Curtain Call of Quietus

He was always one to be fascinated with death.

Thoroughly seduced by the moments after life’s bittersweet kiss lingered into nothingness and slaughter’s tender embrace rushed forth to consume.

He told me that there were two types of people: those ruled by the desire for life, and those ruled by the desire for death– you were either ruled by Eros or Thanatos, the respective masters of each.

At least that’s what he said his brother had told him.

His brother had died a few months before I met him, apparently he’d jumped off a building with another girl from his class. They were found intertwined on the pavement, hands still clasped tightly together with a horrified crowd surrounding them like a halo.

The media had called their story ‘A Modern Day Tragedy of Love’.

He said that theirs was a true romance but I was hesitant to agree, it was hard to look past the morbidity of their mangled bodies to see the romance in it; to see the satisfaction he said they’d achieved.

I tried to see what he did, but I couldn’t wipe the sickeningly vibrant smear of red away to distinguish the gratified from grotesque.

It was the hot season again and I endeavored to stay close to him; I didn't have a doubt that he was only one particularly muggy day away from joining his brother.

Of course I worried, I was his only friend and -because of the time I spent dedicated to following him around- he was my only one, too.

He always seemed to be looking far off in the distance, like the answers for all he wanted to know were written in miniscule print along the curvature of the sunset; I rarely saw his face until it was from the side. I was used to seeing his hair tinted with the pinks and oranges of late afternoon as he watched the sun’s lazy descent and I watched him.

He told me he was trying to find a reason; trying to find proof.

I knew he meant justification.

He couldn’t accept the fact that his brother had so easily left him for some girl; that he’d eternally bound himself to someone for a reason he desperately wanted to be love.

That was the only explanation he could accept, so he kept looking.

I wanted him to look at me; I hoped that, maybe, he would stop searching if he did.

On more than one occasion, I wondered if he even knew what he was looking for anymore.

I would always talk while he sat and stared, the backs of our shoes scuffing dully against the front of the concrete wall as our backs rested on the chain link fence prohibiting people from doing what we were.

The gap his brother and that girl had made in the barrier was still there, no one had wanted anything to do with the rooftop after The Happening and we went there frequently.

We’d tentatively claimed it as ours since it was his favorite place to search and think.

“...maybe it’s because the world doesn’t care.”

It wasn’t like he never talked to me, but it was common for silence to fill the air between us when it was this late in the day, the sun’s rays being at their brightest and most stunningly burning orange as the very last of its face sank behind the city.

“What… what do you mean?”

I was careful to keep my voice as hushed as his, not wanting to risk missing what he would say as I very carefully turned to face him fully; fingers tightening in the handful of fence I was holding for safety so I could catch myself if I slipped.

Or, more importantly, if he let himself fall.

“No one remembers.”

I was quiet, not quite understanding what he was trying to say but unsure he would elaborate if asked.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to decide since he continued after a moment more of silence.

“They were gone like that… and no one cared. Their story was just another pile of words for people to stare at; they don’t care.”

I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tight in mine in the hopes it might draw his attention enough to look at me. It didn’t.

“You care.”

Isn’t that enough?

“I care about you; and if you care, I care.”

He didn’t tell me I was wrong, but he didn’t lose the faraway mist in his eyes either.

“It started with a text… I found his phone; he would always run after her when she–”

I was surprised for a second time when he spoke again, not exactly in answer to what I had said but… I didn’t care, so long as he kept talking to me.

He didn’t leave space for a response and stood before I had the chance to try, disappearing through the door that led to the stairs and leaving me to scramble after him.

He was already gone by the time I made it to the street and I didn’t try to stop myself from envisioning the two mangled bodies directly below where we had been sitting only moments prior.

I stared at the place where the two of them had been for a lingering breath before setting off to find where he had gone; I wasn’t worried I’d lose him, I knew all of the places he might have been and I’d visit each one of them if I had to.

It was most likely that he went to visit his brother, he frequently did so almost as much as we sat on the roof so I wasn’t surprised to find him there; a small smile on my face as I gently tapped my shoulder against his arm.

“I knew you’d be here.”

His hands were in his pockets when I’d arrived but he withdrew the one closest to me and let it hang near mine.

“I knew you’d come.”

I chuckled quietly, easily closing the distance and intertwining our fingers together; his hands were cold and indented slightly across his palm like he had been holding onto something tight.

“Yeah, of course.”

I wouldn’t ever stop going after him.

He withdrew his other hand, a cracked smartphone with a darkened screen being stared at for a long, thoughtful moment before he leaned forward and placed it beside the stone with his brother’s name engraved into it.

We were both silent, his fingers tightening and loosening around mine as I heard him breath big, deep breaths in and out; eyes alternating between closed and open to focus acutely on the device seeming to underline his brother’s name, birth, and death date.

Finally, long after the sky had grown star studded and the street lights had flickered on, he opened his eyes and… looked at me.

“I’m not my brother.”

And then he smiled. At me.

“And you aren’t her.”

My eyes were quickly wet with unshed tears that promptly began to fall, my palm growing damp where I had placed it firmly over my mouth so I didn’t make any unnecessary noises into the fragile moment between us.

My voice quivered when I eventually spoke, eyes caught entirely by his as he continued to look and smile at me.

“S-So that means you– you found what you were… looking for?”

His gaze flickered back to his brother’s name for a split second before settling confidently on me.

“Yes.”