26 11.3: Parallel Universe (1/2)

'let nothing trouble you, let nothing frighten you'

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”That makes no sense whatsoever-” I say. ”Why would we 'forget' each other?”

”Because we're wired to-” Tobias says, looking at me with his bloodshot eyes. ”I-I have those stories-” He says, tapping his forehead. ”-inside my head. Stories that I certainly didn't create and didn't live. Stories that must've belonged to someone-”

And all I can think of is that my eyebrows must be south because all they do is get attracted to the north of my head. And it's really unpleasant, really unpleasant to have your face frozen over, to not know if your lips are bleeding words or if your ears are singing Latin. Because hell, nothing makes sense.

Because, God, I cannot afford it making sense.

”You really think I wouldn't have more 'friends' over 30 years if I was allowed to?” Tobias asks like it's the most obvious thing ever.

And you know, what he says does hit me. It couldn't have been mere coincidence that Tobias chose me as a 'friend' over the previous decades.

”So I'll forget you?” My voice breaks. ”What-What if I don't want to? I don't want to-”

Tobias holds my flailing gaze in his unwavering one. ”You wouldn't even remember not wanting to forget me.”

I gulp, I reach for my throat, I rest my hand on my chest. ”But-but we're friends. We like each other. This can't just happen-” I sniff and point at him accusingly. ”God's gotta know that this is- it's cold-hearted.”

Tobias looks away. ”We were too-”

”We tried-”

”That's exactly what we didn't do!” Tobias says, his voice gaining strength. ”At least, not hard enough. At least I didn't-” He looks away. ”Death isn't something poetic and it isn't anything like falling leaves- or- or sky tremors or heartbreak. It is nothing like anything I ever related it to. Death is existing in a moment, then-then-” He gulps. ”Then, hush. Total lack. Non-existing existence.”

The level of panic I am in overwhelms me and I get on my feet.

”Why-why didn't you tell me that?” I ask him, slowly approaching him.

”Tell you what?”

”Tell me that we-we will forget each other, why? Why didnt you tell me that?” I press

.

”Because I thought you'd figure it out-” He says, looking down. ”It's obvious that everything works against our wish.”

My eyes widen as a wave of unjustified anger rolls its way from my core towards Tobias. And really, really, the more I stare at him, the more I see a broken boy who knows nothing but sad things. Sad things he keeps hidden in the tucks of his smile lines and the gaps of his teeth. Sad things that he's trying to constantly fight away by trying and trying to seek the bright side of everything.

And when I look at his defeated position, I deep down know that this is his exhausted body, battered by the scars grief left behind, constantly reminding him to forget. And I know that if he didn't tell me this, it's because he doesn't want to remind himself and depress it, not because he belittles my feelings.

And suddenly I'm no longer angry. I'm defeated.

And suddenly I realize that that could be the difference between Tobias and I. Tobias turns his battles, his agony into breathtaking smiles, while I turn mine into frown lines and desparate anger. I realize that all those masks are nothing but defense mechanisms.

I slide down the wall, next to him and stretch my legs in front me, feeling incredibly tired and sorry. He imitates me and stretches out both his legs, throws back his head and looks at me through the few hair strands that escaped his bun.

”I'm sorry for your mom,” I find myself whispering. He says nothing. ”And I'm sorry for us.”

He nods, his eyes welling up.

”I'm sorry for your pain-” I tell him. ”And regrets.”

”I'm sorry about yours too-” He says.

”We were broken-” I say. ”And personally-” I pause, my voice breaking beyond my control. ”If I'd blame this on anyone, I'd blame it on the people who forgot to teach their children manners. And on people that are so goal-oriented that they forget that there are other important things in life that's not winning.”

Tobias blinks away his tears, his hazel eyes pouring and talking to mine. ”I'm sorry we didn't meet under better circumstances-” He says. ”Like when we were alive, for example.” A brittle smile flashes across his features and my heart breaks in two.

”We are generations apart-” I remind him. ”I couldn't have met you even then.”

”In a parallel universe?”

I tilt my head toward him and swallow. ”We are in a parallel universe-” I sniff.

He says nothing for a while and stares at me. Then, ”I'm sorry-” He whispers sincerely, closing his eyes. ”I didn't know we were going to get that attached to each other or I would've told you.”

”Or you shouldn't have told me at all-” I say sadly.

Tobias puts out his hand in the space between us and I look at it with a small smile, remembering the lecture he gave about sensation just to 'show' me that he's a poet.

I put my hand in his and almost laugh because it's the most ridiculous thing ever. Holding hands (ehem, that you can't feel) with a ghost who will be wiped clear of your memory in a few days.