Tonight is His Night

I look out the trolly to the site of the opening, beams of light shooting into the night sky complementing the glow of his creation.I remember the way he looked 2 years ago, hopeless holding his brush at the edge of a cliff. My idol, the architect who inspires my songs, so carefully planted is every detail in his schematics those who observe it can’t help but stand in awe as if observing all creation from Gods seat! Yet even he who crafts palaces of silver and gold knows the shadowy voice of Thanatos. He had texted me “goodbye” without explanation nor context. I couldn't let the man who inspires my singing leave my life so easily. I searched and found him at the building site for his work to come, at the edge of a cliff, holding a brush to the sky and a bottle to his side.Noticing my approach he swung the brush in a flourish spinning towards me, teetering on the edge. “You have come to be my witness, my canary, to sing of the tragedy of an architect, to immortalize my works!”The way he looked so strangely at me, like witnessing me yet not, I hated it. As if he saw something other than me, something I didn't.“You are an immaculate speaker even while dead drunk!” I flourished back, it felt good to dismiss the statement.“Too immaculate to die at the hands of a cliff however, talk to me, then maybe i'll sing back.” That was the first and only time I’ve seen him smile.We came to an agreement with time, the weight of his work was troubling him, that the cost of perfecting his works is misery, but with companionship and what came to be our relationship we pushed through.I return to reality, the trolley is full with men, women, and children attending the grand opening. Fading back into my imagination, it is as he said two years ago. This creation will attract a mass unlike ever before, but for every person he sacrifices some of his heart. He told me back then “When a singer hums a melody, they must follow through. So too must an architect when taking steps towards their project, even if it means I must destroy and re-create again and again. I will have to complete it”And he did follow through, sacrificing hundreds of papers I could never understand the contents for.I exited and walked towards the exhibit, the environment around me like dull blocks of white compared to the gleam growing ever closer, all else felt inconsequential. This is the moment he struggled for, the day he will feel eros, alive.My phone vibrated from within my pocket, returning me to reality.I ran.Crowds of people impeded me yet I pushed through.The opera house he designed, his magnum opus, grew ever closer. The beauty of it is no concern anymore, only what lies inside. my heart beat ever quicker as the security recognized me as his, and let me inside. It was not fear, I realized, but couldn't put the feeling to words.I entered through the side entrance, avoiding the peering eyes of the masses, pushing past red curtains. There he stood on the stage, as if orchestrating, a brush swinging to the air and a gun held in his hand.The way he looked, as if seeing something I could not.Dozens of seats separated us, empty ears to witness his work.I pushed forward with all my will despite despising the unnatural look he bore. I felt something lurch from my stomach, throat, then mouth as I approached the 4th of the 12 rows “Wait!”.“Sweet Canary, why would we wait to finalize my creation?”He spoke softly, calmly, as if inquiring like I had asked a question so unexpected and strange.Finalize? I'd thought, thinking back to the past, is this what he meant by completing it?5th row“But why like this?! Why not cut a ribbon and be done?”7th“For I have made a deal with Thanatos my love, Eros shall be my reward, this building and my memory will withstand forever as a memorial!”Speaking in metaphors like a poet? Now?!9th“Thanatos?! No one of that name exists, stop romanticizing death like you're some poet and tell me why you're doing this! We pushed through, today is meant to be happy!”“Stop romanticizing Death? Oh my canary, I have been for three years. I have loved and kissed death, even now your voice is like music soothing me to endless sleep!”Why?11th“I have invited you here for one reason, your final inspiration, indeed if you are my Thanatos I am your Eros! The song you will sing, the tragedy of the Architect, in these halls!”My heart sank.12thI love you more than life, why would you say that?I was there.“I hate this!”Is this what he planned from the start?He held me close.“I hate it too.”I could feel his heart beating“I'm so tired.”It was oh so similar to mine, do we share that indescribable feeling?“I tire too"“I wish this would end”Today was meant to be happy, to inspire me and others alike“Then end it”My heartbeat fastened, I felt the heaviness upon it vanish, taken aback by excitement. it had been an inspiration. That was the feelingHe slipped the revolver into my hand, a warm smile on his face.Yes, this is what he wants, to inspireI pushed it against his heart.To immortalize his work and inspire othersBlood scattered on the red curtains, revealing a red that defeated the previous pigment.To be the Eros of othersI stood before his collapsed visage, elated and inspired“Marvelous”To inspire others.I opened the buildings doors myself, asking the attendees to come in, murmurs came as to what announcement their prized architect might make within the opera halls.I saw their faces light up as I entered the stage, ready to sing.And then contort, as I revealed what lay behind the red curtain.I sang the last song I would sing with a warm smile, I would be their Eros, and they my Thanatos.