ENTRY 5900122
And I can't make you out
~°°~
His first impression of her was the messy peeling of an orange. Thoroughly annoyed, he offered to peel it for her and albeit reluctant, the stranger agreed and he opened it cleanly, its midsection perfectly even.
He even took out the veins and separated each section in quick and precise movement.
"Thank you," she said, anxious and Boreas just nodded, not thinking of exchanging words with someone who couldn't even peel an orange properly.
~°°~
Eris hadn't looked at him for days now. Boreas couldn't remember why but he knew enough to not ask nor to try to regain his memories.
He had spent sleepwalking in his days, trudging on with his mind blank, his feet cold and skin hollowed. It made him wonder about the marvel of the mind and the logic of emotions. How could one miss something they didn't even remember? Yearned something they didn't even know?
When Boreas stepped into the Dining Hall for today's breakfast, his nostrils picked up the scent of burnt pies and his legs drifted to their usual spot in a habit. Muscle memory. He froze when he saw a lone figure already sitting there and so instead, he walked away aimlessly, finding himself standing in front of Krowan Huine.
The boy with scars hummed in acknowledgement, dabbing away the grease in his mouth with his shirt as he scooted away to give him space. Boreas sat down and ate.
The dreams had lessened considerably and finally disappeared yesterday's night. He has been sleeping so well nowadays. In that regard, he had no regrets. He was shockingly pleased to know that he didn't lose all his memories. That he knew about the demons atleast but not the dead. It was an odd feeling, to know he could handle the truth but not the loss.
His thoughts were loudly interrupted by a booming holler as a bunch of delinquent looking people crowded over, high fiving Krowan. Right. He forgot that Krowan was a popular kid with lots of friends.
He expected them to sit down, to be squished to death in his seat, suffocated in elbows, sweat and terribly long bangs that weren't cut evenly but instead, they waved farewells soon enough, almost sheepish, as if apologizing for disturbing.
Boreas had never taken note of it until now, but he had never seen Krowan eat with someone nor talked to someone with the easiness of a permanent friend. He'd plan pranks with you perhaps, joke with you but he doesn't stay. He'd linger and know your name only, almost like a laughing shadow.
Krowan, while looking like someone who'd grin as he made fun of everything and arm wrestle a chair with a fervor of someone who thinks they'd live pass through everything, was someone who kept everyone at arm's length.
Krowan, who's talking to him right now. "Oi!"
Boreas jolted awake, his back straightened. "Pardon?"
Krowan'a face turned to face him, tilted. The scars on his face looked more striking under the light of the chandeliers. "You ain't eating bro. It's been days. Unless you want to die earlier than expected you should eat up."
Boreas blinked. "Is it okay to just talk about this right now? In the open?" He whispered, in low tones.
Krowan snorted in amusement. "Well, yeah. Duh. The others are sitting far anyways. Plus, as long as you're eating and sleeping well and stuff, and you aren't trying to escape, it's okay." He patted Boreas' back with his—to Boreas' immense disgust and displeasure— greasy fingers then grabbed more of the food and stuffed them in his mouth.
"These are like the best fucking things I had put in my mouth. I may have questions in their morality but these," he raised those chicken wing with pure adoration in his face as if witnessing the coming of Christ. "These are worth dying for."
It didn't take long for his plate to be emptied, almost as fast as he filled it with food. Then, he bade a quick wave then left almost as fast as he ate, high-fiving some people on the way.
Boreas looked in the distance and ate in silence once again.
And so, the world simply continued.
~°°~
He lied. He can't handle shit. I've seen him suddenly sit up on his bed with mad fervor. Sometimes he'd stand for hours and sometimes, he'd lay back down. There were times that his roommates would awaken and he'd say, "I'm just getting water," then, leave in haste.
He'd puke the golden liquid out in the bathroom.
Sometimes he'd go to the Walls in the cool night, sitting in the deep rooted grass alone, contemplating whether to go through the fence and touch the Being.
Then, every time, he'd stand and leave with grass blades still between his fingers. He'd sleep with them, with his clothes muddied and dirty, and wake up, go through the day once again then repeat.
"You should stop puking them out if you want them to work," a tentative voice said one afternoon, just after class, breaking out Boreas' monotonous routine for a change.
Boreas turned around, his notes and books tucked under his shoulder, half expecting Krowan Huine's insipid face. What he didn't expect was Professor Jhlor sitting on the desk, their fingers laced together.
Boreas felt tensions rising up in his shoulders.
"Sit down, boy," they jerked their head beckoning Boreas on a chair. As if sensing his hesitance, they continued. "I'm not here to hurt you or anything of sorts. Don't worry," they chuckled, "the last thing I want is your intestines."
"Must have been a funnier joke in your head," Boreas said evenly after a moment of silence, still not sitting or moving nearer. "Still, I would have laughed if it weren't for the fact that you guys had attempted to erase all of my memories almost every day."
The Professor's ears went slightly pink, pinching their nose almost in a berating way. "It was decided that it would have been better that way," they replied diplomatically. "But I will try my best to say otherwise. I understand that this isn't exactly the most comfortable situation for you—"
Boreas snorted. "Quite the understatement of the century. Just leave me alone."
"I'm afraid we can't do that."
Dulled blue eyes hardened and glared. "Well, it's pretty much established that you guys can't really do much."
Sighing, the professor finally stood."ID 14.547—"
"Boreas. It's Boreas," he interrupted.
"Boreas," Professor Jhlor paused. The hardened gaze softened as they repeated. "Boreas," they said carefully. "No one had ever escaped ever since this thing was built. Did you think that you kids are the only ones who tried to escape with the hardest they can? Did you think that we're just not smart enough or just didn't try hard enough?" The look on his face had darkened, tone brittle and bitter.
"I, and countless people, have been in your position. Heed my words, boy." Their voice was a warning as they continued. "That thing you saw isn't the last of its kind. Our world is ruled by the whims of greater beings. Trust me when I say that this place is the best chance of happiness you'd ever have in life." Professor Jhlor slowly gathered their books, steeling their gaze towards the boy. "You're a good kid. I doubt you'd ever be or even want to be an Elderstire so just die peacefully. You have a few months left. Try to live."
Everything had been worthless in the end.
So that night when he slipped on the darkness, Boreas finally jumped over the fence. He had wondered what it felt like, if it's painful, if it's peaceful.
~°°~
Really, he didn't think they'd see each other again. After all, what young Boreas wanted at that time was to win that fucking quiz bee.
Which was postponed because two buffoons made a functional airplane made out of ballpens and flew it all over the place.
Really, the way they all met was unforg—
~°°~
"Don't, my dude."
When he turned around, Krowan Huine stood on the other side of the fence with his cane, wearing his oversized star pajamas. His voice gruff, touched by sleep. "Let go, Boreas. You said you would, didn't you?"
Boreas didn't respond, turned to the vast mass of cement that moved ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable—breathing.
"Get back to sleep, Boreas." Krowan's voice softened, almost unrecognizable without its rough, gruffy undertones.
"Stop ordering me around," Boreas snapped, gritting his teeth. "I have spent days with a bunch of you all telling me what to do, to give up, to stop, to keep this charade—that maintaining this fucking purgatory was the best way." His chest heaved and his eyes flashed as he turned around, hands gripping the wires of the fence. "Now that I did give up, you tell me don't? I'm not some dog."
The silence stretched out as the night's chilly breeze seeped into his skin, sending goosebumps. When Krowan spoke, he'd been quiet and faint. "I never meant for everything to end in this way," he murmured, taking a step backwards. "Fine. I'll leave you alone. I won't stop you anymore, dude. But, you should atleast write something to Eris."
Boreas' nostrils flared and furious again, trembling with it, tension rising on his shoulders. "You have no right to—"
"Do I?" Krowan questioned darkly. "Because I really don't fancy telling the news to a dude that already hates me. Gods," he fumed, hand gripping his cane, whitening at the tightness. "Wake up, Boreas. You're all alone." It was cruel but it was true and Boreas stiffened like a strung up wire. "There's no need to do some twisted atonement to someone who isn't even here anymore. It wasn't even your fault—"
"But it feels like it is," he said, lips trembling. "I don't even remember. But it feels like I've been so wrong in my entire life. I wish I—I wish things were different."
Krowan shrugged and held his hands up, chuckling snidely. "Dude, we can stand here for days and talk of things we could have done differently. We can think of alternative universes where we get everything we want." His voice dropped to low octaves and his hand traced the lines of scars in his arms. "But, there's no alternative universes—no goddesses that'll give second chances. This is it. And we'll have to try and make it count."
"How? How will I make it count? There's nothing in here." Blue eyes gazed at the endless vast of cement that closed out the sky. Boreas wet his lips. "If I don't touch it, then what?"
"Well, you'll have to climb back here, of course."
"Of course." Boreas rolled his eyes but his lips formed a small slant.
"Then," Krowan continued. "I'd steal the Principal's television and tapes. We can watch old movies, play games. If you'd want, we can steal Professor Noirin's beer stash. We can check out your bucket list if you have one. It probably isn't what you envisioned and maybe it's not enough but it's something, right?"
"What's in it for you?"
"Being an Elderstire isn't exactly my style. Can you imagine me being a Professor, policing students?" Krowan shook his head at the idea of it. "I guess I just don't want to die alone." He jerked his scarred head, facing Boreas directly as he asked meekly. "Well?"
~°°~
Six year old Boreas Poitraz sat down petulantly in solitary confinement along with those two weirdos.
"I think someone owes us an apology," murmured the lanky brunette, viciously biting a nail, no longer that shy girl who couldn't open an orange. Her companion didn't seem to be as mad, even smiling unhinged at an empty space. Although to be fair, they did get their head hit atleast three times.
"Are you implying that it's me who's at fault here?" Boreas cried out. "You guys were in the way."
She rolled her eyes. "We had it under control. You jumped in like some lunatic."
"Why are you all so mad?" the crazed weirdo asked as they held their arms to the shoulders of the two arguing kids and squeezed. "We zooming like crazy earlier. Zoom, boom."
Boreas blinked flabbergasted and threw a questi ning gaze at the bru ette.
"They're a g od test subject!" she def nded. "Draws great too and i spired me to m ke the a rplane ba lpen!"
"Yes!" they no ded and made a motor dr ving gesture. Then th y said n nchalantly, "I can't bel eve we saw P fe sor H lica and that smelly nurse k ssing in th clos t."
B une te cackled. " id you s e th ir faces?" S e p ck red er l ps a d made a k ssy f ce.
"Ugh, why did you have to remind me," Boreas g um led, c awing o t his ey s.
"I t ought he p offe ors are a l sl my li tl v rgins." er yes lo k d mis lign d.
Boreas wan ed o ask bout t, b t w en he op n d his m uth to spe k a d ff rent q st on as ask d. " f on ?"
"A e y i a ." H r eyes ad f llen o f. H r f ce di app ar ng. And B r s w nted t scre m. B t, in te d w at c me o t of h s mo th was t is:
"I Boreas Poitraz." .
W en s e turned a ound, her face h d c mp te turn d blank, c sc d b t e v id.
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~°°~
In total, it took only seven days for Lethe Walth to be erased from his memories.
~°°~
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