched. I don’t deserve it, especially from a goddess like you.” His voice, husky yet melodic, fought hard to keep his composure.
Amongst that starry night twinkled his sky blue eyes that gazed deeper into me with that youthful fascination of his. It was a wondrous night, standing by that park’s fountain under that gentle breeze. Almost a picturesque scene, had it not been for his crow’s feet and those strands of silver within his lush hair. Such a somber reminder of our fates...
“Please. You taught me so much over the years about cherishing life, from a mortal to someone such as I. A gift is in order to express my gratitude.”
Hisfinger swept away the beading tear by the side of his eye before clasping me by my shoulders. “You’ve grown so much.”
“Please. I’m still the same ol’ unhappy me, groaning all the time about having too much time in my hands. A bouquet of flowers is the least I could do.”
A worn-out smile erupted on his face before accepting the heartfelt gift, “If only I had a silver ring for us then.”
I blushed hard, “Shush, you.”
He stepped forward before embracing me, “Twas’ a joke.”
Even with such a lighthearted mood, his heart was heavy. I felt it by his embrace.
Once in a blue moon he would hug me, being cautious of the distance between us. He feared about us being too comfortable within each other’s presence, but tonight casted away those formalities. Within this hug, clutching me close, tender and firm, his fingers sank into my back, as if he too was afraid. I knew how it felt. I, of all people, should know; Never would I want to let go too.
If only I had been more selfish.
If only I was a bit braver.
If only I had the courage to let my heart out.
If only, if only, if only…
What good would regret do for me?
‘I can’t face him.’
“Us? Together?” His voice was alarmed by my proposal. “You don’t mean…”
I nodded my head with downcast eyes, “Why not? I mean… I don’t see much of a problem.”
“Kronii…” That pained expression of his spelt everything, “We can’t. We had discussed this time and time again. You and I…”
He bit his tongue, soured by reality knocking.
“I know we have detested the idea of us getting married and settling down years back but we were young and didn’t know better.” Desperation tainted my voice, “We can work this out.”
“Kronii, we can’t. I don’t want my death…”
“Don’t you dare say it.” My fingers gripped by his suit vest, “I can talk to Fauna to grant you immortality or to Death to extend your time here for just a bit longer or…”
His gentle clasp on my shoulders with his pitiful eyes pierced my heart, “You have done that already, haven’t you?”
“I’m sure they’ll listen to my pleas again and reconsider their decision. Once their decision is turned over, we can start living our best lives together with neither judgment nor boundaries. We can finally be together, can’t we?”
Not a word was uttered out of him. His eyes looked at me with patience. How it haunted me.
“… Please.” My voice was reduced to a trembling mess, “They will understand… Won’t they?”
“Kronii.” His fingers curled against me, “You must let me go when the time comes.”
My teeth gritted as I shook my head, “No…”
He embraced me again with my head cradled against his chest. The soft pitter-patter of my tears beat in rhythm to his heart that thumped against me. “My death…” He clutched me tighter by the mention of it, “My death was meant to be, Kronii. Life and death are but one of the same coin.”
“Stop it…” My whispers tried to drown out my sobbing.
“Kronii… You must learn to let me go.”
My fingers clung onto him, with my hands shaking. His head rested on top of mine, wetting my hair with tears of his own.
“I wish not to burden you with my death, but alas, how our fates intertwined with this cruel joke...”
How much I wanted to rewrite the stars and redo the script from scratch. What would I sacrifice to keep him by my side forever? My immortality? My pride? My dignity? Who do I need to prostrate before? How much I hated that he had accepted it, and how much more I hated that I had to in due time.
Among the concrete pavement next to the flowerbeds of tulips and lilies, with the bouquet of white chrysanthemums glistening against the sparkling water fountain, with the thick leaves refracting that silver moonlight, I howled into the night. He bit the bullet as I wallowed in self-pity. He bit his tongue when I urged him to stay with me forever.
“I… I love you so much…” Those words were coughed out as my sobbing reduced me to a mess, “I… I can’t lose you… I can’t…”
He gritted his teeth as he tugged me tighter, “I… Kronii… I love you too.”
This fleeting moment from a time long before us felt so distant. So, so distant...
I miss him.
I miss holding his hands. The touch of his hands, rough with calluses by his palms from his work and blisters by his fingers from scribbling and penning down prescriptions and medical certificates to the common folk and royals alike, was a touch I missed too much. My fingers would interlock with his, albeit a bit too tight, as we headed to the grocer, the flower shop, a younger colleague of his, the chapel, everywhere. Even as the years went by, with his skin beginning to sag and wrinkle, my hands would find its way to his.
Little by little, his strength was sapped out of him by age, and yet his hands were always in mine.
Until the end.
Until the very end.
Until that bitter end.
Damn it all.
“Kronii.” His raspy voice called out to me for one last time, decades after that night.
I remembered how his hands felt on mine that night. Frail and bony, and yet his fingers shivered and shook it ways to mine. My hands warped around his lonesome hand like a blanket keeping him warm, feeling his effort to muster all his strength to hold mine.
By the bedside within his humble abode, next to a small bed shelf with a white chrysanthemum in a vase, against the bright morning backdrop blending with the dark nightly shade, his eyes fought hard to stay open and on me. His mouth, left ajar, tried to mutter my name one more time. It shivered with short, sharp gasps of air. I needed him to stop trying to say my name ; I needed him to stay with me for one more minute.
I was not ready.
Nothing would have prepared me for that grim day. Who could be prepared to see their dear friend being an empty husk of the great man they once knew? Who could ever be prepared to see this dear man they endeared so much be bedridden? It hurt so much everytime I took a look at him, let alone sat or knelt by his bedside, forcing a smile on my face. It hurt, but I had to. I could not forgive myself if his final days were spent with me mourning.
“Please…” I grimaced, “Please….”
His hand struggled to inch forward, fighting and flaring with one last ounce of life, until it rose up to my cheeks. Sweeping against my wet cheeks to swipe off a lonely tear, one last tear cascaded down his own cheek.
“Thank… You…”
His hand trembled. I caught it and kept it by my cheek.
“Kro…”
‘Please,’ My heart begged for him to finish, ‘Please. One more minute. One last moment with him. Don’t take him away from me. Please.’
“Kro…”
His chest fell and never rose back up again.
‘Say it.’
His eyes closed and never opened again.
‘Please.’
His hand dropped and all I felt was that fire within his heart snuffed out.
“No…”
All that he left me was his final farewell trickling down his cheek.
“No…”
His hand fell from my cheeks as mine clutched onto him, trying to shake him back awake. I barked for him to call me one last time. Never would I dare to recall myself pouring my sorrow out of my heart that black day. The pangs and knots in my heart would not let me...
I definitely took my time to mourn.
Mourning. Grieving. Paying respects to those that had passed us. Should someone like me…
I have lived through millenniums and eons, civilisations and eras. I would have, or at least should have, been numbed to the deaths of these mortals. Even with that, why only then did I…
Who am I trying to deceive here? I love him. I still do. I miss him so much. So, so much.
Heh. If he sees me like this, he would be scolding me again at how much he doesn’t want to see me like this. That’s why he stopped himself from being too close to me, or at least in the very beginning of it all.
… At least he died peacefully. I can take respite from that fact. He deserved a peaceful, dignified death. After burying him in St Pancras Old Church’s churchyard, I scoffed at life for how it ended at where we started.
I remembered how we first met at that same churchyard amongst the solemn tombs. Under a golden brown tree, with leaves crisp golden, sunset orange and brilliant red, was where he stood, paying prayers to his mother under that late afternoon glow. Brushing those leaves and dust off his mother’s tombstone, he gifted her a bouquet that we both were all too familiar with. It was picture perfect. All around that natural shade of dirty grey tombstones, forest green patches of grass, yellow late afternoon shine and a black-cladded man, stood out a blotch of white. They were beautiful with its dew glistening the glitter of the Sun.
A reason, rooted in my heart, fuelling me to explore and seek for the answer to an age-old question that stuck to me, was why I visited that churchyard.
What was death to an immortal deity such as the Warden of Time herself?
A preposterous question, or so I had thought to myself for the first few decades. What good would it do to me if I entertain it? Even so, after the first few decades, it waited for me to pay attention to it like a lonesome yet bright lamp post shining amongst that black empty street. After all the time passed by, there I stood under its radiance and began to see my life in a different light.
Death was the great divider between me and humanity itself ; I remain with the privilege of having a ‘forever’. I was the conceptualised personification of time itself, so I had to stay alive for the sake of humanity. True, relishing within the praises of men for my importance was delightful to bask in, but my heart kept on beating an empty rhythm. Hollow. It would beat not a bit slower or faster ; It was not the symbol of romanticism to me, for it was another organ altogether. It begs a question ever so similar to what death means to me.
Was I alive to begin with? Did I simply become to be for the sake of being?
I don’t even know why I’m alive in the first place.
Nature needs to be tended to with grace and patience, thus Fauna. Civilisations need to be etched into history, thus Mumei. The universe needs to expand indefinitely for all beyond us, thus Sana. Change must always be instigated, thus Baelz.
All living things must end, thus Death.
What about me? What was my role to begin with? Ensure that time keeps moving forward? Sure, it is utterly important, but seeing everyone thriving and being happy within their jobs, I wonder what I’m missing in my life.
Death is the great divider between me and humanity itself, but due to the existence of Death, humanity itself is empowered to strive towards the future for the sake of glorifying their existence. Seeing them pursue their own personal goals in spite of the existence of Gods, Devils and everything in between, it had me wondering what’s wonderful about living.
Maybe understanding the essence of humanity is my own way of understanding and finding myself. If I were to integrate myself into the lives of the men who worshipped and cherished me, I could understand myself more and more.
Why then did I hit up the churchyard instead of the pubs or festivals? I had enough of drunks, skeptics and the festivities. I needed some time alone.
There he stood. My chance to find myself.
The rustling of dried leaves alerted him. His reddened eyes, with his thin-framed silver spectacles flashing, glanced at me before resetting his composure. It was funny how, in spite of anything and everything, he always emphasised on being presentable.
“Afternoon. May I help you with something, madam?” His voice was hushed to not disturb the peace settled.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you from your grieving.” It was hardly a place to strike up a conversation, but it would not hurt.
“Ho ho, I am not grieving, madam. To grieve for my mother’s death is to disrespect her.” Even with tired eyes, a rosy flush came to his face as he paid a polite smile.
“I… Sorry, I don’t understand what you mean by that.” He was always a strange one.
“My apologies. You see, my mother died when I was a young man. Tuberculosis. A terrible disease, really. Even with that, she loved me dearly until her final day. It was due to how she had lived that inspired me to take control of my life and honour her memory by infusing her wishes into my life.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. What was her wish?”
“Her wish is a wish any parent would want for their children ; She wished for me to stay happy.”
“I’d assume your mother is a wonderful parent then, sir.”
He let out a hearty chuckle, albeit a shushed one, “She is. If only she could see me now…”
“I’m certain she’d be smiling in the clouds.”
No words were spoken, but instead a smile that shamed the Sun was his reply.
“If you’re not here to mourn or grieve, then why are you here?”
“Merely paying my respects, madam.”
That did not answer why his eyes were reddened.
“... Pardon me for asking this insensitive question, but are you happy as of now?” After a bit of pondering around and beating around the bush, I came up with a blunt question. How a mixed sort of amused confusion became written on his face: a queasy smile, his eyes squinting, his eyebrows furrowing. What was even more telltale than that was the silence that came with.
“... What about you, Madam? Are you?” It was comical, how I was shot back with the same question that stumped him which had my lips sealed.
I shook my head before shrugging my shoulders, “I don’t exactly know how to answer that.”
“... I guess I could not blame you. Exploitative child labour in our factories, rampant cholera and thyphoid endemics, inadequate housings for all, it is a bleak life we live in. Only silver linings we have are the fancy clothing of every other lady and tramp on the street bear, and the prices for coffee and tea dropping.”
“Such is life, huh?”
“Such as it is. Hopefully the next silver lining is me getting to know you more?”
It had me chuckling with him on how disproportionate everything was back then.
He nodded before checking his pocket watch, “I believe it’s time to return home, madam. A beautiful lady such as yourself doesn’t belong on the streets at night.”
I still remembered how cheeky he could be, “Too kind, good sir.”
I remembered how his pearly blue eyes were that day. Exhausted, burnt out, fatigued, whatever burden he was carrying on that day, he trudged forward as he welcomed it, as if his foresight allowed him to keep his sight straight into the future. As he shuffled past me, he kept eyes forward like an arrow without paying me another glance. That was until he stopped by the gates of the churchyard before the quiet streets.
“... I am not a happy person as of late.” His back faced me and he shook his hung head, “Although I would like to be, soon enough.”
Some leaves brushed against the hallowed grounds we stood by due to the gentle winds.
“Is there anything I could do to help you with that?”
He pondered for the moment before beaming a smile at me, “I wish you could help me rewind time. I lost a young patient of mine and I deserve a redo.” His smile became gentler, almost as if something much more sincere, “He didn’t deserve his fate, at least at such a young age.”
“How noble of you.”
He gave me a nod before his smile faded off. He began to walk awa-
“Why did your patient pass away, if I dare ask?”
He casted a glance over his shoulders before taking a deep breath and facing me in all of his earnesty, with all the warmth swept away from his face “... Starvation. Too frail to come by my clinic, so I paid a visit to his home.”
“His parents?”
“Too poor to even bring enough food to the table for everyone. His siblings were better off than him.”
I took a step forward, “Did you stay with him until the very end?”
A weak nod came about. Only that.
“Did he matter that much to you?” I took another.
“Madam,” He tried his best to deflect my question with a polite, but pained, smile, “May I ask why the questions?”
“Did he?” Closing up to him at arms' length, I stilled my voice.
“He…” He coughed out as if something got caught in his throat, “He did. All of my patients matter, madam.”
“Then…” Right before him, he witnessed the entire world around him shaded grayscale, where all life froze with their lush hues of colour stripped, “... Do you truly wish to rewind time and save him?”
The ethereal visages of clocks materialising by the palm of my hand had his bemusement reduced to a warranted silence. He glinted around, fascinated by the autumn leaves freezing midair, with his eyes darting around as I approached him. It was beyond him to understand everything on the spot, but I knew he was a shrewd person, “Be honoured to be in my presence, for I am Kronii, the Warden of Time. The opportunity of a lifetime has been presented to you. Will you take it?”
His eyes followed the long minute hand racing counter-clockwise followed by the short hour hand trailing behind. Tick-tock, tick-tock, the gears ticked away, waiting for his response. Time and tide waited for no man, as what the age-old adage went, and granted the privilege, anyone would have jumped for it. Most men do not want to be freed from time. This, I know. If men were granted the chance to control their time, who would know what they would do with boundless power. It was for that reason that none of them were a vessel to this responsibility.
All had taken up on my opportunity.
All except him.
His hands embraced mine and curled my fingers into my palms.
The autumn leaves that were frozen in time returned to its aimless, yet graceful, gliding.
“Madam.” I remembered him speaking to me in a solemn, almost sombre, tone, “I appreciate the offer, but I will have to turn down the offer.”
“You…” Stunned was an understatement, “Why? I thought you wanted to save him.”
“I do, but saving him may mean the end of another's life. Through my mother’s death did mine start.”
I was speechless to say the least.
“May I ask for your name, madam?”
“Kronii. Ouros Kronii.”
“... May I please have the honour to continue our conversation at my home?”
With that, our fateful companionship began. A few drinks toasted our newfound friendship and everything else became history. We embroiled ourselves with merry laughter and festivities fostering our friendship and, more importantly, we basked in each other’s presence. How symbiotic our friendship was, between a mere mortal and an immortal concept. From him did I learn of the mettle of humanity and the dignity one carries beyond their lives. From me did he bolster his belief of the fragility of human life and the honour of cherishing his limited time on this plane.
“Do you not fear your death?” It took me many years to ask that question. After our lovely night by the fountain, it took me much of my courage to even think about that question.
He downed another shot of lukewarm single malt whisky, a gift from royalty, before pouring mine “My death?”
“Yes. Surely, for someone like you who has come into contact with many deaths in your line of work, you would have considered your own mortality.”
His rosy smile, now coupled with a giddy flush on his pasty white face, cracked wide, “Had it not been for my mother’s death, I would have not become the man I am right now. Her death and the memory of her life became the catalysts for me to change.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me on many occasions.”
“You’ve prompted me to tell you on those occasions, mind you.”
“Shush, you. I hate it when you’re right.” A gentle jab on his arm had us laughing into the night. I remembered how, at this point in time, in spite of his age catching up to him, his personality was still as pristine. All the hallmarks of age were on him and he still retained his younger self, as if he was trapped in an older body. Seeing him with a bushy thick beard greying with some strands of silvery white, sagging cheeks, receding hairline, it panged in my heart.
… At least the kids in his clinic were always happy to have ‘Santa Claus’ treating them.
… Seeing him like that made me wince. I downed my shot before fixing my eyes on his dining table.
He paused before lifting my chin up from my head lowered, “Cheer up, Kronii.”
My hands caught his wrist. It did not clamp down on him. Instead, it shook a bit.
His other free hand joined in and clasped our hands together.
“What’s wrong, Kronii?”
“I’m sorry. I’m spoiling the mood, aren’t I?”
“Not at all. Please. I want to hear what’s been troubling you.”
It hurts to remember how gentle he was to me.
“I… I’ve been ruminating on our final farewell before your death and I’m unsettled as always. If only they would listen to my pleas and grant you immortality…”
“Kronii…” His free hand that clasped our hands together raised up to my head and patted me, trying to soothe my heart, “If you wish, we could stop our friendship here and the burden within your heart will lighten up for you.”
My face was singed with annoyance, “I would never! Not after all the years we went through together. As if I could forget someone like you, let alone leave you now.”
He smirked at me before his hand cradled the back of my head and tugged me to his chest, “Such is life, Kronii.”
My arms wrapped around him.
“It is too late for me to stop myself from being in your life. I could only cherish the time we have together before the ultimate end.” He clutched my head a tad bit tighter, “It’s… It’s selfish of me but please promise that you will never forget me.”
This love. This twisted, cruel love we shared together.
“I will never forget you.” My fingers sunk into him, “Never.”
That was the only time I saw him cry. His stoic facade was finally cracked. He never raised his voice and cursed at the wind. He never vented out his frustrations and took another gulp.
Quietly.
Silently.
Regretfully.
He sniffled, trying to stifle himself from the bawling session that came afterwards.
“I’ll be with you forever.”
Those words, branded into my mind and tattooed into my heart, were the only words that snapped the serenity by the churchyard where I paid my respects to him. Seeing him buried next to his mother lifted my spirits, for it was the least I could do for him. No one came to his funeral procession: no colleagues close enough to pay their due respects, no friends that wished him a final toast, not even a close sibling that could wish their brother farewell. All that visited his grave on that sunny day, where the ray of afternoon sunlight casted aside those greyish clouds and pierced through to glorify him one last time, was me and two white chrysanthemums that resided by his tombstone.
My fingers clutched on the necklace he gave me.
“I miss you so much. So, so much.”
Only by then did the answer to that age-old question internalised within me. By the time it did, I wished myself a flatline.
‘Kronii.’
I… His voice… Distorted, as if I could not decide whether to listen to him when he was a spry young man or a dignified elder.
‘Kronii… how much I wish to stay here with you.’
My heart died that day. I cannot remember how long I spent standing, kneeling, crying before his grave. That blackened sky, those desolated grounds, the grief when I walked away from his grave...
‘Kronii, remember me.’
I cannot remember him on his deathbed and how sickly he had become. I refuse to remember. I don’t want to. I refuse...
‘Kronii, let me go.’
I don’t want to remember how much he cried to the burden of a memory he will have.
‘I have no regrets.’
I have.
I truly do.
I regret never showering him enough love.
When was the last time I told him I loved him?
‘I have but one regret, Kronii.’
Please…
Please stop…
Please…
I can’t take it anymore…
It all returns to nothing.
---
2nd November, 2021, Original Timeline.
A jolt ran through her body, shocking her awake.
The spoon in her empty porcelain cup jittered and clinked within the hull as her eyes cracked open.
Outside her window were the pitter-patter raindrops and the grey clouds perched above everyone’s head. Only a chilly breeze from her ceiling fan and the soft humming of her air-conditioner greeted her. With the cooling breeze brushing against, all she could do was to clutch onto her blanket on her a bit tighter.
Hoisting herself up from her white cherrywood swaying desk, she swept off the trickle of slobber from the side of her mouth before swiping it off her journal and getting a good stretch.
“Damn it…” She groaned, “That dream again.”
‘11:49’ flashed to her from her phone, alongside the countless alarms she slept through.
“I should stop playing Minecraft at night. I totally should, but c’mon. I have all the time in the world for it.” She laughed to herself, “... Who am I laughing with again? *Sigh* What am I doing with my life?”
Heading to her restroom, a splash of water on her weary face perked her up. A look of herself by her mirror had her brimming with delight.
‘Why, hello handsome.’ She thought to herself as she tried another pose, a much more revealing one at that, ‘How is it that I’m still this sexy with such a shitty sleep schedule?’
She chuckled to herself before taking a second longer by the mirror. She shook her head and tried her best to shrug off what she had to reminisce about. It was yet another one of her recollections of memories from a time blissful and evergreen. How much she wanted to move on from it, let alone discard it altogether to grant her a peace of mind, but oh, how selfish she was.
‘I miss you.’ She confided within herself of that sentiment. His face appeared before in the mirror from their fateful encounter, ‘I miss you so much…’
The thought stopped itself in its tracks. She waited for his name to come back to her senses. It was right at her finger tips and by the tip of her tongue. She blamed her morning grogginess and gave herself a few more minutes to recall his name.
His name.
His name…
His name…?
Her eyes widened and saw fear struck within her.
“What… What was his name?” She shook her head, “No, no, no. What was his name, Kronii? You have to at least remember his name, right?”
His name never came to her.
She flung open her bathroom door naked and marched herself to her wardrobe, where his memento, her heart-shaped sapphire, the centrepiece to her ribbon on her attire, resided on a jewelry case. She flung open her shelves and sifted through her notebooks as old as civilization itself, speed-reading each and every line. She racked through each and every memory she spent with him, trying to trace back one single clue of his name.
Nothing.
Nothing came back.
“Are you fucking stupid, Kronii?” She began to berate herself out of frustration, “How? How could you forget him?”
Hot streaks of frustration began to stream down her cheeks as she spared no effort to try to recall his name.
Today was the 2nd of November, 2021, Tuesday, 11:53am. A rainy day nearing noon. No thunderstorms, but a light downpour, about to be heavy.
Today was the day where Kronii realised, much to her despair, that she was starting to forget him. The single most important person in the world, in all of her timelines, and she was beginning to forget him?
Today was the day where Kronii’s greatest fear, the darkest nightmare of her life, had begun to invade her peaceful reality. She dreaded. She prayed. She wished that this day would not come.
Let her rummage and dig up mementos, memorabilias and keepsakes. Let her rack and scramble her memories, sift and shift through each and every one of her recollections. Let her dive into the recesses of her mind and dig deep within her soul.
His name never came.
What is death to an immortal?
Here it was.