The Loving Silence

Chapter 10

In the midst of moving the boxes, his design must've fallen to the floor and broken. He imagined they hadn't wanted him to find out, to get hurt, or perhaps they had thought they had done him a favour by disposing of the broken pieces for him. They were kind. He knew that. It must've been an accident. But it still hurt.

Rue cared for all his designs but usually had no trouble parting with them when sold. But this one was different. It was special.

A few weeks ago, he had woken up at 3.33 in the morning, which, at the time, he had thought was odd. But he hadn't had time to think about that as he had been overcome with the desire, no the need to create. He hadn't even bothered getting dressed; there wasn't any time. He had run downstairs, almost tripping over his feet in the process, fetched the clay and started making it. The design was clear in his mind, clearer than he had ever experienced before. Creating it wasn't a choice but a compelling need. It was as if he wouldn't be able to breathe, to go on living unless he created it then and there. As if in a trance, he sat there for hours and hours, and even now, he didn't remember much of it. He just remembered the need to create and the feeling that this piece was important. The most important creation he had made. When it was finished, he had walked back upstairs, collapsed on the bed, and the second his body hit the mattress, he had fallen asleep.

When he saw the large pot the next day, he remembered everything. The energy coming from it was different from all of his other creations. He couldn't decide what to do with it, how to finish it or what the next step was because he needed it to be perfect. It was special.

Rue sighed, suddenly feeling very lonely. He wished he had kept it somewhere else. That he had protected it better, he wished he at least had the broken pieces. Maybe he could've done something, put it back together or mended it somehow. Perhaps it was impossible, but he would've liked to try.

Suddenly, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep, but he knew neglecting his health would hardly make him feel better. He needed to eat something and rehydrate, maybe take a shower, too. Then he could go back to wallowing in bed with good conscience.

Rue remembered Rick saying he would leave some food for him, so he went to the refrigerator to check. He smiled happily when he opened the fridge and saw the full containers full of deliciousness waiting for him inside. Rick had been true to his word, as always. Seeing Rick care for him like that made him happy and sad. It was bittersweet. He wanted to be cared for, but he didn't feel right. He felt Rick had more important people in his life now and that Rue shouldn't be taking up so much of his time anymore.

Rue unpacked some of the food, put it in a bowl, and ate it cold. He didn't mind.

According to Rue, that was the measure of good food. Only excellent food can be eaten cold and taste just as good as when it has just been prepared, and Rick's food? It was the best. He enjoyed every bite with a sorrowful smile. Deserving or not, right or wrong, his friend loved him. He considered him part of his family. And Rue loved him for that.

***

After another long, lukewarm shower, he put on the most comfortable clothes he could find. As content as he could feel with the state of his mind, he wrapped himself up in his warm duvet and let the Sandman take over the reins.

It was a peaceful, dreamless sleep until a shrill tune resounded throughout the apartment. Rue was deeply asleep, but the tune was loud enough that a dream started to build around it. The sound stopped momentarily and then came back with a vengeance.

The dream was full of colours, shapes and some flickering flashes of light—a lot of red, black and blue.

A scream echoed through his tired mind. It was full of terror. Somewhere near, a young child was crying fiercely.