Harp's Song

Part V

Over the next few weeks in human time, Harp visited Axel on several occasions. During the daytime visits, he'd follow the human to work and through his daily routine. In the evenings, he'd play songs in Axel's apartment. Although Harp didn't truly think Axel could hear him, the human's demeanor seemed to change in quite a visible way after Harp played. It was enough motivation for him to continue playing night after night.

Harp also began to notice more subtle things about the human he was following. Axel's uneven gait, for example, remained with him even when he wasn't drinking, and Harp came to understand why he often used what looked like a straight, smooth stick of wood for assistance. It was also obvious that Axel was a good actor, able to portray a confident face during the day at his job and around other people. At home, he was more somber, more in need of company, in Harp's opinion.

All he could do was play his instrument. Play music and hope.

And much like Axel spoke to Roxas in the dead of night, Harp had begun speaking to Axel as he followed him from room to room. It was nothing profound, for Harp's life in Heaven was really rather mundane and uninteresting. Harp spoke about Sitar and his practices and personal compositions. He talked about his apprehensions and frustrations with learning new, more difficult pieces as Peter's welcoming ceremony steadily approached. More and more it was about Harp's increasingly frequent meetings with Sorael.

"He's really quite nice, Sorael," Harp had said once, as Axel kindled a piece of wood in his fireplace to keep out the draft from a steady flow of snow outside his window one winter evening. "I always imagined named angels would be different somehow, or at least act more…stuck-up, maybe?"

Nearby, the household cat pricked up her ears at Harp's voice, but it was Axel she went to when the man crossed the room and got himself comfortable in an oversized leather chair.

"Some are, I think," Harp continued. "Just not Sorael. He's sweet but serious about his position, and not much older than me, I've discovered."

In his chair, Axel turned, grabbed a magazine off a nearby side table, and began to flip through pages. The cat that Harp had come to know was named Luna jumped onto the back of the chair and circled once, twice, before curling up at the nape of Axel's neck.

True to habit, Harp arranged himself nearby as well and began to play a calming, comforting song.

"He hasn't outright said it, of course, but I suspect he has a muse as well," Harp said, keeping his voice low and soothing to match the tone of his melody. "Just like I have you."

The last part elicited a bit of a blush on his part. Harp knew it was silly, knew Axel couldn't hear him. His body didn't seem to care though.

"And," he forged onward, the notes of his chosen song swelling in a gentle climax, "I think it might be the choir director, Rikuel."

Harp could not understand it, for Heaven's choir director seemed a harsh, unforgiving creature to him. If he had remained in Heaven, having never visited Earth at all, Harp suspected he might have left his pondering there, concluding that it was simply not something he could comprehend. But his experiences and observations with Axel had shown him quite clearly how people were capable of acting differently depending on the company they kept. Perhaps the choir director acted differently around Sorael than he did publicly in front of other angels.

"At any rate, I will perform with Sorael at St. Peter's welcoming ceremony tomorrow," Harp said. In his seat, Axel inhaled, visibly beginning to relax. Harp looked up and smiled. He loved seeing his human — his Axel — content, if not entirely happy. What he couldn't do for his body, Harp could at least hope to achieve for his soul. He continued talking, his voice sweet and sing-song as he played.

"Every angelic year — sorry, I'm not sure how that translates into your time," he interjected his own explanation, smiling apologetically. "But every angelic year St. Peter welcomes in the souls of humans who've left your world. And every year our orchestra plays music to welcome them. It's quite nice."

Axel's eyes began to droop, then shut, his posture almost completely relaxed in his chair.

For a time, Harp was content to play quiet chords on his instrument, listening to Axel's steady breathing as the human slept before him. After a time, Harp spoke again though, giving voice to the thoughts he'd been having since his evaluation.

"It's quite unconventional for an angel to play a duet with a member of El's choir," Harp said, his expression thoughtful. "In fact, I don't think it's ever been done befo—"

A soft sound burst forth from Axel's mouth, almost but not quite a whimper. Harp stopped mid-sentence, watching his human, his muse, with a protective gaze.

Luna twitched her tail, brushing it briefly across Axel's cheek, but the red haired man didn't awaken. Jaw clenching and unclenching in sleep, Harp could see the tension in Axel's unconscious expression. His own features turned immediately sympathetic. He didn't truly understand dreams, but sometimes he'd heard Sorael sing of them. They were unique to humans and other living Earth-things. For Harp, the idea of traveling to an imaginary world while unconscious was a fascinating concept. He didn't need to sleep, although sometimes he did anyway to pass the time back home. It happened often enough when he was enjoying sunny days in Heaven. But dreaming? Never.

It didn't look enjoyable for Axel though, and Harp's music seemed no longer to be having much of an effect. With his entire focus on Axel's pained expression, Harp's instrument faded from between his knees.

He stood carefully, pulling the silvery ends of his robe up at the waist as he stood, before releasing them and slowly approaching the sleeping figure with caution. Axel's cat perked her ears up, staring at Harp with unseeing eyes. By now, Harp wasn't spooked, understood that animals could often sense things humans could not, even if they couldn't see him in a traditional way.

"Axel?" Harp spoke quietly out of habit, although it hardly mattered. Asleep or awake, Axel couldn't hear him and Harp knew it.

He yearned to reach out, to calm the gently twitching movements that spoke of so much emotional pain Harp couldn't hope to fully understand. Slowly, he inched closer to the sleeping man, kneeling down before him, close to one knee and a hand.

"Peace, Axel." It was a soft plea that would go unheard along all his other words.

Tears were welling up in beneath closed green eyes, slowly trickling down the human's sharp features as another quiet, pained sound emitted from the back of his throat.

If a human could bring about the death of an angel, Harp was convinced he was slowly dying now, watching the terrible, heart-breaking expressions his human was making with no hope of being able to help him in the slightest.

Without thinking, Harp raised himself to a standing position, bent down and wrapped his thin translucent arms around Axel, yellow wings fluttering above them both like a feathered shade.

That's when Harp felt the jolt.