The Art of Forgiveness

Chapter 10

Blumiere hugged himself, sitting with his back to a tall, strong, sturdy tree. It almost reminded him of when he would secretly meet with Timpani so many years ago. Back then, he would wait for the sun to rise, then sneak out of his house, outside of the tribe's borders. Then, he would sit with his back to their special tree, waiting for her to arrive and join him.

The memory was bittersweet. Most of the time, he looked back on it fondly, but with happiness always comes sadness. Whenever he remembered waiting for her, he would remember that one time when she never arrived. He would remember the hours he spent all alone, just waiting to see her smiling face. He would remember the time that she never came back. 

What if she was the one waiting at now? What if she was in the Overthere, waiting and waiting for him to come?

He sniffled, muttering a quiet apology to her between soft sobs. He bowed his head in defeat, knowing that once again, they were separated by forces stronger than anything he could ever fight. It didn't matter how good or pure either of them were, because the world would always keep them so far apart. 

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut so he could see nothing but pure darkness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

His breaths were short and quick. They didn't feel full enough. He felt like he was suffocating, which in turn only made him breathe faster. He didn't know what to do, all he knew was he had to get away. Get away from that house, away from those people. He needed to get away from everyone who ever knew him. Away from himself and from the world. He just needed an escape. 

"Blumiere?" A familiar voice questioned.

Blumiere kept his eyes shut tightly and his head low. He shook his head and covered his ears, wanting to hide forever. He wanted to just vanish off the face of the earth. He didn't want anyone to see him. Not like this. He almost never allowed himself to break down in front of people. There was a sense of horror and embarrassment that came with showing this kind of emotion.

"You do realize I can see you, correct?" Dimentio asked. "You're not invisible."

Blumiere knew this well, but still kept his head low. He couldn't even bring himself to look Dimentio in the eyes and ask why he felt the need to come all the way out here after him. What, did he want to make fun of his former count? Did he want to point and laugh? To brag and boast about the fact that the people of Flipside were more scared of Blumiere than they were of him?

"I'm not going to judge you," Dimentio tiredly breathed, sitting next to the former count.

Blumiere's eyebrows furrowed slightly. He opened his eyes just enough to see the grassy ground beneath him. The blades were sharp and itchy. He could imagine himself easily cutting his fingers on them. He could almost feel the stinging sensation just thinking about it. He recalled times from his childhood when he would accidentally cut himself on grass blades while picking flowers.

"I'm sorry," Blumiere muttered, his voice shaky and muddy. It was far from his usually clear and steady tone.

Dimentio let out another breath, then rested his elbows on his knees, looking forward instead of at Blumiere.

"You say that a lot. What exactly are you sorry for?" Dimentio asked. "Are you sorry for assuming I only came here to laugh at you, are you sorry for trying to bring about the end of all worlds in the first place... or are you simply sorry for having emotions and allowing me to see you like this?"

It felt like a mix of all three, honestly. However, at the same time, none of those felt like the correct answer. Yes, they were all technically right and Blumiere was sorry for them all, but that wasn't why he was saying sorry.