Artificial Horizon - A César Fernando Basa x Reader story

XL - Gravity

A natural force of attraction which pulls bodies towards each other and which pulls objects on Earth towards its center.

* * *

In the end, I am unable to leave the house at all. César's mother clings to me all throughout the day, ensuring that I'll not be able to leave so easily without gaining her permission. I try to understand that with how I and César are too close to be married, and with our previous interactions, despite the fact that I'll definitely not be able to replace César to either her or her husband, I am the closest one whom they can treat as another child. A woman marked by their son to love forever if given the chance to make the vow in front of God and man.

To ensure that I do so, I join her with her prayers throughout the day. In times that I tell her that I'll prepare us some meal, César's father will pave the way to volunteer in doing so, somehow realizing that my presence is much more of a strength to his wife than that of his. And, in the end, I brush the probability of making it to the hospital today to do that of my duty. Instead, despite not being too religious, I hold on to a rosary of my own and already commit to memory the lines of every prayer and litany that she mutters against each and every bead, hoping then that the unseen most powerful presence will listen to the pitiful intentions of His people.

However, with that being said, whatever illness this is I have seemed to strike with its symptoms once again. And this time, in a much additional pain meter than I think I can take at all. If I continue remaining here with not being able to fulfill that of my duty, I fear that it will escalate to a notion that I'll find myself dying.

By evening, as neither from us are hopeful that César will be back home compared to last night, we manage to receive a message from him. At least, that's one of the things that he promised to me that he'll do so, if ever he is given a chance. The first one who answers the call had been his father, then he asks for his mother. Both conversations had been short, until he then asks for me to take the call. Even that of ours had been too little to my liking as he asks me how my day went on and I tell him honestly what happened, excluding my worsening health in fear that it will cause him to worry much more about me.

I also ask him what happened and told me that the aces of the Sixth had been recalled to Clark yesterday and are now back here in Manila with planes of their own; with the rest of the unit asked to be divided between Nichols and Zablan. Before our call ends, he apologizes to me that he can't stay for far too long on the phone and asks me if I know that he loves me. After I answer that I do, he says that he also knows that I love him and finally ends the call.

* * *

The following morning, hoping that rest is all I needed, I feel much worse. As if I can also call that sleep of mine a good rest when I wake up countless of times throughout the night at the sound of planes overhead and airfields continue being bombarded. In the end, when I wake up before the break of dawn, I finally give up in my trial to have a decent sleep and prepare myself for the day, with every intention to leave the house earlier than expected than to be once again barred by César's mother once more.

I know it is quite undutiful of me, but I know that this is the right thing for me to do so. Remaining here with the rosary and prayers aren't enough of a difference for me to make. I am edgy to be helpful, at least, and finally see the outcome of how the war rages on right now to stop me from worrying blindly over something I don't know the range of is.

However, as I exit César's room quietly, I am a little surprise that I am beaten to be the earliest riser of the day—for seated on his usual seat on the living room, listening to a low volumed radio relaying endless news, is none other than but César's father.