Rain to Sea

10. Fighting the inner demons

Off tucks Gun in the bed and pulls a cozy blanket all over the little guy.  Gun immediately curls in the bed, murmurs some sweet nonsense and drifts off to sleep. Gun looks really tired, physical weariness is a given but emotionally he has been battling with Off who on his part refused to give in. It's not fair, Off realizes at least that much. He hasn't been fair to Gun and Gun has a right to be angry with him. He truly deserves that anger. 

So he keeps his hands to himself not daring to disrupt Gun's sleep. 

Even in this faint light of the night lamp, he looks ethereal like a being from entirely another divine world. A stubbornness put out to show on the outside and a mellowness well-preserved on the inside. That's Gun, Off would say. 

How perfect. How adorable.

And Off made him cry. He hates himself for that.

He simply wants to shield Gun from all the defined and undefined monstrosities lurking in the world but who is going to shield Gun from the scars that wounded Off? Those scars that stand as a reminder that Off  had failed to protect someone precious. 

And Gun is far too precious to lose. He met Gun at a point when he himself was withering away and after that meeting, immediately he has caught on fire, burned with a rekindled passion. He doesn't want to dwell too much on what these chaotic emotions mean or whether he should yield to these passions. He is used to this wavering state of mind like a boat floating in water without an anchor. But now Gun wants to be his anchor. He isn't certain how he should deal with it. 

Suddenly everything's a bit too much. Because he's just really good at this. The art of messing things up. He's really going to mess this up. 

Off abruptly makes his escape into the balcony, the open space in the dark of the night almost looks like a peaceful sanctuary. The downpour, that had threatened earlier when they were outside having that very emotional conversation, never made its appearance and now the sky has suddenly gone too silent. 

Too silent that he can hear his inner demons battling out loud, trying to overpower him. He'll let them win as  always because he's on the losing end anyway. 

It's then. 

Arm emerges from behind as if he has heard a distress signal from the balcony late at night. Somehow Off is glad that he's not left alone tonight, especially tonight, but he's too much of a snob to admit it out loud. 

"So what's on your mind?'' Arm reaches him gingerly for fear of any backlash. He can't blame Arm. The events of the day had been such that it's perfectly normal for him to feel a little bit antsy reaching out for Off. 

"A lot of things.'' Off gives an evasive response. He doesn't remember exactly when this evasiveness became a part of himself. Now that it is, he's unable to shake it off. 

"About Gun?'' Arm asks all curious. The earlier cautiousness dissipitates and gets replaced by curiousity. 

Off can't help the snort that leaves his throat. "Should it always be about him?''

Arm simply shrugs. 

I'm not the one who is trying to run away now. 

He needs a distraction. 

Off tilts his head downwards. "You know we never really talk about the elephant in the room. It's getting huge.'' 

"You mean the coffee house business?'' Arm asks. 

They have been postponing it for too long, running away without dwelling on this reality. Running low on their collective savings, he doesn't think they can keep up the pretence any longer. But no, this is his penance, he's serving his sentence, witnessing his dream- his life's goal crumbling to nothing before his own eyes. 

"We are losing the game, Arm. It's high time we give up and you guys should do something else.'' Off lets out a sigh. It's his penance, not theirs. 

"Off, but this is your dream.'' Arm insists. 

Was. Everything's in the past tense now. He dares not to correct Arm though. 

I need you. Need you to the point that it scares me. 

Damn he seriously needs a distraction. His fingers fidget. He reaches for his hand and starts chewing his thumb nails mercilessly. The edges are becoming ugly and scraggy, like how his life has become. His calm demeanour is abandoning him like a bad friend who would leave when life gets too wild to tame. He feels his whole system pinwheeling out of control. 

I want to be more than that for you.

"Should I get you your cigarette pack?'' Arm offers unable to bear Off's fidgetting. 

"No. I think of quitting.''  He couldn't say  'I already quit' to his friend who had been willing to stand upside down if it meant Off would give up on that unhealthy addiction. 

Arms eyes widen in disbelief, it's comical but Off shouldn't laugh. It's rude. They have been pestering him for months now to quit smoking and now he's dropped a  bomb. 

I'll have to stay with you always.  Always so that you'll never smoke. 

Distraction. 

"Off do you want me to..''

He drags Arm in, wraps his arms around Arm's broad shoulders and falls into his friend's embrace. He can feel Arm's hand patting his back, calming him with false assurances. Too afraid that the quiet will return to tear his head apart, Off clings onto his friend harder and focuses on Arm's soothing whispers. 

This night. It will not let him sleep.