What if... (hfjONE-shots)

...Tomato Wasn't Eliminated (Pt.4)

Heyo my Edgelings!!!

GUESS WHO SHOWED UP IN MY MAILBOX!!!!!! THAT'S RIGHT MY LIAM PLUSH HATH ARRIVED AT THE THRESHOLD OF MY HUMBLE ABODE AND I AM FOREVER GRATEFUL TO THE PLUSHIE GODS ABOVE FOR GIFTING ME WITH HIS PRESENCE!!!! OH MY GOSH I SCREAMED AND CRIED WHEN I OPENED THE PACKAGE AND MY PARENTS STARED AT ME LIKE I WAS CRAZY BUT I DIDN'T CARE!!! I TOOK HIM TO SCHOOL ON MY LAST DAY!!! I AM A SOPHMORE IN HIGHSCHOOL AND SHOWED UP WEARING A PLUSHIE ON MY ARM LIKE A BRACELET. I WORE MY LIAM LIKE A FRICKING BADGE OF HONOR. I HAVEN'T BEEN THIS HAPPY OR EXCITED... LIKE EVER!!!!! JESUS TAKE ME HOME MY LIFE IS COMPLETE!!

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*clear throat*

Anyways...

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Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Stale water slowly forms into droplets along the ridged stone stalactites hanging over the cave like decaying, malformed teeth. The little pockets of liquid then freefall for what must feel like an eternity to such a small thing, before finally breaking into a million tiny versions of themselves as they collide with the cold rock floor. The tiny specks of minerals they carry with them slowly build up as years pass, drop after drop plinking onto the same spot... and they form tiny towers on the ground, a testament to the sacrifice of each droplet. As even more years pass, the stone towers grow bigger, each tiny drop of water fulfilling its purpose and contributing its share to the greater purpose it cannot conceive.

This slow, yet beautiful process was one that Airy often stopped to admire, turning and looking away from the white glow of the computer screen to stare as the droplets formed on the ceiling, slowly gaining weight as more droplets joined together and formed before maturing and letting go of their parent rock above, taking a tiny bit of dust with each drip.

Airy sometimes compared himself to the droplets. But his parent rock never gave him anything to take with him, and no other droplets came to join him. He fell too soon, too small, carried by the gravity of death. He contributed nothing when he shattered into the point of the stone tower below. He had nothing to give, so he simply slid off the stalagmite and fell to the floor, his one chance at serving some sort of purpose gone.

But not all the water that seeped into the dark, dingy cave stayed pooled on the slimy floor. Some of it trickled out of the arching entrance, passing underneath the thick, coarse vines that draped overhead. Once outside, those few lucky droplets were evaporated by the sun, rising to fulfill a second purpose.

Airy liked to think of himself as water. A water droplet with a second chance to serve a purpose. Water was useful, helpful, and good. Those were all things he wanted to be. But sometimes he felt like he was trapped as vapor in the sky, unable to make a difference to those below.

But Airy knew that wasn't a good comparison. Airy was nothing like water. Even the vapor floating in the sky was accompanied by many other molecules of water. Water was never alone.

Airy was more like the kerosene that sloshed around in his gut, and everyone else was like water. Anytime he tried to get close to water, or it tried to get close to him, it would get pushed away. Kerosene and water would never mix, never be able to be together.