Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Never let me go


For my ship of the moment. And for Yellowleaf, who might have to wait a while for her prince epic.

 

The last note of the song hangs in the air and Jharal leans his head on Justin's shoulder.

"The first time I told you I loved you, you thought you had a concussion," he says and hears Justin chuckle, "I've loved you always."

He knows he can finally mean it, that it's the truth. He could say it a hundred times and it would never mean any less.

---

Looking out from underneath,
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me,
As before I went under.

---

He's not really aware of anything until there is music. Filtering in through the haze of his mind. The sweet notes of a piano slowly drawing him out of himself. He listens. This is new. There has never been music here before.  He sits up gingerly. The tiles of the floor are cold under his feet.  The music continues and he stands up reluctantly, hand gripping the bed railing for support. It has been a while since he stood up voluntarily.  But the music calls him and he has to find it.

He takes a step forward and is immensely relieved when he doesn't fall. And takes another step. He makes it to the door and leans against the frame, breathless. He knows he wasn't like this before. Before the accident. His parents don't talk about it. Or about his previous life much when they visit. But he knows for certain that he'd never needed help walking ten steps. He misses it. At least he thinks he misses it. He isn't sure that it is possible to miss something he cannot remember. But if he can't remember it, does it mean he was never that person? That he's brand new now? A new start, as his father puts it. But he doesn't want this. Doesn't want anything anymore. Much easier to simply fade.

The music calls him back again. And he makes his way to the main living room. The music is so much clearer now. He knows it's coming from here. The clear notes of the piano that has sat silent in the living room all this time. He doesn't go in, instead he leans against the wall and slides slowly down to the ground. It is beautiful. This is the first time he'd thought anything as beautiful for a long time. He smiles and closes his eyes. The music carries him. But not away. Because he's already away. But it carries him closer, he can feel, to the person he was before.

---

The piano player comes every day. He follows the music every single time. Sometimes he falls asleep and wakes up in his bed. And sometimes the music ends and he sits there, and listens to the piano player talking to the caretakers.  He has a beautiful voice, the piano player.  He's never seen him though. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to scare him away.
The music is helping him. He knows this. He pays more attention to things now. He’s doing better in rehab. Talks to the doctor with more than one syllable. It is tearing him away from his apathy.

---

There is no music. He squeezes his eyes shut and listens. Still nothing. Where is the piano player?  He makes his way to the living room, hesitating at the threshold because he's never come in here before, not when it's time for music. He peers in to the room and sees the piano. But there's no one there. He ignores his reflection in the mirror on the wall. He doesn't want to see, just a pile of skin and bones. He slowly makes his way to the piano, hand trailing gently over the faded wood. He hears someone enter the room and turns. It's the piano player. He knows it's true even if he's never seen him in his life. He knows it's him. The piano player is looking at him with surprised eyes.

"I missed..." he begins and pauses, unsure what to say, "there was no music," he says in the end.

The surprise on the piano player's face fades in to a gentle sadness.

"I'm sorry," he says, sitting down at the piano, "I was delayed."

The piano player looks up at him, fingers poised over the keys. His eyes are a dark brown, beautiful, like his voice, like his music.

"What would you like me play?"

"Memories," he says and the piano player looks devastated for a moment before he looks down at his piano.

"Memories," the piano player whispers and begins to play.

He makes his way to the couch and lies down on it. He falls asleep. He wants to dream of home. But sees the sad eyes of the piano player instead.

---

And it's peaceful in the deep,
Either way, you cannot breathe,
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under.

---

He remembers his childhood. His parents, his brothers and sisters. He remembers school. They tell him he played for the Broncos. They tell him he was brilliant. He doesn't remember it. Doesn't remember the game when he collided with the goal post so hard, it cracked his skull and he nearly died. He lost his memory instead and now he feels like a loose thread waiting for memories he may never regain to bring him back to reality.
His parents have been wary about exposing him to his life with the Broncos. He's seen a few photos of himself in the maroon and gold that did nothing for his memories. He remembers there were few guys that came to visit him when he had first gotten here. But he didn't know them. Doesn't remember. He thinks there was someone at the hospital at the start but his memories of that time is so hazy he might be imagining it all. But he remembers someone crying. At least he thinks so. He wonders who that was. Who loved him enough to cry for him. It breaks his heart because he'll never know now. Even if he meets that person, he still wouldn't know. He wonders if he had a girlfriend. No. Wait. Not a girlfriend. The person he is now, as frayed and incomplete as he is, knows he's gay. But was he before? Would that change with his memories too? He doesn't know. And there hasn't been anyone so maybe he was single when the accident happened.

He can't play rugby again. Another hit like that will kill him for sure. He doesn't even know if he'd be any good at it now. Maybe he lost it with his memories too. He doesn't know what he can do. Doesn't know what he's good at. His parents don't want him to worry about that. He knows they're well off enough to support him. They tell him that he also made enough money during his playing days to last him a long while if he's careful. But if he's serious about this whole new start thing, he can't just sit at home and do nothing. If he's discovered anything about himself in these few months is that being idle is not his way. But the doctor tells him he'll get help for that. Integrate back in to normal society step by step. All these things are so new. Things he refused to even think about until the piano player woke him up. He was happy to fade away before the music came in to his life.
The piano player. Ever since that day when they accidently met, he lies on the couch and listens to him play. The music carries him and there are times when he feels so close to something, to his past maybe, just out of reach, waiting for him. The piano player watches him with sad eyes sometimes, when he thinks he is not looking. He wonders what has made him so sad. He knows if it was up to him, those eyes would never be unhappy.

---

"I lost something," the piano player says, looking up at the sky with his hands folded under his head, "the most precious thing in the world and I might never get it back."

So that's why his eyes are so sad.

"Can I help?"

The piano player looks at him with a small smile.

"You already are."

---

He sits by the piano player and watches him play, long fingers flowing over the keys. They're sitting so close together that their shoulders are touching. He closes his eyes and breathes, the piano player's warmth seeping in to his skin.  He is happy today. This is the happiest he's been since he woke up. And he knows why. The reason is next to him, warm and solid and he might have forgotten a lot but he knows what this is, knows why.
His piano player.  He wonders if he'd felt this before. Ever sat next to someone and knew that all he needed to be happy was this one person.  He doesn't know. He hopes he did. All he has is now. Quite literally. He has nothing to fall back on.
He opens his eyes when he realises the music had stopped. He turns to find the piano player's eyes fixed on him, a small smile on his face.

"Jharal?"

He leans forward and kisses him. But if he's going to embrace this, his new life, then he cannot be afraid.

---

They walk in from the garden and find his parents in the hall. The piano player tenses beside him and he threads their fingers together. He can make his parents understand. Even if he's forgotten half his life, he's old enough to make his own decisions.

"What are you doing here?" his father spits before he can say anything, eyes flickering between the piano player's face and their linked hands.

"I'm where I belong," the piano player says in a hard voice he's never heard before.

His father's face twists.

"We told you to stay away! Stay away from our son!"

He blinks and looks at the piano player.

"You knew me before?" he asks in a quiet voice.

The piano player's eyes are gentle when they turn to him.

"Yes."

"You didn't say anything," he steps back, letting go of the piano player's hand, who makes as if to reach out but let's his hand fall.

He doesn't remember.

"I didn't want… I knew you couldn't remember me so I ...please, Jharal," the piano player's eyes are swimming with tears, voice heavy with it.
A memory flashes across his mind. Someone crying at the hospital. Crying for him.

"You," he searches the piano player's face, trying so hard to find something familiar because he can't bear the thought that he'd forgotten this man, "you were at the hospital."

The tears fall.

"Yes."

"That's enough. We are not going through this," his father steps closer, "we won't have you corrupting our son again!"

Again.

He takes another step back, eyes fixed on the piano player's face.

"Who was I to you?" he asks.

"Everything."

---

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,
And all this devotion was rushing out of me,
And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,
The arms of the ocean deliver me.

---

The first time Jharal tells Justin that he loves him, it's after Justin takes a hit to the head on the field. He gets the green light from the trainers and slowly walks back to his position on the left wing. Jharal meets him half way, worried eyes searching his'.

"I'm okay," he says as the teams get ready to resume play.

"I love you," Jharal says, almost abruptly. The ball is kicked and the game starts. Justin looks at Jharal in surprise.

"What?"

Jharal shakes his head with a laugh.

"I said," the trainers are yelling at them to move, "that I love you," Jharal yells out as they slowly run towards where the ball is being played.

Justin thinks he might have a concussion.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asks before joining Petero in a tackle.  He gets up and immediately makes his way back to Jharal.

"I think I might have a concussion but I think you said that you loved me," he says, ignoring the game again.

Jharal shoves at him playfully.

"I'm not gonna say it again, you idiot!"

Justin grins.

"Just once more, please! I want to hear you say it."

The trainers are yelling again. Justin doesn't care. Jharal smiles.

"I love you."


---

Justin smiles to himself as he plays.  Jharal is sitting next to him at the piano, eyes closed, lost to the world in the music. This is their tradition, every night before a game. A home game at least. Not so easy to travel with a giant piano interstate.  He would play whatever comes to his head or whatever Jharal wants to hear and Jharal would sit next to him, warm and solid and making Justin happier than he'd been in a long time.  The last note hangs in the air as the song comes to an end. Jharal is smiling before his eyes open.

"That was beautiful," Jharal says, catching Justin's lips with his own, "I think it's my favourite so far."

Justin smiles in to the kiss.

"It's called Memories," he whispers against Jharal's lips.

"Mmm," Jharal murmurs, leaning back slightly, "it's beautiful."

"It's yours then," Justin kisses him again, "Your song."

"Mine."

---

Justin blinks. Mind not registering what he'd just seen. What he is seeing. It cannot be Jharal lying on the ground unmoving. Can't be his blood that Justin can see seeping on the ground. Cannot be his own horror and fear that is freezing his heart.

No. He can't believe it.

Except  that it is. It is Jharal on the ground unconscious. It is Jharal that they're carrying off on a stretcher to the ambulance. He doesn't remember the rest of the game. Doesn't know how he manages to stay on the ground. But he does. And Alex drives him to the hospital immediately afterwards.
Jharal's parents are already there. He ignores their hard eyes and whispers. They've  already fought this battle. And he won. The nurses tell him Jharal is in emergency surgery.
He knows serious injuries aren't uncommon in the league. It might take a few months or even a year but Jharal will be fine in the end. This can't hold him back. Justin would make sure of it.

Memory loss. The doctors tell him they don't know how extensive the damage is. Or how long it will last. Justin reaches for Jharal's hand but Jharal draws it back and Justin doesn't know how to fight this. There is no plan. Jharal doesn't know him, doesn't love him. In a space of a few hours, Justin has lost the one thing that makes his life worth living.

---
 Justin runs. Unable to face up to the fact that the person he loves most in the world has no clue who he is. And Jharal's family likes it fine that he's gone. Being strict Mormons, they never approved of Justin. And with Jharal's memory loss, they see no reason for Justin to be in Jharal's life anymore. For a while, even he can't see a reason for him to be in Jharal's life.
But he can't stay away. Jharal draws him like a moth to fire and even if it destroys him to see the blankness in Jharal's eyes, he can't leave him. Can't leave him on his own. Jharal always hated being on his own. And even if he was in a room full of people, he would feel alone until they find each other.
So he visits Jharal at the recovery centre everyday and tries his best to bring him some peace, even if it breaks his heart every single time.

---

Justin can see him in the mirror. Sitting on the floor, head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. His hair is only just starting to grow back and it makes him smile because he remembers when that head had been covered with dark hair. Remembers the first time he'd run his fingers through the dark hair and the look in Jharal's eyes. It had been after their first kiss. Justin's heart had been filled with joy and wonder and a shock of realisation that he loved this man. That he was in love. Jharal had smiled and claimed him. Even if Jharal couldn't remember him now, Justin belonged here.

---

He finds Jharal alseep against the wall. His heart fills with longing. He looks up when a caretaker comes along.

"Can I?" Justin asks.

"I'm sorry, it's against policy," the caretaker says and lifts Jharal up in to his arms.

Justin clenches his fists and smiles through gritted teeth.


---

Jharal waits for him at the piano everyday and Justin can't help but feel some hope when Jharal smiles at him. Even if Jharal might never remember what they had, maybe they could start again.

---


"We were together...before," Jharal says and it's not a question. He knows the truth by the pain in Justin's eyes.

"Yes."

"I don't...I can't remember."

"I know." Justin looks at him and Jharal can see the force his words have on him.

"You came back for me even when you knew I couldn't remember you."

"I couldn't leave you. You always hated being on your own." Justin smiles and Jharal can tell he's remembering  all the times they've been together.  He wishes he could.

"I still do."

He threads their fingers together and looks up at Justin.

"Can we start again? I don't know if my memory will come back but I don't want to wait for it. I guess I've fallen in love with you twice."

There are tears in Justin's eyes but he's smiling.

"I'd like that," Justin says and kisses him.

Jharal kisses him back and it feels as right as breathing.

---

In the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold,
And all this devotion I never knew at all,
And the crashes are Heaven, for a sinner released,
And the arms of the ocean,
Deliver me.

The end.

Notes: The song that features throughout the story is Never let me go by Florence and the Machine. The song that Justin plays, Memories, is by Clint Mansell featured in the Moon soundtrack.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A thousand words


Written for the photo prompt challenge between myself and Yellowleaf. Don't actually know whether it's going ahead or not but after seeing this photo I couldn't help but write. 
Warning: Major character death.



They say a photo is worth a thousand words. Maybe it is. But a photo never tells the whole story. It can't tell you what happened before. Or what happens after. It is but a single moment frozen in time, perfectly preserved but incomplete. James was crying that day. The wallabies were training and he was crying, surrounded by all his team mates. But that is not the beginning of his story. Just a piece of it.

--

James's story begins, for the purpose of this story when he first meets Quade. Quade is brilliant and James soon comes to a point when Quade has to be in his life every day for James to classify that day as a good one. Their friends figure things out way before they do. When the first 'boyfriend' comment comes, he laughs it off. But the hints keep on coming and he shoves Kurtly in to a wall one day in retaliation. It makes him think though. About why he reacted that way. He's about to run out to the ground on one game day when it hits. He turns to Kurtly, who is behind him, eyes wide with the force of the epiphany.

"Oh."

Kurtly understands. He always had. And he smiles.

"About bloody time."

He flies up to Queensland the next day, practically runs up to Quade's door and then freezes. He doesn't know what he should say. Nightmare scenarios where Quade punches him in the face keep flashing through his mind. Quade opens the door before James can knock.

"Hi," Quade says with a smile.

"I…" He throws caution to the wind and kisses Quade on the lips. Now that he knows how he feels, there's nothing else he can do. Quade will find out, if not now, then later. Might as well be now.  He feels slightly better about things when Quade cups the back of his head with a gentle hand and kisses him back.

James draws back a little, eyes roaming over Quade's face to memorise it in this moment. Their first kiss.

"I love you," he bursts out. Quade smiles and James is mesmerised by the colour of his eyes. So very green.

"About time you figured it out, Jem."

James blinks.

"What?"

Quade kisses him, drawing him closer.

"I've been in love with you for a long time," Quade says, "I was starting to think maybe I should give up."

"I'm glad you didn't," James smiles.

That was their first weekend together. The first of many. The first of many until the day of that photograph.

They're in New Zealand for a test against the All Blacks.  Quade breaks up with him two days before the game.

James thinks he's joking at first. But then Quade chooses to room with Digby and James realises he's serious. Then he's hurt. He doesn't understand. All Quade said was 'We're not good for each other' and that doesn't make any sense at all. He tries. Tries to talk to Quade, to make him explain why. Why the tears in his eyes if they're no good for each other? But Quade doesn't talk to him and James lets the hurt turn in to anger.  If Quade doesn't want him, then fine. James can play that game.

But that morning, in the freezing rain, James realises what it means. He'd imagined they'd be together always and as fanciful as it sounds, he wanted them to grow old together. Because ever since he met Quade, James could not imagine his life without him. But it seems Quade does not want the same thing, even if James had been so sure that he did. All of his dreams had turned to dust in the space of two days and it hurt. So much. His tears mix with the rain as he stands amidst his friends and tries to gather his broken heart.

Quade pulls out of the game. Out of guilt or because he doesn't want to play alongside him, James doesn't know. And he doesn't care. Quade flies back home on the morning of the test. 

They lose.

The next time he sees Quade it's two months later and because Kurtly had planned it all. 'You have to talk to each other' he insists when James realises what he'd done.  Quade has lost so much weight that all James can do is to stare, forgetting that the man infront of him is supposed to mean nothing to him. Quade takes one look at him and leaves, obviously Kurtly had lied to him too.

James stares after Quade, frozen before turning to Kurtly.

"Tell me what's going on," he says and it's not a question.

---

Quade actually staggers back when James hits him. He's angry but James knows he didn't hit him that hard. And he immediately reaches out, grabbing Quade's arm to steady him, anger replaced by concern.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks in a voice much milder than he expected.

Quade looks at him.

"Who told you?"

James lets go of Quade and takes a step back, folding his arms across his chest.

"Answer the question."

Quade closes his eyes, takes a step back to lean against the wall behind him and sighs.

"I didn't want you to be hurt if," he looks up, "things went badly."

"So you left me to spare me the pain of losing you?" he asks with as much sarcasm as he could manage, which is not much.

Quade actually smiles.

"I guess when you put it like that, it doesn't make much sense."

"No, it doesn't, you absolute moron," James takes step forward, as close to he can get to Quade without touching him, "do you think it would hurt me less to know that you went through all this on your own? That I wasn't there when you needed me the most?"

He knows there are tears in his eyes now, he can feel them threatening and he wipes at his eyes angrily, "why would you think that?"

Quade reaches out to touch his face, a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry", Quade kisses him softly on the lips, "James, I'm sorry."

---

Even if he runs, he knows he'll never make it. But he tries anyway. He runs and runs and runs. Until his chest is burning and there is no air in his lungs. He arrives at Quade's door and rushes in without catching his breath. Everyone looks up when he enters the bedroom and he takes a shaky breath. Quade is lying on the bed, his eyes closed and James feels his heart burn to dust in a beat. He is too late. He moves to the side of the bed, Digby getting up and moving away without a word. James drops on to the bed. He is in tears and about to crumble when Quade opens his eyes.

"James?" he whispers and James clasps his hand in reply.

"I'm here. I'm here."

Quade smiles, green eyes finally fixing on him.

"You're late."

James lifts Quade's hand to his lips.

"I'm sorry."

"No," Quade says, "no…"

James presses his face to Quade's hand.

"Please," his tears are wet on Quade's skin, "please, Quade."

"I love you," Quade's fingers are fleeting on James's skin, "I've always loved you."

James leans down and kisses Quade.

"You're my miracle," Quade smiles at him.

"What will I do without you? How can I…?" he's shaking and Quade's fingers tighten around his'.

"Be amazing like you've always been," Quade closes his eyes, breathing quickening. James holds his breath. He's more scared now than he'd ever been in his whole life. And this is the last time.

"Wait for me," he says, almost bursting with the need to reach Quade and Quade's eyes open an inch, "I'll find you."

Quade smiles, bright and beautiful and just like James remembers. Then his hand goes limp in his' and the smile fades and James leans his head on Quade's chest and lets go.

---

But that's not the end of James's story. His story goes on. Although he doesn't think of it as a story anymore. Just words and sentences trying to rearrange themselves in to something meaningful. He'd erase the whole thing if he could. Rip the pages apart and burn them. But he won't. Because as much as it hurts, he can never regret Quade, never forget.

He doesn't talk about it. Not even to his friends that had been there at the end, who had let James grieve in peace, who had made sure he ate, slept and lived. They had formed a circle around him at the funeral, shielding him from curious eyes as he watched the man he loved disappear forever in to the earth.

It is just a photograph. And this is the story woven around it. It is a lifetime and everything that it encompasses. It is James. And it's Quade. And it's their story. Caught in a moment of time. 


The end.