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James looked out onto the lake, his eyes still and down turned, only looking but not really seeing.
I looked at him, the way his body slightly shuddered, not quite a tremble, but something relentlessly moving him anyways. I was afraid of talking, of breaking the silence we had built, so I kept my hand on his shoulder, hoping it would give him a slight comfort, a sliver of a feeling of safety, and just looked at him as he looked out to the lake.
“I’m sorry.” A bare whisper from my lips. I wasn’t even sure what I was sorry for, but it felt indispensable to say it anyways. His upper lip quivered slightly and then, slowly, as if in trance, his eyes moved to meet my gaze. I wasn’t sure what he would say, or even if he would say something at all.
James looked down to the sand between us, the distance, I felt, seemed impossible to close, seemed like miles, like less than a millimeter. After a long second of silence, he spoke.
“One fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish.” James’ voice was not more than a whisper, not more than the wind whistling around us. It was a carefully chosen quote, one that made me think for a long moment. Benvolio speaks to Romeo, now James spoke to me, about Richard. A quote about love, now about despair.
“That’s probably my line, if we do Romeo and Juliet for christmas.” I spoke and noticed a faint smile on his lips, but we both hadn’t the faintest vision of what Christmas would be like now.
But I felt I had understood what James wanted to convey, he didn’t entirely blame Richard.
My hand gently rested on his shoulder and I felt him lean towards me slightly, exhausted in every way. When I huddled closer, James carefully rested against me, his body comfortable, good, against mine.
“Should we go up to the Castle?” I inquired carefully, voice low and calm. It wasn’t particularly cold, but I still had some of the fake blood sticking relentlessly to my skin.
“There’s not more than a bed.” James replied, limp against my shoulder. I let my arm wrap around his back to pull him closer.
“I suppose none of us will sleep tonight.” Even if we’d have gone to bed then and there, I couldn’t have closed my eyes without seeing it. Richard, his hands firmly holding James’ head under the black water of the lake. And I doubt James could have either.
“Methought I heard a voice cry, ‘Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep.’” James quoted his own line from only a few hours ago. The word murder made me dizzy, drowning in thoughts of what could’ve happened. What probably would’ve happened if we didn’t stop Richard. That thought made me want to throw up.
Instead I leaned against James further, watching him, the way his eyes darted carefully, the way his chest moved with each breath.
James watched the sun rise slowly, the sky a deep blue, then tinted purple, lilac, pink. And I watched James. We both knew, this new morning was changed. The following days could never be like before. Normality had declared its leave, and we mourned as it waved goodbye.
With the sun rising, the future slowly crept up to us, with a haunting grin like Richards.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools, The way to dusty death.
The night would not stay for eternity. Its comfort would leave us far too soon.
Out, out, brief candle!