The last color of odds ~ satosugu

1. 𝙖𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨

Standing up with a deep sigh geto stretched, lethargic noting the stiffness of his neck and the slight swelling of his muscles knowing he'd wake up sore the next day.

It would hinder his performance in the cult, his parents wouldn't like that.
God wouldn't like that.
Even though he'd already seen the keys suspended in the lock he walked through the sacred bookstore slowly.
He aimed at the minutiae of the shelves, the ornaments of the columns, the frigid floor that reflected the satellite shining in the sky.

It was all white. White and pure, pure and divine.

The scent of the books was the only mundane component of the establishment reminding geto of where he was. The pristine covers and the lack of dust even in the earliest pages made the place seem like a piece of Heaven on Earth.

Geto  would never admit it but it was there where he felt closest to God  even more so than in His house. It was where he felt most worthy of His observation. Where he felt he had the chance to be a heavenly boy, someone who deserved divine salvation.
Revering the environment he took the keys in his hands.

Cold.  cold and golden, golden and silvery.

Heavenly.

Divine.

Finding the correct key geto  turned off the lights. The change of atmosphere was easily noticeable in the absence of the pale beam of light from the chandelier on the ceiling.
Especially on nights like this when he was the last one to leave the place.

Believing that silence made the place even more sacred, the boy opened the wide transparent door without making any noise.
The door.
It was the only part that bothered him.
When he was in the bookstore geto imagined himself in heaven accompanied by other angels and books with records of the pure believers of the earth.

However a mere glance at the door and consequently  at the outside world and the boy remembered...

he was in Tokyo surrounded by sinners and books with records of the few souls who would have his salvation.

Glass.Glass and screams. Glass, screams and heat.

As soon as he left the library geto  felt chills. The sounds were disturbing. He checked the time on his wristwatch..

2:00 in the morning

' I should have been home six hours ago.'

Unacceptable.

He'd missed dinner. He wasn't hungry but how would he feel? He knew his parents had said their prayers at the table.
They had communicated with God and geto  was not there.

What if the deity didn't think he was worthy anymore? Could He with all his kindness and compassion  forgive a sinner like geto?

Feeling a knot at the pit of his stomach, he walked in the direction he thought was opposite to the commotion in the streets. Meeting those lost in God's way was the worst that could happen. He shouldn't associate with them. Geto  was a good boy.

Glass. Glass and screams. Glass, screams and heat.

The Moon bathed the streets as if it were a spotlight, all of getos  steps captured by the immensity of the great white. The bright colors of the traffic light dimmed and the screams, a forgotten memory in the boy's mind. A nightmare.
An invitation to the putrid side.

Geto  liked to imagine himself up there controlling the brightness of the Moon directing it towards another lost apple amid the horde of spoiled fruits. The moonlight was purely majestic.
Ethereal.
Everything was so ethereal up there.
So he fixed his feet in the middle of the street. Standing in the crosswalk he turned his gaze completely and solely to the Moon. To God.
He was seeking peace. He wanted to be able to focus on the star so intensely that God would feel compelled to bring getou  with Him. To heaven, eternal and ethereal.
His focus however kept getou  from listening to the growing whirring of the engines until they were too close.