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Ayan's gut has never failed him throughout his life. He has learned to trust it. Once it had prevented him from falling with his bike, another time it likely saved him from an encounter with a creep on his way home at night. So he was very much aware something was wrong.
The sunset paints over the vivid blue Friday sky. Akk isn't home, once again. Ayan has grown used to it. He knows the taller one needs some time for himself, tries to be accommodating, tries not to suffocate him. Pretends to believe Akk's smile when he tells him he was out with friends. But his gut tells him something is wrong at this very moment, so his mind naturally wanders to his lover.
Ayan considers it a given now, a simple fact of life, Akk taking up most of the space in his brain. Has he eaten, has he slept well, did he take an umbrella with him? Sometimes Ayan worries about being overprotective, but he can’t help it. It’s what prompts him to wear a hoodie and go out in search of his boyfriend. He stops a few steps from the door as he realises he has no idea where Akk even is. Ayan goes through a list of the places he knew Akk likes, ruling out anything crowded or noisy. The cliff.
Akk is at the cliff. Ayan runs.
When he makes it to the place he now knows like the palm of his hand, it’s empty. Relief and terror flood him at a pace that makes him nauseous. He doesn’t want to look down. Can’t. Tries to convince himself that Akk is just somewhere else. That perhaps he left before Ayan got here, and they’ll meet at home, eat dinner and go to bed early.
But Ayan knows. Deep down he does. It makes it harder to attempt to disprove his own gut.
Slow steps, trembling sweaty hands take him to the edge. The sight makes him almost throw up. A light breeze makes him feel colder than he ever has.
This particular cliff isn’t that high. No, the height is not the worst part about it. What makes it terrible are the rocks. Sharp, cruel stone, ready to tear apart flesh, ready to fulfil a wish for death.
And there. At the bottom, surrounded by flowers. Akk. His Akk.
Ayan throws up. His chest heaves, in a way Akk’s will never do again. He looks down again. He has to. If he was useless enough to not prevent this, the least he deserves is to look at his beloved.
Blood is pooling around Akk’s head and to Ayan’s eyes it is turning the whole world red. A river that will never stop, that will swallow all those guilty of this crime whole. And Ayan will be the first one.
Ayan tries to focus through his tears. Akk’s leg is bent at an awkward angle. God, it looks so wrong . If he pays enough attention, he can see small scratches on Akk’s hands. Hands that only days ago prepared his favourite meal. Hands that mapped his body at night, hands that gently woke him up from nightmares. Perhaps if he waits long enough, those hands might appear at his cheeks again to wake him up from this hell.
A funny thing about humans is they don’t want to die. They despise the idea of death. Humans will fight until their last breath to remain in this world, as much as they hate it. Even if their brain tries to kill them, the body instinctively claws at life. It’s a ferocious battle with no certain winner. Many think of Life and Death as mortal enemies. They are not. The real mortal enemies are instinct and illness. Akk’s hands are evidence enough of the battlefield. Even at his last moment, Akk had grabbed onto life with all he had, but it was too late, life had rejected him once and for all. Maybe his uncle had done the same.
Ayan laughs. Becomes hysteric. Pulls at his skin, his hair, the ground itself. His wails for someone, anyone , to tell him Akk is alive, remain unanswered. Screams for a God to give him his life, his light back. His voice echoes in the hills and returns to him almost like an accusation.
The sky is dark now, and Ayan knows. No one will find him here. No one will relieve him of what needs to be done. He cannot grieve here forever. Akk deserves more than just to lay at the bottom of a cliff, blood a stark contrast against his pale skin.
How long until those lips turn blue? How long until nature around him claims him as their own and takes him in? Ayan remembers the fairy tales he used to read. He imagines the trees weaving flowers into his lover’s hair. He imagines the creatures of the hills taking care of his precious body, laying him down tenderly, silently, careful not to wake him from his slumber. But they won’t.
Ayan makes a call.
— — — — — — —
The funeral is held on a sunny afternoon. Many view that as a mockery. A god cruelly laughing at them for taking away someone the mere mortals loved. Ayan doesn’t see it that way.
He sees his boyfriend’s smile in the sunlit sky. Hears his laugh in the breeze, his passionate talk in the cicadas. Ayan feels Akk’s warmth in the summer heat surrounding him. Almost like a hug. Akk is still here. His world is there, he is everywhere. He hasn’t left him. Ayan can’t believe he would.
Akk’s parents have not stopped crying. Of course they haven’t. No parent ever does after something like this. Ayan wants to talk to them, try to comfort them, but he has no idea how. He can’t even console himself long enough to speak. The ceremony starts. He sits down.
Most of the school has shown up. Akk’s friends are all together. They still doubt the reality of the situation, Ayan notices. Who can blame them? They didn’t see Akk with their own eyes and Ayan is thankful for that. Something like that is not a memory anyone wants to have. Ayan wants them to remember Akk as a human full of life, as a vibrant person among them, not as a cold body surrounded by red sorrow.
The ceremony ends, yet Ayan cannot pick himself up. His mother is there with him, she gives him time and a hug. Ayan is pretty sure he hasn’t stopped crying these past few days. He thought that, as movies said, his tears would have run out by now. The movies lied. Ayan is unworthy of dry eyes, of mellowed out grief, of emptiness that will settle in his bones. He needs his tears to remind him of his failure to keep the people he loved on this earth.
Akk’s seat remains empty. A unanimous, unspoken decision by everyone. There’s flowers left at his desk everyday. There’s a seat and a yearbook reserved for Akk at graduation. A spot among his friends in their photos for him. It feels as if everyone expects him to come back. To miraculously appear at the pictures, at his seat, and once again be the perfect they got to know.
Ayan visits the cliff. He lights candles, and lays out flowers and talks for hours into the nothingness of the world around him. That’s what the world is now.
Empty.