Keep me in distant sight

Chapter 16 : Touch

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing all around.

Nothing registered.

Nothing registering.

The primordial void of the Universe all stored inside one being.

Nothing. Not even the light, not even a tiny sparkle, a flicker, an ember, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Condemned to float around till the end of time?

Black, the blackest night covering him. Holding him down, weighting on him.

(The mere fact that he can somehow articulate what is the night is already a sign that the light is on his way.)

A light, faraway, by his side?

A presence that comes in flickers, like the first light of a baby star, all hidden behind an opaque cloud.

He can't move but he wishes he could grab this light and follow it.

The black turns gray, a little bit lighter each passing... A little bit lighter. From black to dark gray and some more. Until he feels almost like a person again and regains a bit of his bearings.

He floats around, like a naufragee lost at sea, like he had shed his physical body and turned himself into a particle of light to whizz through the Universe.

Inside his own head, he feels trapped inside a labyrinth with so many doors that lead him back to where he is. Many rooms to explore but all the doors look the same, he's stuck inside a limbo that stretches everywhere, a world within him he can't leave until he finds the right key. And sometimes he's so tired from searching, he sleeps and sinks deeper.

It takes so much time. Or does it take none at all? One by one, like the first stars that came to be, his neurons light up and chase the darkness away, turning the clouds into a nursery where he can recollect everything that makes him who he is. His body heals, his brain as well - it reconnects every little thing, every little piece of information, sending signals after signals to wake up the sleepy parts of himself until it can function pretty much like it used to be.

Except awakening is still not happening, despite the warm and low voice which he can hear clearer and clearer, speaking, whispering, murmuring words he can't understand, with tones he has never heard and yet, and yet, this voice pulls him up gradually, leaving the abysses of his mind to the surface. Gently, smoothly, he can distinguish every syllable, can feel a hand in his, a heart that beats, a breath that caresses his face, lips that grace his skin, something soft that cocoons him and keeps him warm. Perhaps something else had kept him there, in this world, before his own mind. Something that sings so beautifully inside, something that helps him latch onto that voice, that presence, that light.

When the dark turns into a light fog, Akaashi can remember pretty much everything. He knows who the other is. And when he opens his eyes again, he finally understands that dream, the one he had four years ago - it was merely a glimpse of what was to come. He should have tried harder at understanding it. Perhaps, it would have spared him the anguish of wasting away at the end of his journey. Or perhaps, it would have made him foolish enough to go outside.

He can't see much, but there's more to this room than wherever he was for the last moments (days? weeks? years? he fears decades). Above him, a ceiling of stone, barely illuminated by a fire, he can only guess by the shadows it casts all around. Glimmers of shiny trinkets make him wince when he sets his eyes above but at this distance, he can't see well.

He's under some kind of cover. It's soft and plushy, perfectly covering him from head to toe, with a fabric he has never felt before, he notes when he feels it rubbing at his chin. It smells vaguely like grass, but sweeter and softer, with his own scent mixing into it, sickly and sticky - but there's another scent, a spicy one, something that is different from his own sweat he can feel pooling around his collarbone.