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“I realized I’ll have to miss him for longer than I knew him. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over that” They spoke into the night air, only other sound being the quiet crackling of the bonfire before them. The fire was not like many they’d sparked before, it was small, contained; it was built to warm, not to burn. The person sitting beside them seemed to consider it for a little while longer before responding,
“And that’s the worst part isn’t it? Not just grieving them but the time you’ll never get to have.” Their voice was more hushed than it had been in the minutes previous. If Ashril had been paying more attention, they would have been able to recognize how their words had seemingly struck a chord (no pun intended) with the musician. They pulled their knees up close to their chest, resting their chin on top of it.
“I just-” They drew in a shaky breath “I just thought we’d have more time. We made so many plans and I hadn’t even known him for that long but I guess a part of me had already imagined a life with him. Forever. And to lose him so unexpectedly after that it just… broke me, you know?”
“I know.” Mojave replied. Ash turned to face him properly, and could now register his glassy look, fire dancing in the reflection of his glazed-over eyes.
“You do?” They inquired, no accusation or surprise in their tone, but genuine curiosity. They’d missed so much time with each other.
“Yeah um,” he paused, “I uh… had a kid,” In the silence between their words, it wasn’t hard to notice the use of ‘had’. “Mirasol, died a while back. Thought I was gonna get to watch ‘em grow up, but… guess fate or whatever had other plans. I guess, the Avicane, really.”
“It changes you a lot, huh? Losing someone so important. I mean at this point I’m not even sure how you knew who I was. It feels like I’m so unrecognizable compared to the person I used to be. Like with every person I’ve lost a piece of the kid you used to know died with them.”
“I think you’ve got a point. It changes so many parts of you but…” He turned his head to look at them “I don’t think that kid is gone, least not all the way. Buried under years of loss ‘n hurt, sure, but not dead. You’ve changed, so have I. But I think those kids are still in us somewhere.”
“I’ve spent so long running from who I used to be that I don’t think I can recognize what’s me and what’s something I’ve developed just to protect myself. I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Silence stretched between these two old friends, years of pain and separation and a million terrible things filling the space, suffocating them. But then, like a ray of moonlight on an otherwise dark night, Mojave spoke,
“You used to sing.”
“What?”
“When it was just you and me, if I started playing or singing you’d hum along with me. Sometimes I’d get you to sing along, but most times you didn’t want to.”
“I wasn’t particularly good, you were always much better than me.”
“I didn’t care, I just liked sharing something I loved with you. Sometimes I’d catch you singing or humming to yourself while you did something, I don’t even know if you realized you were doing it. I always liked that about you”
“Think it’s something I picked up from my mom. I stopped singing after we got separated. I mean, not for lack of trying. Whenever I did it just… didn’t feel right? Haven’t had much time to sing in recent times.” They’d found a desert area to hang out in. They cut prickly pears out of cactuses and thought about years past where their clothes had been stained with the evidence of the fruit. Reminisced about the lemonade Ash’s mom used to make with it, how they’d come in his house late in the afternoon from a day of playing outside, exhausted and sunburnt and sand-covered and how that made the drink taste that much better.
“Well, there’s no time like the present?” the eagle proposed, pulling out their guitar and raising an eyebrow at their friend.
“No, no I-I couldn’t”
“Why not? Y’ain’t got nothing to lose. C’mon! it’s just me, and I’ve seen you do much more embarrassing things than this”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Well I can’t count the amount of times when you were still learning to fly and I watched you face-plant into the dunes, Tumbleweed. We were about twelve when we were playing tag and you ran straight into one of your mom’s cactus patches, when we were 15 you liked a girl and accidentally gave her what you thought were flowers but actually gave her a rash, also that time when you fell asleep outside and had a tan in the shape of-”
“Okay okay!” They cut him off with a shove to the shoulder and the two dissolved into laughter. Years apart dissipating like the smoke from the fire in front of them in the face of a kind of love that hadn’t and could never truly die out. They’d finally managed composing themselves when Mojave spoke
“You don’t have to, but I’d really like it if you did. Here, how ‘bout you pick out a song and then I’ll play it, and whenever you feel like jumping in you can go ahead.” Ash made a big show of seemingly weighing their options before letting out an over-dramatic sigh
“Fine, I guess. Uh, there was this one you used to sing a lot when we were teenagers that I really liked, The Sun’s somethin’ or other? Talks about like, spring and summer and-”
“The Sun’s Reprise, yeah! I still know that one.” They played the first bits of the song, Ash nodding in recognition as they started,
“Someone once told me that I was like spring, bright yellow flowers bloom while I sing” Their voice came out soft, but clear, a melody they’d heard as a child and had carried with them somewhere in their heart. The lyrics came out as memories began to flood back into both of the avian’s minds.
“Gave it some thought in my little bedroom. If it were true maybe then, I'd have you.” Clamboring into mesquite trees, making the kinds of plans for a treehouse that only children could come up with, the same lecture they’d get over and over again from Ash’s mom about wearing sunscreen that they never really listened to.
“If I'm like spring, then you are my summer. Brighter and warmer, the season of lovers” And Mojave tried to, but couldn’t really stop themselves from smiling as warmth blossomed in their chest from the sound of the roadrunner’s voice joining in.
“Cultured and seasoned, yeah, you're fully grown. While the seeds of my flowers have only been sown.” Years past when they sat back to front, preening each other’s wings and talking about things that really weren’t their business but they knew far too much about anyway. Jokes shared that really weren’t all that funny, but made the two of them cackle, doubling over with their laughter. Nights where Ashril swore they wouldn’t sneak out, no matter what Mo said, only to be climbing out of their window when the moon rose high in the sky because neither was ever really good at saying no to the other.
“Yellow-green grasses and tall budded trees. Bright bluish skies, the sun makes her reprise.” Panic at the sound of a crumbling island beneath them. Searches for the other coming up empty, grief striking them at the thought of losing someone they loved so much. Years apart, filled with more grief and more running and more pain, no matter how far they went never truly being able to get away from it.
“Oh, to be spring I need signs of renew, but I haven't changed and love, neither have you” Coming to this place, seeing each other again for the first time in gods know how long and no it’s not you it can’t be you, you were gone but no you’re not you’re right here and so am I and thank everything you’re still here. In an instant one less person they loved was dead. It wasn’t awkward, the conversation flowed just like it always did, settled right back into the rhythm of things, like they were never separated in the first place. No matter what changed and who they knew and who they loved and who they lost and who they hurt they were still just as they always were.
“If I'm like spring, then you are my summer. Brighter and warmer, the season of lovers. Cultured and seasoned, yeah, you're fully grown. While the seeds of my flowers have only been sown.” Worlds apart but going on journeys of figuring out how to love again, to find a home again, to be a part of a family again, to grieve again and again and again. To walk through the fire and come out once more hand in hand, side by side.
“It's not always sunny, you know what they say. With April showers come flowers in May” They let Ash lead on the closing lines of the song, letting their voice quiet to the background and listen to a sound that months ago, they never thought they’d hear again. They loved hearing her sing, loved her. There would always be much to do, would always be another problem to solve, a whole new world to build.
“It's warm in the sun, but it's bleak by nightfall. Maybe then, I am like spring after all.” But there would also be times like this. Times for the both of them to sit under the stars with the people they loved, to reminisce on years gone by and know they made it out, damaged and burned and broken and changed, but alive none the less. Together, with their family despite it all.
“I disagree” Mohave spoke, setting down their guitar and knocking their shoulder into his, “I think you have a very nice voice.” He hummed, resting his head on their shoulder before commenting,
“I dunno, I just like singing with you sometimes.”
“I like singing with you too.”
“Mo?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think I realized how much I missed you until I got you back.”
“... me neither.” Silence stretched across the dunes, over cacti and sand and mesquite trees. Just like it did a lifetime ago, over the same two people, as the roadrunner uttered words that used to come so easy, but recently had felt awkward,
“I still love you, even after all this time” and it was like letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, an omission that felt fine between two kids who’d known each other for years but they now knew to carry more weight in their adult years. But those words opened a door to something that was still there no matter what, let Mojave respond to them, like it was easy as breathing,
“Love you too, tumbleweed.” A name they hadn’t been called in years, given to them by her as a teasing remark about how often a much smaller Ashril used to trip on their own feet. Words they hadn’t told each other in years, but never stopped being true.
There were no more words to be said, no explanation of what it meant, no strings attached. It didn’t matter what kind of love it was, what kind of relationship they carried because the love was there, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what truly matters?
They sat there for a while holding each other close, there was nothing more too do. And as the stars shone overhead, they both thought to themselves that maybe the song was right,
They really hadn’t changed, after all.