Kaprao Ocimum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deadpanlife) wrote2012-04-23 01:06 pm
deadpanlife) wrote2012-04-23 01:06 pm
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the door to the roof gently closes
You are fourteen. Right now, you wish you weren't. You wish you weren't because it means Kaprao is fourteen now too, and he has reached the end of his rope, so to speak.
It's not as if neither of you weren't expecting it -- Kaprao has been counting down the days and perigees since he turned twelve, and he is frankly a little surprised to have lasted this long, considering all the chemicals that have been in and out of his system. You do not think about it, whether or not his habit of using himself as a guinea pig for testing poison as a grub may have impacted this. You never approved of it either way, when you found out about it, but it wasn't as if he really stopped either.
You have managed to get him moved out of the sick bay and into your private quarters, if only because the other medics believe that it isn't going to make a difference at this point. You want to think they might have tried to keep him around when normally the infirm would have gotten culled, out of gratitude to him, but you know that even if that were the case he's only still here because you've kept him from the culling block. He spends most of his time just lying on the couch, too weak to even really walk now, drifting in and out of sleep; you have told him he should be in a recuperacoon but he insists on staying on the couch because it's more comfortable. So he says, anyway.
When he's awake he talks as if he isn't just waiting to die. He talks about the flowers he's brought into your room before, how they should be taken care of. He talks about little things, like the other medics and his experiences teaching them before he grew too weak to do anything, and you listen. You have been trying to stay around as much as possible, and while you can get away with it you're not sure how much longer you can push it. You may be higher than most of the trolls stationed here, but you are still young.
It is on one of those nights where the two of you simply sit together in comfortable silence that he reaches out for you and laces his fingers with yours. You are used to this, you have both done this so many times ever since you were grubs, but this time he breaks the silence.
"How much happiness did you have?"
In a quiet little voice.
And for a moment you are afraid to answer because it sounds so final. You are afraid that you will not find the words to give an answer that you feel is satisfactory.
You bring the hand close and kiss his fingers, like you've done so many times before.
"A lot."
And his smile is so unbearably gentle and sweet and it feels like you're both seven again, two stupid young grubs who can't articulate their feelings in words and only had these little gestures to express themselves, and you want to keep seeing that smile and hear his quiet voice again and again and again --
His fingers slip from yours, and you watch him go.
It's not as if neither of you weren't expecting it -- Kaprao has been counting down the days and perigees since he turned twelve, and he is frankly a little surprised to have lasted this long, considering all the chemicals that have been in and out of his system. You do not think about it, whether or not his habit of using himself as a guinea pig for testing poison as a grub may have impacted this. You never approved of it either way, when you found out about it, but it wasn't as if he really stopped either.
You have managed to get him moved out of the sick bay and into your private quarters, if only because the other medics believe that it isn't going to make a difference at this point. You want to think they might have tried to keep him around when normally the infirm would have gotten culled, out of gratitude to him, but you know that even if that were the case he's only still here because you've kept him from the culling block. He spends most of his time just lying on the couch, too weak to even really walk now, drifting in and out of sleep; you have told him he should be in a recuperacoon but he insists on staying on the couch because it's more comfortable. So he says, anyway.
When he's awake he talks as if he isn't just waiting to die. He talks about the flowers he's brought into your room before, how they should be taken care of. He talks about little things, like the other medics and his experiences teaching them before he grew too weak to do anything, and you listen. You have been trying to stay around as much as possible, and while you can get away with it you're not sure how much longer you can push it. You may be higher than most of the trolls stationed here, but you are still young.
It is on one of those nights where the two of you simply sit together in comfortable silence that he reaches out for you and laces his fingers with yours. You are used to this, you have both done this so many times ever since you were grubs, but this time he breaks the silence.
"How much happiness did you have?"
In a quiet little voice.
And for a moment you are afraid to answer because it sounds so final. You are afraid that you will not find the words to give an answer that you feel is satisfactory.
You bring the hand close and kiss his fingers, like you've done so many times before.
"A lot."
And his smile is so unbearably gentle and sweet and it feels like you're both seven again, two stupid young grubs who can't articulate their feelings in words and only had these little gestures to express themselves, and you want to keep seeing that smile and hear his quiet voice again and again and again --
His fingers slip from yours, and you watch him go.