The Infinite Nothing

XI : colours that don't exist

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Lying next to Tristan with their arms and shoulders pressed together felt much like being in reach of everything he had ever desired, yet didn't have the courage to reach out and take.

Tonight, they were far from the dusty rooftop of a building that held no love. They had taken the bus to leave the city they both believed to be their biggest cage, and now they were spread out on soft grass tickling their arms on a hill that brought them closer to the universe's secrets.

Ivan wanted to reach out and take Tristan's hand, but he knew it wouldn't be appreciated, so he laid still. The boy next to him was oblivious to his thoughts as he smiled at the countless stars.

"My boss will get mad if I'm late to work tomorrow."

"Will you be fired?"

"Unlikely."

"Then it's okay," Ivan muttered softly. "Sometimes, a day off is necessary."

Tristan's soft smile seemed unusually honest. "Leisure is the mother of philosophy, is it not?"

"That's not what I meant. I still believe you think too much."

A quiet chuckle wavered through the darkness of the night like a faint ghost watching them with curious interest. "And yet I don't know anything."

"You know what's really weird?" Ivan asked, his voice almost fading in the night. "Your world seems so devoid of colour, and anything bright. Sometimes I doubt if you can even tell the sun from the moon."

"I'm actually colour blind."

"Really?"

Tristan turned his head just enough to grin at the boy next to him. "Yes."

Ivan was still debating on whether he was being messed with again when he decided to continue. "Your world is grey and you're grey and still, I dream of you in colours that don't exist."

Their gazes were locked in each other as time lost its meaning. When Tristan spoke, his voice was a mere whisper. "What a pity I can't see them."

"Do you have dreams?"

"Never."

"Not one?"

"No dreams. Head empty."

Ivan hummed in discontentment. "I dream a lot. And in my dreams, life is beautiful and bright and the sun can't touch me and my mother's words are nothing but liquid gold, filling her mouth and lungs and hardening so she can't speak to me ever again."

Tristan frowned at those careless words, yet didn't interrupt him.

"And I dream of you. In my dreams life is beautiful, and you're beautiful, and we're so alright."

"That's why it's just a dream. False affirmations preserved for a world that cannot be," Tristan muttered, looking back at the stars above them. "Maybe for the better."

Ivan didn't understand how Tristan could wish for his dreams to remain dreams. Ivan didn't understand anything and yet he remained where he was, enjoying the feeling of Tristan's warm body next to his and the millions of shining deities smiling down at them.

"Ryder would never watch the stars with me," Ivan whispered.

"He's missing out, then."

Ivan smiled and fell silent and Tristan wondered what he was thinking about. Glancing at the boy, he wondered about the honesty of his smile and the glassiness of his eyes that only tonight held a depth Tristan had never seen before.

"When I was fourteen, I fell on my face so hard I couldn't speak for weeks."

Ivan chuckled at the random confession, and the sound awoke some of that warmth in Tristan's chest he had believed to have died months ago.

"Poor you."

"Nah. Life changes when you can't speak," Tristan muttered. "Everything's different."

"Let me guess, you become more spiritually connected with the earth?"

Tristan met Ivan's challenging grin with a tender smile. "I prefer, teachers didn't call on me and everyone stopped trying to have mindless conversations. But yes. You pay more attention to other things when speaking isn't an option."

Ivan tilted his head, and for the first time Tristan noticed the light freckles just underneath his right ear, almost hidden by his unruly curls.

"What else is there besides speaking?"

"Touch."

Ivan doubtfully narrowed his eyes. "You can tell someone an entire story only through touch?"

"You give too much power to words," Tristan muttered, barely registering how he reached out to place a hand on Ivan's cheek, his gaze trained on eyes that reflected the light of a million dreams.

Ivan's breath failed to leave his lungs as he froze at a touch so simple yet tender it made his world spin. Tonight, Tristan's words didn't cut him and leave him in pain. Tonight, everything was different except for his eyes still speaking the stars and his smile holding truths Ivan had yet to understand.

"Don't let yourself be dependent on words," Tristan said quietly, and then his hand was gone and Ivan could breathe again.

"I want to know everything that's going on in your head. Your knowledge seems so..." Ivan struggled for a second. "Infinite."

"It's really not. Most of it is useless."

"Yeah, but some of it is still interesting to listen to."

Tristan gave him a simple shrug. "It's all a matter of perspective. I like to quote Plato, but honestly, he might be looking up at me and thinking of ways to shower me in his shit from the afterlife."

"Looking up? Are you implying he's in hell?"

"If there were heaven, no one could reach it."

Ivan wrapped his arms around himself, for once allowing himself to think about a topic so important to Tristan and so useless to himself. "Where do we go after death?"

"Let me try heroin again and I'll tell you."

"You're not funny," Ivan said sharply, and Tristan resumed to smile.

"It's either a big darkness, an infinite nothing. Or it could be rebirth. Shit, maybe heaven and hell are real. How could we ever know?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Ivan. "Doesn't it make you crazy? To never really find the answers?"

"To be honest, I'd rather focus on the things I don't understand in this life."

"Fair enough."

Tristan couldn't blame Ivan for keeping his thoughts simple for the worst fate he could think of was to turn out like himself. It was just like Ivan had described so simply yet accurately; Tristan was grey, and so was his world, and sometimes, it was hard to tell the sun from the moon for neither warmth nor coldness affected him.

And yet they laid close to each other in nights were darkness became light, their beliefs most different and perceptions so contrary it was hard to imagine a world with the two of them together. And yet here they were, uncaring for what couldn't reach them under a net of stars so bright and promising.

Ivan smiled and Tristan fell silent for he felt words had lost their meaning. For once he couldn't describe what he felt, let alone express it; silence was most welcomed to the warmth in his chest and Ivan's rapidly beating heart.

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