V: Dawning Smile – Chrysanthemum (Friendship)

—Hot.

Red, scorching hot – a burning neck, saliva stagnating – and a voice, helpless and etiolated, chimes tentatively within white; from it, an echo resounds, like a distant forgotten bell.

Yet, words – phantasmal, fathomless – could only remain within their crystal pouches, ever tainted, ever tarnished, never escaping.

And so, a hand – mine – faltering, trembling, so very weak, touches upon the forlorn and arid construct of flesh that is my neck. One finger, two fingers, three, all intertwined, left from right – gripping, clutching, ever deeper.

Blue flows down, and I finally gulp, going down and down.

Inhaling... exhaling... Once, twice. The purveyor of life makes its entrance and relief cowers me from within.

“Arctedius...” I exclaim, eyes adrift, always turned towards the rain.

A hero, right?

With my other hand, I grasp my left elbow, making it ever slightly closer, more protected, more shielded.

Then... I don’t have to be myself, I simply can play a role, someone that isn’t me: I can lie.

And with my left hand, I – little by little – go up and up, one finger at a time, before palpating my lips so slightly, all of it, before letting a smile blooms. Fake and mutilated, yet, of a warmth so very incommensurable that I couldn’t bring myself to reject it.

It’s alright. After all, there is nothing wrong with me. I will just apologise and then...

“Athisia,” a clear crystalline chime echoes within white once more, “it’s been hard, right? But now, it’s alright. To your every woe, I will listen; to your every sorrow, I will listen; to your every fear, I will listen; to your every anguish, I will listen. So, at the very end, you will be able to look at me – not with a face tainted with misery and melancholy – but one filled with joy and sincerity.

“—It’s alright, Athisia. From now on, your smile can truly become genuine; as your friend, I promise.”

Deceit, lies, sugary tales intended to make me succumb... Its beauty and gentleness shouldn’t make me fall like all these fragile petals of pink. It shouldn’t…

Yet… that very same sweetness couldn’t help but captivate my every move. And so very easily, with just one simple turn, my eyes, of a dull rose, appose themselves upon the purple candy – finally revealing a so very tender and humane smile, beautifully blossoming within the light of dawn.

Orange – ethereal and so very elegant – ushers us within its blurry reflection, and a sweetening and soft wind oscillates his purple hair, magnificent and pristine, within the upright tower of silver. Morning comes, and a shine – hopeful and sinless – is born anew.

For but a minute moment, I gasp.

Why…? Why is he so kind? Forgiveness is but an unattainable dream…

“I–”

One, two, three.

Steps – subdued yet soothing – approach, closing in my direction ever so slightly.

Four, five, six.

And in their advance, orange and purple intertwines to give way to a sublime and picturesque radiance.

Seven, eight, nine.

I have to look away, I have to flee. I can’t… Not now…

—Ten.

And then, a tentative warmth – so very unreal – envelops me, at first coming from my very outer shell, before spreading, from top to bottom, to my deepest innermost essence; its frailty and shattered echoes ultimately uncovered. With it, a beat makes itself known, quicker and quicker, blazing, burning even – yet, of a flame so very delicate and peaceful.

I blink again and again, in quick succession, before finally looking up.

Is that the true face of kindness…?

Finally, I could no longer resist: with faltering hands, I reciprocate the gentle warmth given to me, as I hug Arctedius back. Comfort, tranquillity and peace befall me; and softly, slowly and smoothly, a hand – caring and cosy – caresses ever so slightly my silky hair, up and down, down and up.

“…Athisia. It’s now alright.”

Ah.

At last, blue – crystalline and transparent – flows freely, pouring down and down, upon my face, upon the ground and upon my friend’s arms. So very quietly, forty-seven years of struggle and of repressed emotions are finally spilling over, overflowing, overwhelming all and everything – finally escaping my iron clutch.

“You can cry, there is no shame to it.”

And so, the silence goes away, and at long last, tears make themselves heard all throughout this colourful world of fantasy. Pouring down and down, without any restraints, the now free blue lifts a weight that has been crushing me for so long.

“…Thank you, Arctedius.”