17 7.1: Thirty Locker Generations (2/2)

”At what?”

”I don't know?” He says, his eyebrows climbing up his creased forehead. ”At death. We deserve to have died in a more honourable way. To be sent away...gently-” His eyes flutter. ”And to know that some people took this right away from our previous, sicker, vulnerable versions, is maddening.”

My stare lingers for a while, and I don't say a thing. I just keep looking in his eyes and wondering about what they saw in this terrible, dark world to dim his radiant soul. What could have truly hurt such a passionate person so much?

”Why did you do it, Tobias?” I ask him in response, and he smirks.

”I loved something so much and let it kill me-” He shrugs, and I frown, perplexed.

”What do you mean?”

”I can't tell you now.”

I blink blankly at him and whisper, ”Why?”

Tobias smiles sweetly and tries to look away. ”Because we have things to do.”

I frown, bothered. ”We're good here, Tobias. We needn't go.”

”This isn't how it works, Roseline-” He tells me. ”If you ignore what you need to get done, time just stops. You get stuck-”

I feel my eyes sting as Tobias pushes away from my locker.

”And what's wrong with that?” I ask him, touch my cheeks and stare at my wet fingers. ”I'm too tired. My soul aches for release. I just want nothing more than to stay-”

Tobias looks at me like he's sad. He then kneels, and I cross my legs beneath me, adjusting my dress as he sits right in front of me. His bony, exposed knees are supposedly touching my bare ones.

He leans close to me, his face a few inches away from mine. His hazel eyes are wide and glassy. To me, Tobias always looks like he's always in silent pain. Like all his sarcasm, his noncommital attitude is all a pretence to something much deeper and darker.

”Can I trust you with my deepest desires?” He whispers to me, and I gulp at the thickness of his voice and sincerity in his eyes.

I sniff finally and nod.

”Your soul isn't the only one begging for release-” He tells me. ”I want-” He pauses and swallows, eyes on mine, like it's a felony to want anything in this dimension. He breathes shallowly. ”Give me your hands, Roseline-” He licks his lower lip, and I stop breathing.

”My hands?” I blather.

He nods silently, and I lift them off the floor and rest them on his big palms. Tobias delicately closes his eyes and releases a soft sigh.

”I dig deep in the intricate, convoluted maze of my mind-” He whispers, eyes still closed like he's praying and head tilted back. ”I dodge a lot of dark moments, a lot of sharp razors of memories I don't want to carry in this heavy cranium of mine-” He frowns gently. ”And I'm willing to risk it all, to solely remember something I never saw or heard-” His throat bobs, and I can see my teardrops stain my dress' sleeves.

”I find myself craving something I can no longer aquire in that body of clouds that I have-” His words come out in short, heavy breaths, light on the tongue, but heavy on my heart. ”And when I'm tantalizingly close to grasping it- this missing, most important memory- my lungs expand in honey-sweet anticipation-” A tear slips from his left eye. ”But they always collapse down miserably, failing to feel this relief of release. This freedom of feeling enough.

”It's like a gasp for air when drowning in the waters of your corrupted thoughts. Too short to be fulfilling, yet long enough to leave you hungry for more-” He holds my hands tightly. ”You see-” He breathes out. ”I fail to be. I fail to bring this wandering fragment to my lost wholeness. I fail to remember how it feels to hold a beautiful girl's velvety hands. Yet if I look deep enough, I'll remember how clammy and warm they'd feel against my callous, cold ones-” He says slowly and opens his bright, hazel eyes.

”I fail to remember the feeling this close distance should give us-” He leans close to me as his lips form words I can't seem to comprehend. I automatically lean in too, eyes closed, and our foreheads touch. ”Our warm, entangled breaths, fanning our warm, flushed faces. Our hearts beating in sync, singing the sweet song of freedom. It's almost extraterrestrial.

”I also can't seem to remember warmth. It's like warmth is associated with the living, not the bruised, buried dead. And I know that the only way to access such golden moments is through closing your eyes and imagining it. But ever so gently, because of the fear of mis-imagining it and blemishing an original, rare memory of it. Irreversible damage.”

I slowly open my eyes to find Tobias' galaxies staring into my pained soul, and he continues to whisper gently.

”Look down, Rosey-” He calls to me, and I listen to his words that seem to flow in a remedial rhythm, stitching my ripped open, bleeding insides. ”Look at our hands. I deeply crave knowing their texture on mine-” He whispers, and my gaze flickers back to his eyes as he starts drawing circles on my palms. ”You remember how that feels like?” He asks, and I remember the nights I'd spend in Joshua's bed, hands intertwined, engrossed in deep conversations. ”Remember how it feels like to draw constellations on one's palm?”

”No-” I whisper shakily, and Tobias closes his eyes.

”It feels like an ear whisper from a lover-”' He leans in my right ear, and I almost hyperventilate. ”It feels like icy water on a hot day. It feels like Christmas snow and summer drizzles-” I imagine the things he's whispering to me, and I almost feel him against me. His heat, his everything. ”Like a feather brushed against the sole of your feet. It feels like- like-” He seems to run out of words, but then he pulls back from my ear to stare in my eyes. ”It feels like warmth. Rare and impossible-” He says, his eyes flicking to my parted lips. ”Impossible-” He repeats heavily, tearfully and locks my eyes.

I let out a suppressed, ugly sob as Tobias searches my eyes. He then lifts his thumbs to wipe away my tears.

”I don't even feel that-” He tells me, rubbing his wet fingers against each other. ”Regardless of how intimate it should feel-”

”That's all you desire?” I ask him with a hiccough. ”You want to feel?”

”I don't want to just feel. I desire to feel deeply. I want my soul to shatter into a thousand pieces because it felt something too profoundly, something this steely soul of mine can't handle-” He tells me. ”I want my feelings to choke my windpipes into breathing. I want them to suffocate every piece of indifference away. That's all I want.”

I cry, and it's no longer for me and my misery.

”You were a poet?” I ask him softly with a sniff, and he painfully smiles at me.

”I've grown rusty now-”

”You are beautiful-” I whisper and rest a hand on his left cheek. He moves his face away, and I slowly drop my hand.

”There's nothing beautiful about my pain-” He chokes out.

I look in his teary hazel eyes and reach for his hands. ”Share it with me-” I tell him. ”Dump it on me, Tobias-”

Tobias sniffs and shakes his head. ”We need to go-” He whispers, his lips wet and red. ”We need to find a port here to charge Sierra's phone.” He sniffs. ”We need to move on.”

I stare at him despondently, disappointed.

”Okay-” is what I tell him mechanically as he pulls away from me, and I swallow hard.

He stands up, wipes his face in his jacket's sleeves and picks up Benji. I get up too and reach for Sierra's phone that I kept in my dress' pocket.

And even though all I want to do is lay down and listen to Tobias' words and voice, I know that there's a whole shitty adventure awaiting for me.

And simply, the truth won't figure itself out.