Good Things Fall Apart

Énouement

Monday arrives tangled and complex.

For one, Victor wakes up on the floor of his room, his limbs twisted up in his sheets. Unsure whether it was the drop to the ground that woke him or the sounds emanating through his door from the rest of the apartment, Victor sits up and pulls his arms free. He rubs his eyes and yawns, stretching and looking around.

A headache has bloomed dull behind his eyes, the result of not sleeping well.

How could he sleep after the conversation he'd had with Benji? Everything Victor closed his eyes he was greeted by Benji's face, soft and carnival-lit, and his lips forming the words "I love you."

Victor giggles to himself. That's real. Not some self-indulgent fantasy, not a dream. A memory. A forever memory.

He gets to his feet (and almost collapses to the ground in the process—his legs are still snarled in fabric) and strides to the window, opening the shades and looking down into the street.

It's a gorgeous day, partly cloudy and breezy. Along the block the trees sway, gentle rattle audible through the glass. Victor smiles.

Even the thought of returning to school tomorrow morning isn't enough to dampen his mood. Still, it's enough to send a jolt of anxiety down his arms, fingers twitching against the window.

Victor shakes the sensation away and rolls his shoulders back. Tomorrow is tomorrow. He has other plans today.

With buoyancy, Victor washes his face and brushes his teeth, choosing a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt he's borrowed from Benji (a Rolling Stones graphic shirt, though Victor couldn't name a single one of their songs).

Before he leaves his room, Victor gives it a sweeping glance. Something about it feels different. Where once the space had been hollow it feels spacious, expansive. This room has held him through so much, cradled him in the best moments and caught him in the worst.

A bit to his own surprise, before he joins his family in the kitchen for breakfast, Victor kneels at his bed and prays.

Um. Hi, I guess. It's been a long time since I did this, and even when I was in the habit it always felt sorta weird. Like, am I doing this right? Is there a wrong way? Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say thank you to whoever or whatever might be listening. I'm not really sure what I believe in right now, to be completely honest, if there's something divine or if it's just fate or what, but things are really good right now. They were really bad not that long ago, and even though I've definitely been putting in some work to try to make things better, I can't shake this feeling that maybe there was some other force that was sort of...guiding me, I guess? It's not that I don't think I should be proud of myself, but...I don't know. Just thank you. This summer felt like the summer of second chances, and thirds and fourths and—well, you get the idea. So yeah.

Victor opens his eyes. A canticle of birds rings outside, sunbeams cutting through the shades. He remains still for a moment, just a moment, basking in the melodic vibration of the world as it prays with him.

Brasstown is his destination; it feels like ages since he's been, though in reality only a few days have passed since his last shift. It's a pleasant time, this solitary walk through Shady Creek.

He turns onto a familiar street and pauses. He's only been here once or twice, to visit a woman whose name he's having a hard time remembering. Victor frowns and removes his hands from his pockets, grasping at the air. Her face flashes in his mind for a fleeting second, her figure framed by a worn doorway, sublime paintings on her walls.

"What?" he says out loud, surprising himself. His frown deepens; he can picture the house and the taste of chocolate comes alive on his tongue, and now the face is gone, hiding somewhere in his memory.