Of Love and Death.

The Future Chapter 19: Sunrise Pt. 5

Five weeks later

He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd forgotten something important.

It was teasing him, right at the corner of his brain. He knew that he'd forgotten something. But he didn't know what it could have been. He didn't know. Had he forgotten his train of thought? Had he forgotten...where was he? Where was he? Why couldn't he remember anything? Why was there nothing before this? How could there be nothing before this?

It didn't make any sense. He knew that. If there had been nothing before this, if he could remember nothing before this, how did he know? How did he know that he had forgotten what came before? How did he know that something had to exist? How could he feel this whole gaping past behind him, that he didn't know, didn't understand? He should be okay with there being nothing. This was different.

Where was he? He could figure that out. It was just as simple as - he. He. Why was he just he? Why couldn't he remember his name? What was his name? He'd forgotten that too, hadn't he. Forgotten it, and he could almost tell how. Almost feel this deep pit, deep blackness. No-it wasn't even black. Black was the absence of color. This absence was the absence of even that blackness. There was more nothing than nothing itself could conjure up. That had taken him away.

Perhaps...perhaps at some point the nothingness had sucked away his name. Perhaps his memories, himself, who he was had been taken. Taken by the absence, to try and fill it. Return it to being something. It was sentient, this nothingness. It was conscious, it could feel. It didn't feel unfamiliar to him. He knew it. He'd been there before. It was the one thing he could vaguely remember.

That nothingness...he could feel its force. This thing. This thing didn't feel separate from him. It was so familiar. Etched into him, like it was a part of him. No. No, not a part of him. It was the other way round. He...he was a part of it. He knew, somehow, that he shouldn't be able to think right now. He should be just drifted away, a web of string and thread, woven in with everything else. But he wasn't. It was like he was coming unknotted, untangled. Like he'd been shaped, knitted, pulled into something. A simple divot, a distortion, something.

By nothing of its own decision the nothingness was letting him go. And he...he could feel. He could feel something. And he could feel the nothingness. It wasn't nothing. He hadn't been able to feel anything but its presence, he'd assumed, he'd jumped to conclusions.

It was something. It wasn't nothing, it was something. And it wasn't letting him go. He could still feel it. He could still feel its strings. Deep, so deep in him that they were not woven into his veins. The strings were his veins. He could feel. He could feel it. And it was so familiar. So, so familiar it made his heart ache, burn. He wanted to be a part of it again. It wouldn't be so bad, to forget, to drift away again. But he didn't want that either.

He wanted to keep feeling. And he could feel this something helping him. Pushing him forward. It wanted to help him, just as much as he wanted to help it. They were the same after all. And it was getting easier. It was getting so much easier to just feel.

So much felt familiar. He had forgotten something important. But he could feel it, pooling into him like blood. He could feel the something pooling into him like blood. It had a name. Their names were the same. It was on the tip of his tongue. But he didn't know it quite yet. But he could feel what it was, what it meant.

It was nothing short of life.

Life, burning bright. Making mistakes again and again. Falling prey to your worst instincts that burn shadowy red in the corner of your eyes. It was trying to rise above. Understanding how far into those depths one could fall, helping them stay away from those depths. It was the want to hurt, the want to lash out. It was the want to heal, to help. To keep safe and protect.