Maryanland, September 20, 2040, 5:55 PM
Another day, another long walk with Flynn. Yay.
Although, I'd have appreciated the walk more without the added factor of getting soaked.
That's what she said.
Stop. You are a grown, mature adult.
What do you mean by grown? You're short as fuck.
That's it.
In more middle ages poetic news, it's raining. Everyone and their pets know this because all the sky allowed our eyes the okay to see were heavy drops of cloud juice. And the rain took advantage of this because not a single person or thing impacted by its continuous fall survived. We're all the rain's prisoners, and it has been claiming its territory for hours now.
But I will admit, I love the reflective effect on the road or anything acting as a screen, and even more the smell after it rains. Not to forget, cloudy grey skies are always a bonus for the aesthetic. This much I find solace within. What causes my panic is thunderstorms. But I'm relieved that none of them resurfaced throughout the early morning and afternoon.
Flynn took advantage of this, saying it was his favorite weather, and dragged me on a walk. And his pity, in return for the pathetic sight of us getting soaked the second we went outside, told him to let me choose our ending destination.
About damn time he did, if you ask me. This dude's definition of a walk involves taking an hour-long train ride to who knows where and walking through a trail in a sketchy forest. After fearing for my life on more occasions than one, my wet clothes convinced him to let me decide where to go.
To my surprise, all it took for him to agree was a frown, and teary eyes pointed at my clothes. Part of me wants to overthink his reasons, but the other part slaps me across the face and tells me to shut up. The worst thing is I believe the wrong suspect, and a heavy reality check in the style of 'he doesn't see you that way' throws itself at me. Either way, I'm enjoying this and will continue to enjoy it until an asteroid hits Maryanland. Right...
Every morning when my REM sleep didn't want me anymore, thoughts about the Earth gift shop where I bought the hijo de puta came to mind. For this reason, Flynn and I are heading toward the same gift shop.
Flynn still doesn't understand why we're going there, even though I've explained it more times than I can count.
"Can you tell me why we're going there? I get it's where you got the projector from, but what else?"
"Because I want to, as simple as that. Why? You don't want to go with me? You can go home if you'd like," I display a pout that makes my insides cringe.
Please never do that again. Manipulation sounds a lot better than doing that.
I halt my thoughts when I see Flynn's eyes soften, their usual fatigued appearance long gone. What makes me want to almost projectile vomit is his reddening cheeks. To make matters worse, a bright smile joins the crowd. "Okay, fine let's go," he agrees without further argument. If I knew a pout made him agree to anything I asked in a second, I would've done that ten minutes ago, and saved my throat a workout.
That's what she said.
That does not establish any sense.
The dull look may be gone from Flynn's brown eyes, but it sure stayed in the sky. I don't know the difference between each type of cloud, but the ones above us screamed, 'you're about to see the storm of your damn life.' Shit, please no. Scared Azail is not a sight for sore eyes or any eyes.
"Everything fine?" He asks, placing his hand on my shoulder.
Even the slightest showing of chagrin doesn't go past this guy.
To conceal the clumsy rise and fall of my chest, I smile.
"Yeah, we're here. Let's go inside," not wasting a second longer, I grab his hand on my shoulder and drag both of us inside the small shop.
If thunder struck while we were outside, I would have cried and hidden under my jacket. I mean, I'd still do that even if we were inside, but I feel better tucked away from the thunder's direction. For someone who knows psychology, even using all the techniques to ease phobias did not help me get over my lifelong fear of the sky lightening up. One day, I won't flinch, one day.
In lighter news, we're now at the hospital that birthed the hijo de puta, I mean the shop. Nothing changed, everything still lies in messy clutters and the ceiling still dawns images showing maps of different countries.
"You know what? I understand your obsession with this place." The man who is too tall for the short ceiling says, exploring the area.
Turning to him in mock offense, I place my hand on my chest. "I'm not obsessed with this place," I counteract. Why would I when all this place has done is add to my stress?
The giant has the nerve to laugh before saying, "oh, I don't know, maybe because we met because of this shop. So whenever you think about it, your heart flutters," his audacity makes him lean forward, raising a teasing eyebrow.
Would it be entirely unjust if I slapped him?
Time to play.
"Yeah, you're right," my smiling mouth agrees.
I kind of feel bad for my next words because a hopeful look dons his face after hearing them.
"Nevermind," I mutter, waving him off with my hand.
Screw me, honestly.
Ever the one in control of your words, aren't you, Azail?
To save myself from answering questions, I ask one of my own.
"Why don't we look for another projector? When I bought the first one, the girl at the front sold it to me for a dollar. There might be more here," there might be, but that raises more questions.
"Would that mean that another Image World exists? Even better, would this be like those sci-fi movies that show a different universe or some shit?"
"Took the words right out of my mouth, babe."
Shit, I didn't mean it like that. I need to get the leftover Sapphire out of me.
It's too late though, because his eyes widen in shock, "BABE?"
Okay, he did not have to shout.
"You didn't have to shout, and I didn't mean it like that."
"عبالي" He sighs, holding a hand to his heart.
That's what I thought.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, confused.
"Didn't want to get my hopes up- anyway, let's go search." He says in one breath, not allowing me to register his words because he bolts across the room.
Before I could overthink his words, a voice interrupts me.
"Darling?"
I turn around and see the familiar redhead walking toward me.
Out of damn nowhere, she throws herself at me. People need to warn me before doing that. I need time for mental preparation. She doesn't take offense to me not returning the hug, but gets the hint after half a minute and lets me free.
"Hi, how are you? I remember you, you're the projector girl," her excited self squeaks.
Well, damn me, forget the good psychologist legacy I wanted to leave behind. Looks like being the projector girl reigns supreme at the moment.
"Uh yeah, I am, I guess," I answer, unsure.
She glances at Flynn before looking back into my eyes with her bright ones, "and I see you brought a guy with you. First date? We'd feel more than honored to give you everything you choose to purchase for free. We call it the honeymoon special," I'm taking advantage of this.
"Yes, we are on our first date. But excuse me for now, I'll meet you at the front desk with a plethora of items soon."
When I find someone worthy enough of dating, I'll do this again. What are they going to do? Say no? It's the first date, after all. Although, the deal might be long gone by then. I don't assume that finding a love interest will happen within the next decade.
Let's go tell the giant man about this. I'm not willing to spend a shit ton of money today.
I go to stand next to him, but before he can talk, I put a finger to my mouth, telling him to hush. Ushering him to lean down with a finger gesture, he does what I asked.
"Listen, don't have a heart attack or anything, but I want you to cooperate with me throughout the duration of our time here, okay?"
"Okay?" He says, furrowing his eyebrows.
"So there's this deal called the honeymoon deal here, where any purchase made by a couple on their first date will be free."
"You told the redhead we're on our first date, didn't you?"
"And in return, we'll get all the shit we want for free, you're welcome, Habibi."
My love, dear, darling, etc.
What's with me and these endearments today?
He sighs before muttering okay, thank you.
Mission success.
"I'll look for a projector, you find whatever you want to buy," I order, and he nods. Sounds like a plan.
I watch him walk to a corner filled with books before I begin my hunt. Because I do not have an eye for things, I made life easy by going to the same asthmatic-repellent corner that houses cameras and projectors.
A wheeze combined with a cough leaves my chest the nearer I get. Damn bitch, I did nothing to you to get bullied like this.
Not letting the dust win, I continue to get closer and succeed in the end. There's nothing I'm looking for in particular, but I keep my eyes open for peculiar artifacts.
And boy, do my eyes land on a peculiar artifact. My head tilts in confusion when I notice a 4x4 image tapped on a rusty camera. Letting my curiosity win, I bend down to grab it. Detaching the picture from the camera happened with ease. The dust and rust collecting on every face of the camera made the once strong holding tape get off with a slight pull of the hand. My hands perform impressive stretching and pat my back to get rid of the ache from bending.
I blow on the picture in my hand to remove some of the dust, but not after I let out a few coughs. Once the dust disappears, I narrow my eyes to focus on the person in the image. Beaming blue eyes alongside the toothy smile of a toddler cause an involuntary smile to lift my mouth. As scary as some children might declare my resting face, I never forget to admit their cuteness within the silence of my thoughts. The little boy in the picture looks nothing short of adorable. Kids can be cute when they want to be.
My happiness left as quickly as it came when I noticed the date written on the back of the picture. Every trace of a smile packs up its bags to leave. The beaming smile I previously shared with the toddler gets replaced with a frown and a heavy feeling in my chest.
June 24, 2029
The day he died, the day my best friend died, the day when guilt embedded itself so deeply within me because of him and my dad.
My brain keeps telling me I want to cry, that I should, but no tears line my eyes. I don't look the part, but I sound like it with the shaky breaths I'm taking. My surroundings felt long forgotten because the grief was all I could see. Looking around to make sure no one's paying attention to me, I place the picture inside my jacket. A desperate drive to see the picture makes me pull it out of my pocket, and I ransack my eyes all around the picture. I know the kid in the picture is not him, there are many blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids out there, but the date in the picture makes me want to protect this picture with my life. My tears decide to show up on the third minute of me staring at the date when my eyes find the tenth similarity between this child and him. Almost as if a dam broke its restraint, a waterfall of tears let loose.
Holding my breath to stay silent, I roam my eyes to find a bathroom to hide in. When I find one, I don't take a second to run to it. After locking the door, I let my tears fall as they please.
You killed him.
Why did you have to be the better person?
He would've been alive and well if you didn't let your ego win.
Why did you have to get rid of the one friend who stayed with you through hell?
A heavy knock on the door makes me wipe my eyes with hurried movements. I don't care if the dust from earlier itches and hurts. I probably deserve the pain. Hiding the picture in my pocket again, I speak as best as I can.
"Y-yeah, one second," my voice shakes, making it obvious the person inside is having a sob session.
"Azail? Are you okay?" Flynn's worried voice causes more tears to fall, shit.
I look at the mirror before putting on a smile. That way, I can hopefully use the facial feedback effect to my advantage.
"Yeah, I'm okay, I'm fine really. I'll be out in a second, I-I have to fix something for a second. Yay, shopping!"
You're not convincing anyone.
Not wanting to make him wait any longer, I wash my hands and splash my face with water.
I curse myself for how worried he looks. He shouldn't have more stuff to worry about.
Before he can ask a question that will make me sob all over again, I speak. "I'm fine, the dust from that corner got in my eyes, and had an unofficial sob session in the bathroom when washing the dust away."
He stares into my eyes for a second, "are you sure?"
"Why would I lie?"
Many reasons.
"Okay, I trust you," he concludes the conversation.
"Anyway, did you find anything?"
He nods before picking up a projector that looks eerily similar to the one I have.
"I found this, and it reminded me of the one you have," he voices out my thoughts.
Deciding that I love my lungs a little more today than I did yesterday, I don't pick up the projector from his hands. Although the desire to inspect the thing makes me want to take the risk of an asthma attack.
"Why are you holding that?"
We turn and find an older-looking man gazing at us with skepticism.
Flynn and I share a look, I took the hint that he didn't want to talk, so I did. I have a hunch that whatever I say won't save us, but I'll try my luck.
You'll regret not discussing your response with Flynn first.
No, I won't. I mean, how hard could it be?
"Uh, it looked like a projector that I have, um, that's why we're inspecting it," my voice excelled at sounding unsure. The disapproved look on Flynn's scrunched face told me those weren't the right words to say.
The man narrowed his eyes, "and why do you have an interest toward projectors in particular?" Geez, he seemed quite protective of these projectors, for whatever reason. Deciding that I shouldn't speak further, I gesture for Flynn to do so. He smiles at the man before coming up with a much better diversion than mine. "What my girlfriend is trying to say is that we like projectors because they're so popular these days, right, my love?" He plays the role further by exchanging a loving glance, which I return for the act. I nod, "yes, right," praying that the curious man will leave us alone. Thank goodness he did after having taken Flynn's excuse and trading pleasantries.
I spoke the words nagging at me the second he left, and Flynn had the same plans.
"Why did you say that?"
"Why didn't you say that?"
"You first."
"You first."
"No, you first."
"No, you first."
"Azail," Flynn warned, and I took that as my cue to not get on his nerves even more.
I clench my hands, blurting it all out, "I panicked, okay? You didn't tell me what to say during these unexpected situations, and I blurted out whatever I thought was the right thing to say. I didn't know that it would get him riled up. You should've spoken first if you didn't want that to happen. There are times even I don't know what to say if you don't tell me what you think is right and what is not-
"Azail," Flynn attempted to interrupt, but did not because of my ongoing word dump.
"I know we can't say the obvious, but I don't know what I shouldn't say. What even was his concern, anyway? You have to tell me what you want me to say, Flynn, or else-"
"Azail," Flynn resorted to saying my name louder. That, with the growing warmth on my shoulders from his hands resting on them, stopped my mouth from speaking further. I felt shame in my gut because of how immature I'm being and kept my gaze focused on the ground. "Azail, look at me, please," his voice adopted a breathiness to it, prompting me to look at him.
"I'm not mad at you, I will never be mad at you. This was a simple misunderstanding due to miscommunication, it's okay." The sob session from earlier, combined with the overwhelm I felt at the moment made my eyes water again. My pitiful state made Flynn let out a quiet no. Calloused hands that were soft to the touch wiped any tear before it reached my cheek. Fuck it, add what he's doing to the reasons for my tears list. That didn't make Flynn happy, and I felt even worse.
"If I said or did something wrong, then please tell me. I can't see you like this," he stressed, pulling me in for an embrace.
Ugh, I'm being so dramatic.
I rest my forehead on his chest, wiping the last bits of my tears away before lifting my head. The sight of my bloodshot eyes makes him frown, but I smile to reassure him.
"I'm not sad because of you, I'll never be sad because of you, Flynn. However, I am sorry. I saw something that made me upset, so I couldn't think clearly when that happened. It's not your fault, and I shouldn't blame it on you. Forgive me, please?" I show him my bloodshot eyes to gain pity points, but I think my sniffle did the job.
Flynn pulls me in for another hug, "there's nothing to forgive you for. I told you, it was a misunderstanding, and it's over." I wrapped my arms around him in an uncharacteristic hug I desperately needed. "We communicate before doing or saying from now on," I hold my pinky out to solidify our promise. He smiles and connects his pinky with mine.
The constant movement of people outside the shop distracts me for a second. I look out the window to see about four or five more senior women staring at me. Confusion stirs my insides when I narrow down potential reasons. Don't tell me they're the older version of Anna's cronies. Jokes aside, the way they're staring at me looks almost... hopeful? What in the world is going on?
Upon participating in a staring contest with them, I notice the redhead standing next to an older man conversing with him.
"Flynn, tell me I'm not seeing things and those ladies aren't staring at me."
The ever-so-obedient guy cranes his head to look at them. When he returns his gaze to mine, I didn't need a verbal response. They are staring at me. I'm about to struggle to breathe again.
Maybe my shocked expression translated as a call for help for Flynn because he wraps his arms around me and pulls both of us to the corner right next to the bathroom. Once we get situated there, he bends down, so he's face-to-face with me.
"If you want me to get rid of them, I will"
I gulp, "no, but just stay beside me, can you do that?"
"Of course," he nods without a second to think.
"We can leave if you want, screw the stuff," he says, and I nod my head like a bird.
Thanks for the joke, Azail, Azail needed it.
A hardened expression takes over his face, and he thinks for a second before grabbing my hand in a tight grip. Before anyone can say anything, he positions me to stand in his opposite direction, away from the people. He takes wide steps, and I do too, not wanting to stay under the radar of their watchful gaze.
Victory aligns our horizon for a mere second when we think that standing a short distance away from them solved the problem. All for it to turn into a tremendous loss when the breathy voice makes us come to a quick halt. I want to dismiss all rules of respect and continue walking away, but her question stops the world around me from moving the way it should.
"Honey, you're the one who bought the projector, am I right?"