Work Text:
the child is eight years old
his clothes are stained with mud
he does not want to go home
you beckon:
follow
he obeys,
halting
and stum
bling
in the wake of your steady gait
between the shades of green at the edge of the forest, you observe:
a woman with raven hair falls before the boy
gathers him in her arms
kisses his head
his eyes fix on you
leaves burn and plummet to the earth
they lead you to him
“I knew you’d be here!”
follow
”But—”
Follow.
his smile flits away with the breeze
he complies
two angels come for him
one robed in wisping marble
the other in hulking shadow
fract
ured
overlappingdemands
for Information
burst from their mouths
the boy's jaw clenches
his chin sinks
he is indelicately bundled into the light
his eyes stay fixed on you
you find him again when the trees are barren
he sits atop a felled trunk, legs swaying in uncoordinated rhythm
“I don’t think you have a lot of friends,” he murmurs
alabaster peeks out from the spaces between his fingers
your head tips to the side
he shrinks away
“I brought you something.”
he sets your gift on the forest floor
the foliage embraces it tenderly
your fingers slither through stems of withered grass
and you pluck your naked twin from the dirt
“You don’t have to keep it.”
slowly
deliberately
you lift the left side of your jacket
and pocket the offering
your gaze stays fixed on him
and he beams.
feeling burrows under your skin
name? you ask, delicate
“Tim,” the child responds, bright
Tim.
Tim, giggling, springs to his feet
and sprints
deep
into
the
woods
You follow.