Friends Against All Odds?

Chapter IV - The first Word

The fourteenth time was different. The sky was lit differently, I could see it without opening my eyes. It was darker now, and it took me about 2400 drumbeats to open my eyes completely. I looked at a darker illusion of my own solar system, with a dark blue nebula crossing the sky. I recognised the nebula, I had seen it before, but I couldn’t quite make out when exactly I had seen it, but I was quite familiar with it nevertheless. I blinked a few times, my eyes slowly adjusting to the sky and the blueness of the room, and I saw clearer by the drumbeat. After a short period of time I could focus on other things such as the sounds around me. I heard him read again, this time it was a more sensational and emotional read. He lingered on two pages for 200 drums, then he lingered on some for almost 2000 beats, making little sounds of delight and sorrow at the same time, perhaps he was looking at old pictures that reminded him of something. I listened to him for a while, because it calmed me. I was so focussed on his noisy way of turning the pages that I didn't even realise that he had stopped, only when he sat on the bed again, next to me, he took my hand and the same procedure as every time kicked in shortly after. I bathed in the light of his time, I took it all in, tried my best to store it deep within me, I also tried to give him a sort of indication that his transfer was a success, so I moved my thumb against his hand, and he shot a bit more through my veins. He was careful, though, never gave me more than seconds of his lifetime at once, and minutes at max. He was kind, careful with not overfeeding me, and I knew that, even though I wanted more of that sensational time within me I would probably not be able to handle more than seconds at a time. I focussed on my thoughts completely after some short drumbeats, and I had the best idea I had had since I had been dead. I gathered information. I gathered knowledge. In the entire time I had always overlooked the fact that I did know him, and myself a bit. Instead of being all whiny about not remembering I was now keen on recollecting just what I remembered, and if that was only that I didn't remember anything. I don't remember anything, how is that possible? Poison? What for? Why don't I remember anything? Is there a specific reason for it? Trauma from regeneration? I've heard of specific memory loss, but entirely? Nah, that's not possibe. Or maybe it is... I continued thinking about this specific thing, and put up all sorts of theories until I focussed on more evident things. For example on the fact that I had two hearts. That he had two as well, and they were beating increasingly fast when he was seeing me react to his energy. He either hated or loved me. Love is not for us. I wondered just why that was, and concluded that we lived too long to believe in love eternal, because love was for us not a thing we could simply take through regeneration as we wanted to. Sometimes feelings stayed, sometimes they didn't, that was just natural. And the certainty of a loved one dying and coming back anew didn't necessarily help with staying in love. We had friendships, some perhaps more emotional than others. Who is we, I wonder, who am I? My reading flow is faster than his, and I label his as fast, suggesting that most people read slower than we do. High brain activity. We're geniuses, or it's our kind. Our kind is... what species am I? Two hearts, regenerations, highly developed brain, ability to feed off time, suggesting a sort of control over time... I didn't manage to find out more, though. My feelings for him suggested that we had known each other for a long time, not until then such a complex field of feelings could manifest itself so clearly that it would endure strongly over a loss of memory. I knew that I hated him, from the bottom of my heart, but there were other sentiments, I liked him, I trusted him, somehow I knew that I had known him for a lot of years, and I couldn’t tell how old I was. We didn't measure age, we measured regenerations, and that way we hardly ever knew just how old everybody around us was. By the fifth regeneration everybody would go hush-hush about the number of remaining lives. I couldn’t even tell in just which regeneration I was, nor in which he was, and I couldn’t remember his faces, nor could I remember mine. I realised that I was brand new, so I couldn’t even tell what sort of face I wore. As I inquired which body I had taken I got confused, since I couldn’t quite make out which bodies I had worn yet. I dismissed the thought, knowing that I wouldn't be able to remember my face, because I knew nothing that was temporarily. I knew that I had spent a lot of time with him, so much that I knew his tone, even though he was also brand new. I also remembered that calling each other brand new was the right way, perhaps because we burned to regenerate. We were part of legends like that. I felt that I should know so much about him, why I hated him and why I still trusted him with my life. I also felt a little tingle in my guts when I remembered his sombre and yet calm voice. He was raging, but he remained calm. I was confused as to the little amount of romantic involvement that clouded my judgement, involvement with such unimportant sentiments usually destroyed the best of friendships. I was confused, entirely, now, and I felt flooded with deductions, and fear, so I decided to stop thinking about my involvement, and focussed entirely on the waves of time swapping over me. I smiled after some long drumbeats and the energy surged more quickly. I couldn’t quite tell just how much time he had given me, but I calculated that it had roughly been about 12000 drumbeats, equalling about 50 minutes of his own life. I wanted to slap him for giving me so much time of his, as I wanted to kill him for poisoning me with kindness. He stopped at one point, and I decided to drift off again.

I focussed on the energy the next few times that he transferred his precious time to me, since I didn't want to think further, it had only left me more confused than before, and I had not wanted to admit that there was a little bit of romantic involvement from my side for him, whoever he was, he maybe, as I imagined it, was my oldest friend and enemy at the same time. I absorbed the energy and used it to my advantages, and after some more transfers I could move all of my fingers at the same time. At some point I suspected that the unrest within my patience was caused by this taking so awfully long, after twenty times of energy transfer I could move my hand, and I wasn't ready to wait for another twenty times to maybe move my other hand at the same time. But I couldn’t do anything against it, I was trapped and chained to the bed, even though there were no chains, nothing tying me up, but I couldn’t move my body enough to even turn my head. I could open my eyes, move my hands, smile. And he nevertheless rested by my side, showed incredible patience and healed me with his time, more with every time. I let him, and I smiled, but I never managed to look at him, because he always kept just out of reach, maybe he didn't want me to see him, yet. I trusted him now, and I couldn’t help but needing him by my side. The more energy he shoved into me the calmer I got, the kinder I felt. I didn't specifically like it, in fact, I hated knowing that he was poisoning me with his love. But it was necessary in order for me to survive this madness. I am strong. I will be. I felt the drums in my head, growing louder with the strength I gained, and at times I was happy to enter the void for some relaxation.

He was halfway through injecting energy into me for the forty-seventh time when a loud noise interrupted him, and the energy stopped immediately. I listened to the familiar sound, a dark and sombre dawnkg, rolling through the room like a disruptive wave, and he rushed out of the bed. I felt him stepping out, and suddenly a wave of fear rolled over me, it was certainly stronger than the bells ringing for some sort of reason. I knew the bells meant danger, meant fear, meant a paradox, perhaps. I suddenly knew that I was safe in the room I was in, because... I don't know, but I know that I am. I heard his steps fading into the distance, and I was so afraid that I forgot that I didn't need his help, and that I didn't want to receive his help no longer, I had almost decided to not receive his help because his time was weakening my spirit, my thoughts, my strength, somehow, but every time he gave me his time I felt the tingling, and I let him do it. I hated him when he did give me time, but I felt so alone when he didn't. And now that he rushed out of the room I was scared like a little child, and I wanted him to stay desperately. He had been with me for all this time, whenever I had woken he had been there, waiting, looking at me, maybe, or reading, to waste his time, but he had always been there. Now that he was walking out on me I felt like screaming after him, and I tried my best, but I couldn’t bring out a single sound, as hard as I tried. I felt that there was a little tear running out of my eye, rolling down on my skin with an incredible heat clinging to it, and I regained more power. Where there's tears, there's hope. I channelled the energy I had stored in my hearts, and focussed. I made it run upwards, tossed it to my throat, tossed it to my mouth, gave it the entire strength I had and focussed on just how much I missed him already, how much I hated him leaving, how much I hated him... I need my friend back...

“S-t-t-e-ei...,”I managed to whisper, somehow, my voice sounding so different from what I knew it for, but I was brand new, I couldn’t know my voice. It was no more than a hoarse whisper, my voice sounding like chalk on a blackboard, screeching and stuttering, but I made him stop. His steps stopped, his feet stuck to the ground. Then he walked again, and his steps came closer, fast, until he was right by my side again. He did the most curious thing, then, and it confused me even more than everything else. He suddenly touched my forehead, I had closed my eyes since stuttering the word out had robbed me of all remaining energy I had had, a warm, wet touch, and I realised he gave me a kiss, on the forehead. I felt interest shooting through me, and I forced it backwards, as I wasn't interested in downgrading myself to the level of pets.

“I won’t go outside, I promise. It would be challenging to get lost on the way to the control room, I imagine. I’ll be back in an instant, rest, please,” he whispered into my direction, his voice also relatively unused, and I was stunned entirely. Not only because I physically couldn’t move, but also because there was so much warmth and heart in his voice, so fatherly, but I knew somehow that he wasn't my father, I had peculiar sentiments towards my father, and I knew that the feelings I felt for the stranger by my side were nothing I would find myself feeling for my parents. Not that I knew them, not that I remembered. I couldn’t quite make sense of everything he had said, but I followed his advice. I fell into the void before he moved away from my side.