#fridayclassroom

[fridayclassroom]

#0 the place we couldn’t return to

The cold air filled the moonless night like water would a glass. It makes everything so clear but vague still; every single sound so loud but makes no sense. He took each step blindly, anchoring them as the weight he dragged came forth with him.

He wanted to get there soon.

Although it was dark, he was moving with such faith that only came from the frequencies of going up that hill many times before. It felt like home. All those years of being away couldn’t let him astray from the memories of maneuvering through the greens and shades of the secluded hill with crickets chorusing the same song for decades. Regret was when he couldn’t feel the same freedom it gave him back then. Maybe it’s the different purpose this trip ensued.

A sudden tug on his left arm stopped him and he let go of the burden he was dragging, realizing that he had held his breath throughout most of the journey.  The muffled sound made him smile and faced the velvet sky to catch his breath. Raking back his hair, a rustic stench flared his senses from his hand. He looked at his palm; thick wet scarlet barely black in the darkness.

So, it was blood, he thought. It wasn’t just perspiration from the labor of  hiking all the way up into the thickets of that hill. When did that happen? At Tsukasa’s? Or was it before he went there? He couldn’t recall.

"We're almost there. Don't worry," he assured, and the brown sack he was dragging moved as if in agreement to his assurance. He took another deep breath, so tempted to stop and rest but can't. Resuming his long journey to that place he kept remembering.

Why are you doing this?

“Why are you asking a question you have answers to?” he admonished under his breath. The hollow pain in his chest gripped harder and erased his smile. All those time wasted, being so near yet so far, had brought him to a certain illusion that he could try and concede one more time. That he should try to not fight what people want of him at least once more. And let them dictate a meaningful resolution to end their misery from their constant haunting over what he did wrong. All for the relentless hope of holding onto at least a memory of her in his heart.

“You shouldn’t stop thinking that people give you the answers you need. They’re giving you the answers they want you to take. That's all,”

You are right, Ken…they don't care, he replayed. It seemed like yesterday that his childhood friend was saying that while they were slaving away their summer break from college at their hometown's temple. While it was his chore by default, Ken was just tagging along cause he looked ‘lonely’ cleaning around the temple on his own.  How did that become a decade old history? What changed between them that he couldn’t say a word when he called that unruly man’s home number the minute he was free? Maybe the mistaken belief that Ken was cutting him off when in reality, his bestfriend just simply died. And no one had the decency to tell him about it.

The moon decided to peek from behind the clouds. He was glad as he resumed his mission uphill.

The walk seemed like it'd go forever until he saw feathers of scarlet in bits and pieces on the grassy ground. He smothered a chuckle when he recognized what it was, picking up his pace despite the inertia added by the struggling man in the sack. They were entering the clearing up that hill of that small god-forsaken town. He was finally back there again. It felt like a dream. Renewed energy changed his pace and scenery, and before he realized it, he was running. He stopped at the clearing’s entry, the end point of the trail that narrowed from the wild  mountain azaleas blooming in reckless abandon.

Opening the sack, he pulled it down revealing the gasping man within it. The ringing in his ear made his heavy head hurt a little more than he’d preferred.

久しぶりですね、お兄さん。。。

“It’s been a long time, Oniisan,” he smiled. His brother looked up at him, frowning, not from the pain of rough administrations. His bleary eyes unfocused, trying to make out the person standing in front of him.  

“Chinatsu,”

His smile widened and he felt his unusually protruding canines making itself visible.

"Are you well?" he asked, feeling conversation hit the wall before it even left his lips. Tsukasa stared at him like he would a stranger and he didn't blame him.

"I'm sorry that I have to take you all the way out here. But I think this may be the best place...to talk," he clarified, pulling out the cold steel that had been resting in the pocket of his jacket.  

Tsukasa just stared at the gun in Chinatsu's hand, not really surprised. One can only take so much suffering.

It had been too long since the last time he saw him. The last time they saw each other, Chinatsu looked more confused and hurt. Now, he can no longer tell. Not to say that he didn't know. Because he knew why both of them were there. Unraveling the rope that bound his wrists, letting him compose himself...Tsukasa understood. They could no longer catch up for all the lost time.

"I know," he confided before Chinatsu uttered a single word.

I know you didn't do it

I know I should have come for you

I know you hate me

I know you want to kill me

But no words came out. It was a long wait, deliberating with his own justification of why he did what he did. Even if he could turn back time, he doubted that any attempt he made to change the course of events that led to this will make any difference.

Chinatsu got down in front of him, levelling their similar heights so they could see eye to eye. He smiled again, the redness enveloping them seemed to have sworn to secrecy. It was beautiful. Their resilient blooms rampaged the otherwise open clearing. So hidden away, it'll be days before anyone could find them if they tried. "I know that you do," he affirmed, making sure that Tsukasa could see what he was referring to.  

"Why didn't you fix it?"

How do you tell your brother that nothing is what it seemed? That it wasn't his fault and it was just something they can't change and nor can he. Tsukasa pondered, tasting the rustic blood in his mouth; a consolation that at the very least, Chinatsu had given him a punch or two. Maybe they should've been more honest with each other or he could've trusted Chinatsu more. Replaying all the possible ways of how things could have been different made him more and more unsure of himself.

"I don't know,"

A chuckle escaped him.  

"I was hoping that you could try and be honest with me just this once. But you can't."

Chinatsu pressed the gun to Tsukasa's temple and the man did not flinch. He can't help but to smile again; Tsukasa had always been the brave one. He was his older brother after all. Which made it hurt more

"You left me there and let them believe it was me." He got closer so that he could smell the nostalgic scent of pine on Tsukasa. "You let them believe it was me," he rasped, pressing it harder into Tsukasa's head, hating how unaffected Tsukasa was. Why was he looking at him like he truly was sorry.

"And you took her away from me too,"  

"I'm sorry,"

"Stop saying you're sorry!" he barked, stabbing the nozzle of the threatening weapon on Tsukasa's chest. His ear rang again, triggering the pain through his ear straight to his brain. It hurts so much that he caught himself from falling by standing up; not once wavering from the target he pinned on his brother's chest.

"We both know it 's too little too late" he laughed. His left arm extended, holding onto the tremors held within his shaking muscles. How miserable it was to hold that infinitesimal pain of being betrayed that way. They have no idea the monster they created inside him when he finally stopped trying to prove that he was innocent. Suddenly, he looked into the mirror and saw that he had changed, morphing into something he can no longer recognize, all along holding some semblance of hope that he will come back to her. That all will become just a hazy nightmare once he sees her safe and sound somewhere. It didn't have to be him in that picture of hope. Just her and her smile alone.

The gun clicked and Tsukasa stayed put.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Chinatsu aimed at the left side of his chest, imagining the bullet cleanly piercing through his body. It would be liberating. For him and for Tsukasa. Since they both can't leave the prison they've made for themselves, this may be the only way out of it.

The breeze breathed through the leaves and blossoms, stirring each petal and emptying the silence between them. He saw the branches beckoned and the azaleas firmly bent along with the wind, not fighting and just holding  on till they broke off from their own weight. Just falling and landing onto the ground. Brilliantly scarlet still.

So graceful and gentle. On the bed of her own kind, a flower descended. Not changing its color like it promised to be happy forever.

You should always keep finding things to be grateful for. Because you're never without one and sometimes it takes two to not be lonely.  

Yes. It takes two to not be lonely anymore, he agreed.

You can't pretend to not feel pain when you're hurt. That angle isn't going to work for you. Or me. Or anyone, for that matter. But that's why it's beautiful, you know. When you are still kind even when you're in pain.  

A mirth of laughter escaped him. Her voice forever imprinted in his heart. And he can't let go. That's his problem.

Yep, that's our problem. We think too much.

A shot rang into the sky. For a moment, there was true silence.

He closed his eyes and he breathed in the scent of the forest and the mountain so that every part of it was committed to memory. Like the flowers falling and landing where they should be, he shrugged it off. The fog in his eyes was not clearing still but the exit never was more obvious. Turning away, he retraced his steps there. The pain beats still but hurts less.

The end. That was it.

I'm good, Anna...I'm good now.