You managed to pin the blame on me, yet again. Congratulations.

Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Current Date: March 31, 2058

Character: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human – Meta – Telepathy
Age: 96, physically about 26
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
 

---

Managing to overcome the bitter beast has been a struggle. A struggle that has been happening for more than a year at this point and there have been days when Faustus is so exhausted from that battle that all he wants to do is sleep. Those days are rare, and he hates them with a passion but progress comes at a price; something he’s learned along the way.

The first step was the hardest. Deciding which of the head docs that he would speak to—if speaking happened at all, to begin with, but Faustus knew that he couldn’t keep to his mind-voice forever. Though it was useful, he still only ever spoke to Zion and he knew he couldn’t keep on living his life this way. There are days when the bitter beast compared him to a wild animal and it smarted. Their past aside, Faust was no animal, and even less so a wild one.

Lucky was the one who made the most sense. There was a sort of connection of gifts between them and on the days when Faustus couldn’t find the spoken words for what he needed to utter, he could turn to the mental ones and with Lucky, the potential of memory walks, even if possibly somewhat dangerous, could happen.

Each session he went to was with Zion, he couldn’t fathom going on his own. The ability to begin to form words wouldn’t even find him, he was certain of this. With Zion at his side, it is easier and yet, on certain subjects, it is inevitably harder. This is where the bitter beast shows itself most often and it usually is on those days that when they return home, exhaustion claims him and yet, he only manages to sleep with Zion next to him.

The sessions happen once a month, just enough for a sort of routine for him to not get rusty with this familiarity he finds himself discovering with Lucky, but still with sessions far enough apart that they do not grate on him and render him even more bitter.

The beast is fighting a losing battle but there are days when Faust feels weak to its venom. He refuses to let it take hold; he refuses to let it blame him for things that have happened, things that were out of his control. He has spent enough time letting it blame him that he’s done with this part of his life.

This whole thing is far from done and, while on certain days he worries that Zion might think it is all too much, Faustus knows better. He knows that this is just the beast trying to find holes to crawl back into, holes that would lead it back to the places it has been exorcised from. There is no returning to the spots that have been cleansed.

On the mornings of the session, Faustus allows himself a little while longer in bed. Unless they need to get up to use the bathroom, he’ll wrap himself around Zion, his nose to whatever spot of skin is closest and he’ll close his eye, soaking in the familiarity of the man who keeps his sanity where it belongs. The man who keeps his heart beating a steady rhythm. The main reason why he’s taken the necessary steps to enter this particular battle.

Lucky has been patient with him so far as well, it helps. He never pushes for answers when it is clear that Faustus finds himself at a loss as to what words are supposed to come out at that point. It has been so many long years spent speaking with voiced words with no others than Zion that he still struggles but he knows he’s come a long way.

During the first session or two, he wouldn’t even look at the other man; he wouldn’t even look at what was near them, at what surrounded him. A scene of absolute peace. Only during the third or fourth session—something that he has a hard time recalling—did Faustus actually stop to take in the setting. A slight room, but with comfortable seating and walls as every house can have. Walls that can be modified through the computer to show whatever it is that might be desired.

One of the things Faustus does remember filling in before that first session was keywords on things that helped keep him calm. It took him forever, or so it felt, and Zion’s help to list a few things and, as it turned out, the room had been set up in such a way that it did help soothe his nerves. It wasn’t always enough, depending on the subject, but it helped and while he’s still not fully comfortable with going, he no longer struggles with the idea.

Little steps. Hard steps, but steps that will get him to his destination. It will just take a bit of time.

Final Word Count: 821

I keep telling you that ghosts were real. Now you can’t deny it anymore.

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Current Date: October 28, 2022

Character: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human
Age: 36
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
 

---

There is so much of my childhood that I don’t remember. I can’t say I’m really surprised by that fact but, at times, I wonder what things would be like if I did remember a little more. I can hardly turn to my brother for questions like these because of what happened to him just as the snow happened. He remembers even less than I do and it’s still hard to spend time with him though I know we both try. I don’t think that either one of us feels that familial connection as we should. From time in prison in my case, and due to the snow thing, in his. I know that I should feel sad about it, but I think I just feel a sort of slightly regretful disconnection about it.

In a way, I suppose we might both be closer to slight friends than brothers at this point, even if we are related by blood; I’ve made my peace with this and I’m fairly sure that he has, too.

That’s not to say that there is not the rare memory that we both seem to have about something that happened while we were younger. As he is some four years younger than me, the rare memory seems to span the eight-to-twelve or so year group for him, the twelve-to-sixteen on my end. They seem rarer on the upper end of that group and the most recent one we both seemed to somewhat remember was when he must have been nine at the most and by that calculation, I was possibly thirteen or so.

I know we weren’t home but neither one of us can honestly tell where we might have been in that memory. We just weren’t home, it was a semi-quiet spot, near a park or something with this old, dilapidated house not very far from us. It was somewhat dark outside, late afternoon I figure because it was very chilly and I do faintly remember that we couldn’t really be outside very late most of the time and at our age, it was doubly so true for him. So late afternoon makes sense.

He had such a wild imagination as a kid, that much I remember from things I recall when it comes to him. I feel a bit sad that this imagination seems to have been lost now. I wish it wasn’t but there’s not much that can be done about it, and I think that Doc Florence has already helped him so much with it all as it stands that it could have been worse.

In that memory, while we do remember it somewhat differently—a given, I think—we both recall that it was a house we possibly crossed often while on the way home. It was in that dilapidated state from the get-go, and that much, I think we both recall too. The way I do remember it, is that he’d often pause by that house and just sort of stare at it for a while before we headed home. On that particular day, he pointed to one of the windows and while I couldn’t see anything, he told me that ghosts were real; that he was always telling me they were real and now I couldn’t deny it anymore because I’d seen that thing in the window.

Except, I hadn’t seen anything, I hadn’t even really seen the ratty curtains moved but I know I didn’t tell him that, I kept it to myself. For some reason, I guess I wanted to just keep him believing, maybe because it just kept him occupied and thinking about something that wasn’t the house.

Trying to think about it now, but I’m not sure why that sticks with me. I barely remember home. Our parents, and the other siblings I know we had but I don’t remember at all. It’s one of those things that frustrates me, and I don’t even know why memory turned into such a holey block of Swiss cheese after my stay in prison. I know what trauma does to a person, but shouldn’t trauma mostly just cover what happened to cause it?

It’s just, I’m pretty sure there was nothing in my childhood or teen years that would have caused me to want to forget everything. I was just that one guy that was at the wrong place, at the wrong time and there’s not much else that we can do about it. It happened, as did the abuse. It did lead me to Zion though and I wouldn’t want to change that for the world. His patience with me is something that I still can’t wrap my mind around today and it was more than a decade ago. I owe him so much and there are days when I feel as though I don’t show him how I feel enough despite the fact that I know I do.

Final Word Count: 822

Wait a minute, back up. Someone like you has a mug shot?

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human
Age: 35
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
Final Word Count: 791 words
 

---

Certain words are triggers. You might do all you can to avoid them, but they’re so rarely spoken that you don’t even know they’re triggers before they do their ugly part in things, and you can feel yourself spiralling. I hadn’t had any issues in years, I’m not even sure why it truly happened other than, you know it did. One moment, I’m helping Zi with the bit of garden we have near the building, the next I come to, and I’m curled in a fetal position in our room. I don’t even remember anything that might have happened in between.

What I do faintly remember are the two men walking on by. They were possibly in our age group because I do faintly remember that they were talking about things that held meaning to the world before the snow. Things that the younger groups might not really know about. They possibly have been told all about it but from spending so much time listening to others talk, there’s a way to tell the difference between someone who has lived in the before and someone who was either too young to remember or was born after the fact.

These two men, from listening to them talk as they walked on by, had clearly been old enough to have had a life before the snow took hold and then changed our world.

It was a little later, when I’d settled down again, that we tried to figure out just what it was that had dropped me into that near-instantaneous panic attack. At least, without speaking any of the words out loud, we tried to figure out what it had been. Zi mentioned that they’d been talking about cops and misdemeanours, nothing that would have been considered a serious crime. I know I’m sensitive to a few subjects relating to prisons and it’s so rare to hear about any of them that I can’t imagine what word they could have used that sent me over.

Eventually, we managed to shorten the list down to something much more manageable and only a few words really stood out. One of them is about that photo the cops take when someone is arrested. It’s such a mild word that I don’t know that it should have triggered such a strong reaction in me but, you know, it’s one of those things that I don’t have any desire to test out.

There were a few other words in their discussion that Zi heard more than I did that could have led to everything but they’re on par with the one about that photo taken. I just don’t know. I feel like it had honestly been years since I’d had an attack this bad, and I hate it when they happen. Worrying Zi this way is one of the last things I ever do want to do because it feels unfair to him and to the few other people that are still around now that I know I can trust anymore.

I want to believe that I’m stronger than I was when they released me from those five years of hell. I want to believe that I’ve managed to make some progress with my life so as to not fully live in the past, even if that very past still has its claws clearly sunk deep in me in regard to a few different things. I know that it’s no way to live. Cowering away my entire life because of five years of hell isn’t a way to go about things. I don’t want to spend what’s left of my life being afraid of everything that’s out there. It’s just not right by any means.

Every day, I try a little harder. Every day, I face the world to the best of my ability and, every day, I want to believe that I’ve made at least some progress as to everything that surrounds me. I will never be outgoing. I will never truly be able to look anyone in the eye for more than a brief moment, but there are other things that I’ve managed to do that I feel like I’m allowed to be proud of.

I don’t really cower away. I still flinch when someone startles me, possibly more than I should, but I don’t spend my days just hiding away in the apartment, waiting for Zi to come back. As is, I don’t care to be away from him for too long, so I join him when we go outside. It’s good for me, I know. The steps I take may be very, very small steps, but they are steps that I am taking, and I feel as though this is the best I can do.

What have I told you about looking behind us? I promise there’s nothing interesting back there; we’ve already lived it. Now, we have to look forward.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human – Meta – Telepathy
Age: 94, physically about 26
Current residence: Atheria City, Eresiel
Final Word Count: 754 words
 

---

Dreams and night times are the only times when he isn’t with Zion. Though one could claim that he still is with his pair as they sleep close to one another but while in sleep, his mind is elsewhere and not focused on his current situation. Thus remains the statement that dreams and night-times, when sleep overcomes him, are the only things that do keep him away.

Most of the time, the memories of the dreams are fleeting. For the rare times that they are not, he makes a few notes down in the books he keeps by the bedside but looking at those notes, even just later on the same day, he can make no sense of them, and his memory fails to bring anything up.

That was, at least, until the most recent presence of a new dream that left him scratching his head, even once away. He knows its meaning and understands why it came to him but its source still has no sense of clarity. He has no idea why his mind would bring up this particular scene, seemingly more out of a book than anything else, to remind him to keep on looking forward.

Faustus knows that the bitter beast still with its teeth clamped tightly into him remains because he hasn’t been able to let it go properly. It is slowly eating away at him, but that eating is so slow that it likely would take an eternity before it was done with him, but it still is happening and, in a way, Faust believes that this is possibly why this particular dream came to him. He has no proof of it, but it remains that which makes the most sense. It is why he still can make some sense of it even after taking notes in his book; unlike every other dream before.

He was walking a long, quiet road—a common enough theme in his dreams from what the notes state—on this road, for the most part, he was alone, and he could feel that bitterness trying to climb its way out of his throat, but he refused to let it.

Eventually, at his side, a being whose features were unclear to him and even there, from the notes and what his memories claim, Faustus has no idea why they weren’t clear. It was almost as though his eyes could not focus on the face, as though it was blurry in a strange but natural way that could not be explained otherwise.

The voice that came from the stranger was low and soothing but there was a no-nonsense tone to it, as though it knew that he was the type that would possibly talk to act his way out of a situation since he still refused to talk to anyone but Zi. Even that, still, was uncommon. Mental words were just easier than vocally spoken ones.

The being at his side told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was time for him to stop looking behind them as he walked. There was nothing interesting back there and he knew that to be true. Behind him were things that he had already lived; things he couldn’t change and things that should no longer have any hold on him though he often let them.

At one point during the dream, his bitterness tried to surface—this he remembers most clearly—and the being at his side pushed it back behind them. It once more reminded him that looking back and behind them was futile, he had to look forward so as to live in the present and not the past.

At this point, Faust still believes that, just perhaps so, the being truly had come to him to try and get him to let go of the bitterness that still slowly is eating away at him and if that were the case, he couldn’t say no to it. He was tired of feeling the bitterness trying to come to the surface when he spent more than just a few moments away from Zi. It was no way to live his life, he knew that better than he dared to admit.

Letting their broken past rule over him is no way to live his life and he wants to live his life to the fullest with Zi at his side forevermore. Perhaps it really is time to try and overcome the beast. A battle he’s afraid of in ways that cannot be put into words.

I’ve found that I should be myself, unapologetically, and if people don’t like, they can go away.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human
Age: 34
Final Word Count: 723 words
 

---

There are a lot of brash people out there, in this world. It might just be a way of life, I’m not sure. My way of life includes keeping to myself, keeping my head mostly down and letting Zi deal with other people whenever I can. It might make me sound like a beaten dog to most people that might spare me a glance and, in a way, they wouldn’t be wrong.

My stay in prison was years upon years ago. It would feel like a lifetime ago to most people and it probably is, when I do rarely mention it—why mention it at all? It scarred me in ways I don’t think it should have. I know that there seem to be a few different schools of thought, as far as prisons were concerned. One of them being that all the stories must be exaggerated, that the guards were doing their jobs and all was well and fine. I’m sure that in most other prisons, all was well and fine and the guards were doing their jobs.

I wasn’t that lucky.

So between the bullying and other things I’d rather not talk about, I learned to keep my head down and keep to myself. I wish I could say that I can be myself unapologetically, but I don’t know what that is anymore. I can’t even tell people that if they don’t like my behaviour, they can go away. It’s surprising, when I look back. I’ve made it this far—with a lot of help, but I’ve made it this far.

I don’t know that I’m a fully functioning member of this society but I do give it my best and Zi’s presence at my side makes everything feel a little simpler than I know it potentially could be. It feels good to wake up next to him and to go to bed next to him at night, knowing that this is where I’m safest and where I truly belong.

I watch others from afar, some whose behaviour makes me wonder a little. That’s why I think that there still are a lot of brash, unapologetic people out there. They’ll do whatever they want, not a care in the world if they hurt someone as they act in whatever way. I can understand that this might just be the way they were raised, but it feels like there should be some sort of middle ground in there. People shouldn’t need to cower away from others—myself, for one, though it’s so second nature that I can’t help it—and others shouldn’t be acting like the world need to keep them on a pedestal.

Certainly, I can’t be the only person who sees that while most seem to be able to play nice together, there still are others in the two extremes that truly aren’t at home? Maybe I’m just thinking about it too much. I’ve been under the weather lately and Romuald’s presence has just been a thorn in my side but even that, I haven’t been able to duck away from and ignore. He’s all over the place, he shouts orders out to everyone and every time he raises his voice, I twitch a little because he possibly reminds me of someone I had to share a cell with.

I don’t know that anyone still in the prison where I spent those five years of my life has survived. At least not the ones that still were inside the walls. I highly doubt that the guards took any pity on the inmates. They probably all fled as soon as the snow really started falling down and the inmates got stuck in their cells, no food or anything else and they possibly all died there, it wouldn’t surprise me.

That’s the kind of people the guards were. The kind of inhumane conditions I had to deal with during those five years. Wrongfully accused and yet, that’s that. There’s no changing the past, no matter how badly I might want to. I wouldn’t have met Zi if I hadn’t spent those years locked away. He wouldn’t be part of my life and I feel as though I need him with me to be able to breathe so I’ll take my sad, pathetic story and I’ll stick with it for the time being.

Act surprised all you want, but we both know I’m a true genius when it comes to things like this.

 
Timeline/World: Through the Looking Glass – Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human – Meta – Telepathy
Age: 93, physically about 26
Final Word Count: 702 words
 

---

There are dreams. In the dreams, he often finds himself with someone whose face he knows he should remember but he doesn’t. It should bother him but it doesn’t. The dream is usually always the same and he forgets it easily enough when he wakes. A few moments are all it takes for the dream to fade. At least, usually, that’s all it takes.

The thing, as it looks like a man but sounds nothing like one, tends to speak to him in riddles most of the time. It is the one thing that remains with him longer than a few moments when he wakes. This last time, however, it hadn’t.

All he recalls, beyond the looks and sounds of the thing, was that it was gloating, this time around. It was going on and on about how it was a genius when it came to things like ‘this’ and it was that ‘this’, that baffled Faust. He didn’t even know what the thing was talking about. He supposed he might have looked or acted surprised but not by the words it spoke to him, no; it truly was that he had no idea what the subject of the gloating truly was; it just didn’t make sense.

As he’d woken, Faust could feel the dream lingering. It remained with him longer than the others and it gave him time to make mental notes as well as physical ones. There is a book by the bedside and while it is rare that he uses it, now and again, there just is a reason and that odd dream was one of those reasons. He noted down only a few short sentences and closed the book, intent on forgetting.

Now, as he looks at the book again, what he wrote fails to bring back the look of the thing in his dream. As though it erased itself from his mind. The sentences state the body that was manlike, the face that felt familiar but held no familiarity. They spoke of the voice that felt more like grinding teeth and nails on a chalkboard than anything manlike to match the looks. They made mention of the gloating, the general vague subject but that is all there is to it.

Closing the book and leaving it behind, Faust tells himself that trying to recall something like this seems pointless. If the dream needed to be remembered, it likely would have made more of an impression on him, he figures and now that he has the words on the paper and they do not even bring up a single mental image attached to what the visual of the dream was like, he could almost remove the pages and things would be no different.

Something stops him, however. A feeling, perhaps. Something tells him that notes should be taken, should the dream come to him again and remains long enough for him to take further notes. Perhaps—it seems far-fetched—but perhaps the more he writes, the more a story of sorts will unfold.

It was how his mind worked when they were separated. Everything was in pieces; it came to him in fractured bits and lost items. He couldn’t put the whole picture together unless he wrote it all down and then tried to decipher what his mind had tried to bring to the surface but had been too fragmented to give to him over a single instance. This is something he’s gotten over. Something he’s made himself accept as part of his make.

With Zion at his side, his thoughts come smoothly though not always. Faust knows that a small part of him remains fragmented; nothing will ever truly fix it though as years pass, the piece seems to be getting just barely smaller and smaller. Perhaps, one day, a century from now, he will be able to believe himself truly and properly fixed.

Not that it matters. So long as he has Zi at his side, Faustus knows that his world will be fine. It may end without warning but he will have lived the most of his life with the one man who means more than his own life to him, in the long run.

It’s living proof that we won’t always get what we deserve.

 
Timeline/World: Atheria – 1st Generation
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human – Meta – Telepathy
Age: 93, physically about 26
Final Word Count: 630 words
 

---

There remains bitterness in his heart that may never leave, a bitterness that has settled roots deeply into his very being and only being with Zion soothes that bitterness and keeps it dormant. When they were forced apart, when he couldn’t reach out, when he couldn’t find, Faustus allowed that bitter beast to take hold of him and it likely would have devoured him whole had things remained as they were.

Still, he knows that the beast—a fitting imagery for that bitterness—has taken a large bite out of him and when he spends too long away from his pair, it tries to surface. Knowing that their souls are connected until the end of everything helps to keep the beast dormant but even that seems to not always be enough. It truly has to be Zion at his side and Faustus knows that it is a weakness that could be used against him but it doesn’t matter, not really.

After they had found his pair and brought him home, justice had been served but he knows that not all who had even just the barest of connections to the whole sordid ordeal were taken care of. That alone reminds him that people do not always get what they deserve, as he knows that these people deserved little more than death. Though, just the same, he knows that he cannot be judge, jury and executioner, though the idea is tempting.

Eventually, as the world came to its end due to the foolishness of humanity, he knows that they did meet their end and their lives were extinguished but it feels as though it was something that took far too long to happen. Dealing with people like these is always best done when the trouble they’ve caused is still fresh. Those who say revenge is a dish best served cold are wrong—at least, as far as he’s concerned.

It is these particular thoughts that always make him pause. These thoughts that make him realize that their forced time apart has changed him and trying to change back is near impossible. Only Zi can remove the darkness from him.

His life, his thoughts, his everything always centres on the man he loves more than life itself. It took them time to be able to find a comfortable connection once more, it took time before they could open up to one another and even once that happened, it wasn’t instantaneous. Their lives didn’t miraculously get better, they didn’t forget the hell that had been and moved on. It took time, it took patience and willingness and love, so much love but just the same, as much patience as it did love.

Looking back now, Faust knows that there were no other ways. Their healing took time but that was how it was meant to be. While most wounds—depending on the person—can now be healed within moments though they rarely take that road unless it is a life and death situation, he knows that emotional and mental wounds are different. Physical issues can be fixed so easily in their world but anything relating to the mind is something else entirely and their time apart had shattered something fragile that took time to piece back together.

That’s how he sees it. They were two pieces of the same item, shattered almost beyond anything but they worked it through. All that remains are the scars and the beast and he figures that is only because there is still a small piece of him missing. A piece that may very well never be found but Zi’s presence covers that missing fragment, so all is as well as it might ever be and his daily life goes on in blissful contentment, so long as they’re together.

Do I get a choice?

 
Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human
Age: 32
Final Word Count: 613 words
 

---

There are two sentences I heard again and again in prison, I think they remained printed deeply in my mind and even now, these sentences trigger a sort of something in me that makes me feel the need to step away, to keep more than just a healthy distance away from the people uttering these sentences. One more than the other but both have left their marks on me.

It was rare that one came without the other and usually in the same order.

The most common occurrence of these statements came when one inmate was moments away from being bullied by another, to put it in rather simple terms that might leave me enough wiggle room that I might be able to sleep tonight for not directly imagining the bullying happening. I have witnessed it too often and I’ve been on the receiving end as well. I’d rather not remember.

‘Do I get a choice?’ was the first. Though it usually was either ‘get’ a choice or ‘have’ a choice. Both lent themselves to the same answer by the inmates doing the bullying: ‘no’. On the rare off chance that ‘yes’ was the answer, the offered options were no better and the bullying usually much worse as a result.

The second statement, usually on the heels of the first, though usually murmured by other inmates who had been close enough to hear the exchange, was: ‘famous last words’. Usually with some snickering going on and far too amused looks.

Most of us who were on the receiving end of the bullying learned rather quickly that it was best to keep our mouths shut. At least, I know I certainly did. Only twice did I make the mistake of asking the question about whether or not I had a choice in the final say and after that, I learned to keep my mouth shut and to just endure.

The thing they say about survival of the fittest isn’t always about being the fastest one, the strongest one, or even the smartest one. At times, the survival, in this case, is about learning when it’s safe to say anything at all and when you’re just better off being a silent statue and enduring that which the others see fit to throw your way.

Don’t get on my case about getting the guards involved. I made that mistake too. I’m sure that in some other prisons, the guards aren’t all out to enjoy the little shows they could get, but in the place I was stuck in, the guards were more likely to push you into the lion’s den than try to help you out of it. I learned that the hard way too and I only made that particular mistake once.

My stay in prison has changed me. There’s no denying that. Without Zi at my side, I know I wouldn’t have changed as much as I have. I would still be a shell of my former self if I still were alive at all. I have no doubt that I wouldn’t have survived the snow without him and, as likely as I know it to be, I wouldn’t even have survived the first few months out of prison without him at my side.

He’s changed me, he still changes me, little by little, day after day and I cherish these changes in a way that I can’t put into words, not easily and I don’t think it would be right to try and put them into words, as is. So let me cherish these changes. Let me cherish the fact that I am alive, that this is a new world, a new start.

I’m terrible at making friends.

Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human
Age: 32
Final Word Count: 532 words

---

It might have been years but my behaviour is not one that will change. No amount of time drifting by will change the abuse I’ve suffered at the hands of the other inmates. The only person I am still comfortable being close to is the only one who can touch me without earning a shudder of discomfort. Zion knows when best to approach me and when best to leave me alone though the latter is rare enough, at least when it is only the two of us together somewhere.

Once the snow had melted, being a productive member of society was a seriously difficult task for me. It had been a difficult enough task for me before—taking care of the books had kept me occupied and I’d helped where others lacked—but doing so now was even more complex. There were no real jobs that didn’t require me to be around others and it just wasn’t something I was comfortable with. My loner behaviour wasn’t going to change and I couldn’t change it.

Forcing me to talk to a psychologist or a psychiatrist wasn’t going to help either. I had been forced to check in with one after I’d been released from prison, after my name had been cleared, and those visits had done me no good. I’m not looking to be outgoing, I’m not looking to make more friends, I’m not even really looking to be seen as a productive member of society unless it’s in the eyes of someone who matters to me.

Zion matters to me, Cade matters to me though since the snow, he’s been a little different and we’d lost touch while I was behind bars. The people he’s befriended… well I’m not trying to be harsh when I say they don’t matter to me but in a way, they don’t. I don’t mind if they think I’m asocial, I am. They can say anything they want about me and I’m not going to argue their point. Now, if they’re hurt or if they need help, I will do my best to help them but that might just be the limits of my caring as far as they are concerned.

I don’t know how to let the world know that it shouldn’t expect anything from me. I’m doing the best I can with my skill set and my ability to only handle so many people in my personal bubble, let alone close enough to touch me or breathe the same air as me. I am this way. I am broken. I cannot be fixed. This isn’t a physical issue that can be made ‘all better’ by applying a band-aid, it just isn’t.

Those who accept me as I am, know of my limits and know not to push them, it will not do any good and I won’t work any harder. I’m more likely to turn away and never come back. It seems complex, it does, but it isn’t. It’s as simple as one, two, three. It is something everyone should honestly be able to respect. Keep your distance, ask before touching and respect my answers, no matter that you think you might know better. You don’t.

It’s easier to stay quiet. I have less of a chance to fumble my words.

Timeline/World: Atheria 1st Generation
Characters: Faustus Slunce
Race: Human – Meta – Telepathy
Age: 91, physically about 26
Final Word Count: 541 words

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The use of mental words had always been easiest for him, simplest. To the one soul he was set to spending the rest of all eternity with, he kept those mental words as a sweet caress, the gentle touch of a lover, almost always seeking the hint of permission to really be spoken into that mind.

Faust couldn’t remember last he’d opened his mouth to speak. Sure, he opened his mouth for plenty of other things. Kissing, exploring Zion’s body, eating. The first two of these three particular items really were his favourites. Then again, anything involving Zion is cherished to the very end of the universe and then back again, his one and only, is the only reason he still draws breath, in the end. Figuratively and semi-literally.

The big break away had broken him. He’d fallen into an ugly tunnel of darkness where there just was no way it. It had been Zi’s presence at his side, his energy pattern, his very essence that had pulled him back to the surface; that had drawn him away from the darkness and into the waiting arms of love and near desperation. He hadn’t let go for quite a while following that particular day, always needing a constant touch, even if all that touch was, was the linking of two fingers together.

Once the desperate need for touch had faded somewhat, he’d been able to handle short whiles without a direct physical link, still, being within his line of sight was preferable. He knew they had both been weakened through the time apart but none of it had been their fault and while it took time for their strength to build back up, it did.

There is not a single day that goes by where Faust does not find a moment to cherish his one just utterly. Be it through the simple process of cuddling up closer, pressing his nose to that neck and merely inhaling the scent that is so familiar to him, or when he decides to go the longer route while either preparing a full breakfast for both of them or merely letting them go hungry a little while longer while he physically reminds the both of them of the bond that brings them pleasure beyond compare.

Spoken words are rare, they are uncomfortable to him. There are whispered notes now and again but they are for Zi’s ears only. He is the only one who has heard anything verbally spoken out of Faustus since the return. It is simpler that way.

On some days, even mental words are sparse, better kept for meaningful moments though he never fails to let his companion know of the three most important words they have ever shared, those words that are at the foundation of their very being, the words that keep him waking up and getting out of bed every single morning. The words that are on the edge of his brain as he settles in for sleep, nestled close and personal, almost too much so, some would say but that is how he finds most of his comfort and Zion has yet to really complain.

Those three little words are so simple and yet so important.

I love you.