18 Days, 9 February, Monday
These dreams are becoming more frequent.
Last night, I had another dream of Tobias, except this time, the Prophet was there too. And he was alive and well. Also, we were in some kind of sitting room,
decorated exquisitely, with a
Victorian air to it. Darkness crept form every corner of the room, making it look as if the room were slowly being eaten away.
They were talking when I got there, and turned their attention to me as I approached them.
“Welcome back.” Tobias said, not looking at me.
I nodded, and joined them where they were sitting.
The Prophet looked at me seriously, “We were just discussing you, actually. Your timing is good.”
Tobias chuckled derisively, and the Prophet looked at him.
“You knew he was coming.” Tobias said, frowning.
“Of course I did. I was trying to be conversational.”
Tobias huffed out a sigh, looking away.
“Aerian Summer Guildenstern. Casmaran. Aerie. Whatever name you choose. Are you ready to die?”
I thought about that, and answered plainly. “No. I need more time. I’ll be ready soon. You just have to be patient.”
The Prophet nodded, smiling gently.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s comforting to hear that. He deserved that love.”
“He ‘deserves’ it.” I corrected, knowing he was talking about Noah. “And he’ll get it from me forever.”
“I know that.”
Tobias stood up, and strode across the room; there was a door with no knob there. “It is not fair.”
“Of course it’s not fair.” The Prophet said softly, “That’s the way it’s written.”
Tobias choked out a sob, slamming his hands against the door. “It is not fair
!!”
He sunk to the ground, pounding on the door twice more.
“You could-” I leaned forward, catching the Prophet’s eye. “You could just rewrite things to work out, couldn’t you?”
“No. I can’t.”
I bit my lip, glancing over to Tobias, who had dissolved into a shaking heap near the door. As quickly as I could, I rushed over to him, and knelt down beside him. I grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him into a hug. He really felt like Noah. Weird.
This time, he didn’t resist me, and clung to me tightly, crying into my shoulder.
“It is n-not f-fair!” he stuttered.
“I know.” I said softly, stroking his hair, “But it’s what we’ve got. It’s something. It’s something.”
The Prophet smiled, and then I woke up.
School today was also kind of weird. Those guys, I guess I can just call them The Bullies, seeing as I don’t know all their names.
They were especially… fierce-looking today. I guess that’s the best way to describe them; they spent most of French just glowering at us. Julia glowered right back, and stood between
us and them
at the break. Ariel, of course, stood with her, but seemed unaware of Julia’s protective stance.
“Make sure you guys don’t split up, okay?” Julia crept up behind us in Art, looking incredibly serious. She was lurking behind our chairs, and kept watching for the teacher.
“Why, what’s happening?” I asked, half-expecting the answer.
“I heard them talking just a few minutes ago. You know, the guys that are always glaring at you. They were saying something about ‘getting you alone’, and how that’s the only way it’ll go down right. And they used that F word a lot.”
I didn’t have to ask which one.
Julia grabbed my hand, “So be careful.” She touched Noah’s shoulder, “Both of you. Protect each other.”
We both nodded, and then Julia left. Presumably, she’d snuck out of class to come tell us.
I’m so grateful to have a friend like her.
Although… we couldn’t heed her warning.
Noah got called to the office at the break between the two periods of Art, and I made to go with him, but the teacher held me back.
“Guildenstern! Where are you going?”
Noah and I stopped at the door, looking round as the teacher approached. “
Er
…” I began, “Just to the office.”
“You weren’t called, and you’re already way behind. Talon’s a big boy, and doesn’t need an escort.”
“But I-!”
“Sit!”
So I sat, and tried to catch Noah’s eye, as a way of apology. He was gone before I could even look at him though. I guess if he hurries, he’ll be back sooner.
I sat there, tapping my foot on the ground in worried impatience for exactly nine minutes, and then stood up, striding over to the teacher’s desk and requesting a hall pass.
Somehow, I got one, maybe because she started regretting her earlier judgment.
I hurried down the hallways, following the familiar route to the office. As I stepped inside, the secretary looked up, smiling.
“How can I help you, Guildenstern?”
“I’m looking for Noah, has he been here yet?”
“No, actually, I have a letter here from his sister. Would you mind giving it to him?”
“Sure.” I replied hastily, taking the letter.
“Thanks a lot!” she called, as I departed.
What happened, where is he? I ran down the hallway, ignoring the faint call of ‘don’t run!
’.
My… emotion intuition pulled me to the right, towards the boy’s bathroom next to the gym. I passed it on my way down to the office; it was odd that it didn’t tweak out before.
Faulty emotion intuition.
As I opened the door, I knew immediately he was in there. The second door proved it.
Noah was standing at the sink, staring into the mirror. As I walked closer, I noticed several small details.
Firstly, his hair was incredibly messed up, with flyaway strands in every direction. Secondly, he was shaking, and trying to steady himself on the counter. Thirdly, there was a huge crack in the mirror that wasn’t there before, with a little bead of blood in the centre of it.
Finally, there were buttons all over the floor. I noticed these when I stepped on one and it grated against the tiles.
Noah didn’t move, still staring at his broken reflection.
“Noah…” I gently touched his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. He gasped, and pulled his shirt closed, turning his back to me.
“What
happened…?
Are you okay?”
“Nothing… it’s nothing, Aerie. Really. Please don’t worry.” He still wouldn’t turn around.
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not! I don’t…” he sniffed, and covered his face with his hands. “I’m not a liar. I’m not a sinner. I’m not a monster, a freak, a mistake!” His voice became more hysterical, “A queer, a failure, a reject, a faggot!
“Noah!” I grabbed him more firmly, “Tell me what happened!”
“I couldn’t stop them.” Slowly, he turned around, still holding his shirt closed. All the buttons except one were missing, and it looked like there were a few marker lines on his sleeves. His face was downcast, and he covered it with his hand.
“What did they-?” I grasped both sides of his wrecked shirt and pulled it open, as he reluctantly released it.
I was lost for words when I saw.
The Bullies had
labelled
him. All those words he had just y
elled were written on his torso
in thick black permanent marker. They layered over his scars and bruis
es, a brand new kind of wound. Th
e smell of the ink still hovered in the air, stinging my nose with its caustic scent.
“Noah…” I could feel my voice sticking in my throat. “Look at me. Please.”
“I won’t. Just… just let me clean up, okay?” Noah
swivelled
around again, tugging his shirt closed. “I don’t want you to see.”
“I’ll help you.”
“But…” his shoulders shook, as he suppressed a sob. I took that opportunity to dart around him, and take his hands. He looked up in surprise, and then I saw what he was hiding.
Across his face was written, in thick dark ink,
I am a dirty faggot.
Again, any words I had stopped and died in my throat.
Noah held my gaze, his eyes burning bright behind the searing blackness. One single tear fell from his right eye, streaking past the D and the F. Blood ran down his forehead and nose, mixing with the reeking ink.
“This is what I didn’t want you to see. It’s dirty.”
“I’ll help you.” I croaked, finding my voice again. I wouldn’t allow myself to be weak when he needed me.
Noah inhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes and freeing me from his piercing gaze. “I know.”
It took us nearly ten minutes to wash off all the ink from his face, not to mention the blood.
I gave him my sweater to put on, as we’d have to remove the rest of the ink at home. He looked odd in black. It didn’t suit him at all. Then we went back to class.
When we arrived in the classroom, the teacher followed us back to our desk, and looked him over.
“See me after class, both of you.”
Noah put his head on the table, with one arm wrapped around his stomach. I found his other hand underneath the table, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He returned it, but didn’t look up.
After class, we lingered back as the rest of the students fled the classroom.
“Now, boys. What happened?”
The teacher, Mrs. Barnes, sat on our table, looking critically at us.
Noah was silent, and didn’t move.
“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t have happened if you would have let me go with him.”
Mrs. Barnes looked taken aback at that, “Guildenstern-”
“I’m not blaming you. But you have to know, that we need to be together. It’s not safe for us to be apart.”
“Well, what happened? Talon-?” Mrs. Barnes touched his head, making him recoil violently. She jumped, and then regained herself. “Talon, what happened?”
“It’s not important.” Noah said quietly, “It’s already done.” Then he stood up, his face burning red, from the scrubbing or the emotion rolling through him. “But I am not going to forget this.”
I followed behind him quickly as he left, not daring to leave him alone for another second.
Noah was
silent all the way home too. D
idn’t
even try to talk to him. K
new that tone of voice, and also knew to just leave him alone until he spoke to me.
Something like, “When Noah’s upset, don’t speak until you’re spoken to.”
As we got back into the house, he immediately removed his winter gear and headed to the bathroom. I waited a few minutes, debating on whether or not to go after him.
A particularly strong surge of sadness crept towards me, pretty much billowing down the hallway like a noxious gas. I forced myself down the hallway, and into the bathroom.
Noah was standing in front of the mirror, just looking at the horrible words painted over his pale, scarred flesh. The image of his sharp shoulders and thin back peppered with bruises and scrapes sticks vividly in my mind. A few letters of the words crept around his back, an evil verbal embrace.
Those were the words that people associated him with.
Those terrible words.
There are much better words for him.
Maybe that’s a gift I could give him.
I’ll buy a dictionary, and find all the words that suit him. Then I’ll give it to him. Maybe that will lessen the memory of those other words.
It’s a plan.
I helped him clean them off, carefully scrubbing away the ink that seared into his flesh, taking extra care around the pre-existing wounds.
That same apologetic shame from the first time he was here started up as I worked around his collarbone and shoulders. His skin was raw and pink; it was our form of eraser, scrubbed pain.
“Thank you…” he murmured, as I got a towel to wrap around him. I hugged him from behind, placing a kiss on his cheek.
“People are wicked.” Noah mumbled, still staring into the mirror. “They make others ugly with their words. It’s difficult to see beauty for the description.”
“There are beautiful words too, you know.”
Finally, he tore his eyes away from the mirror, and turned around to look at me. His face was deadly serious. “Tell me one.”
“…
love
?”
Noah looked away, tasting the word on his lips, and then looked in the mirror, staring me in the eye.
“Like friend, is it? We rely on these words to define us.” I only realised just now that he was referring to us looking up the definition of ‘friend’ before.
“And we need them, right? You have to appreciate the words that aren’t perfect.”
“The perfect words.” Noah said it. That damn phrase that keeps invading my thoughts.
After that, the evening was quiet, and Terra was at work for most of it. She got home at around eleven-thirty, and almost immediately went up to bed after a brief greeting and snack.