It seemed everything
real was over, anything else would follow them as long as they lived.
Screams pierced the walls closed upon the two
men, war was still fought beyond the stone.
The door closed behind them. One of them stood
as the other sat in the bed. No. He didn’t sat, he let himself fall, mostly
unaware of his body.
-Why did you not kill him?
- Why, you ask.
-He betrayed you. He killed them all for his
Cause, exploded the building with hundreds of people inside. He involved you in
his madness, he knew She was going to held you responsible no matter what, only
for what you are: someone convenient. He
knew you were going to blame yourself because you let him live back then, when
he was little danger and…
- I know. That’s why he asked me to end his
life.
- He loved you, maybe he still does.
- So do you.
- Yes, but I wouldn’t let you carry with the
weight of a massacre I made… I’d, at least, share the blame. – he added, with a
small and self-confident smile. – I wouldn’t abuse your love and trust like
that.
- Thanks. – he said, meaning it from the heart,
and then considering how little it mattered to him the moral implications of
that indirect pact.
- I guess I let him go because he was my
friend, after all. – he continued, sobbing his dry hands.
- Why? – he asked, almost desperate.
- Because I understand. I understand his Cause,
and theirs too… And I understand your
hatred and your love and your change and-
- Comprehension is no excuse for-
- What? Murder?
- he interrupted, his throat tight, mocking.
The other man opened his mouth to speak but
then closed it, he had a point.
- I know it´s no excuse. But, fuck, morality is such a flexible thing,
and I have that too damn present.
- I´m sorry… - and then he moved closer to lock
the man in his arms.
They hugged. They breathed each other’s necks
and waited for the symbiosis to end.
- I mean… - he said, conflicted, breaking the
embrace.
The ones standing sat beside the absent one. He
didn’t look at him.
He looked at his hands, red with the blood of
so many lives he had to end to keep his, then he turned to the other’s and
intertwined their fingers. They were as stained as his own.
- What I’m trying to say… - he lost his voice
in that red.
The other man held his eyes in place for a
moment, knowing that this wasn’t a response for his question, but this was him
trying to explain his actions to himself, and he was willing to listen to those
words that weren’t meant for him, as he had listen to him so many times between
harsh words or soft blankets.
- I do want his change. – he confessed. – I do
want the freedom he speaks of. I do want that, even if I understand his
desperation and his action, even if I don’t agree or approve his methods… I guess
I admired him, that passion, that something I have never had. I only have that
feeling, that instinct of survival ant the desire to protect those I love,
besides that I have nothing but that emptiness…
He looked him in the eye and caressed his
cheek, scrapping dry blood and thoughts away.
- I do understand that. – he said with
tenderness in his voice. *– Is yours the curse of understanding?
- I couldn’t think of a better curse for me.
They both chuckled, sharing crooked smiles.*
Silence fell. None of them dared to do
something more than try to feel the warm of their hands together, they didn’t
even kiss. They were too numb to feel, to push away the emptiness after the
massacre, blood and desperation, to keep pushing to survive.
- And what now?
He looked at him, not afraid to show him his
naked, raw fears.
- We go somewhere I don’t have to be a moral
hero.
- You will never be mine. – the other said,
only seriousness in his deep voice.
Then he jumped into him, hugging him close.
- Thank you, thank you, thank you… - he breathed in his neck, over and over again.
Honest, small and grateful words sank into
loving ears.
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