相手のない喧嘩はできない
aite no nai kenka wa dekinai
“You can’t fight without an opponent.”
~Japanese proverb
Kit
They expect me to go back to normal. To just let Bannik work alongside Tarek and me at the bar.
The nightmares are gone.
I can finally sleep like a normal human because I’m slowly becoming exactly that. Even the scars on my back are starting to fade. I’m sure I’ll find a gray hair any day now.
I work.
And I work.
And I work some more.
I moved in with Tarek because I wanted to be at the bar, just in case. That’s my new mantra, just in case he survives. Just in case he comes back, even though I know that according to Bannik, it could be weeks, years and that while he’s down there, it isn’t just normal reality.
To the love of my life, the one who went to fix what most could never undo. He’s all-powerful, but in chains, he can only sit there and bargain with what he has, and what does he have? One eye left? My bead? What can he possibly sacrifice?
Bannik tells me not to worry, but I can sense his anxiety. It doesn’t help that he has the worst temper of any immortal I’ve ever met in my entire life. God forbid you send back french fries.
We’ve gotten so many complaints and yet so many compliments on hiring such a handsome staff. Timber’s working less since he and Kyra are trying for kids and I do mean aggressively trying, So it’s just me, Bannik, and Tarek.
Ugh, the Three Musketeers.
At night, Bannik stays late and asks to watch TV.
Ethan, Alex, Cassius, and Mason stop by constantly to make sure I’m still alive, and it’s not because they’re worried about my sadness. No, it’s because I have a fallen angel sitting on my couch yelling at Simon Cowell to press the golden buzzer, and again, they see his sudden anger, but I think it’s because he’s also carrying the weight of my sadness on his shoulders. He is my star, after all.
But his inability to stay silent during reality tv is the least of my worries.
Every night, when I go out onto the terrace with a blanket, I find a cup of hot chocolate, a cookie, and a telescope.
Tonight is the same, only this time Bannik’s out there. He doesn’t need a blanket like I do. He’s wearing his uniform, black T-shirt and jeans, but tonight his hair is different.
“You cut it?” I almost reach for it but pull my hand back. It falls to his shoulders in soft waves of brown and inky red. We’ve gotten closer in the last three months, almost like siblings that don’t talk about all the giant elephants in our shared room.
He shrugs. “We all need change in life.” He’s clearly uncomfortable. He’s not out of a timeline like Horus was, but he feels unworthy to breathe now that Sariel saved him from The Abyss. Now that he has a job and is both mortal and immortal again, he feels like he doesn’t deserve.
"Says the guy who wanted to bring the world into chaos.” I elbow him trying to get him out of his stupor.
We can at least joke about it now a bit.
He doesn’t rage anymore, but he does get sad. I think he needs to talk about it. I know he does, actually. Just like I need to talk about Horus to make sure he still exists.
I watch the stars every night with Bannik, and every night the fox runs to the god.
“Dumb fox,” Bannik whispers.
“Dumber god,” I say right back as we click our mugs together.
He leans back in his chair, grabbing his own mug of hot chocolate. “Every being is capable of mistakes, but I wonder what makes us deserving.” His smile is sad. “I can’t hear the songs of the stars anymore. My brothers can, but I was stuck in the Abyss, so I hear… silence.”
“What did they say? What did they used to sing?” I ask.
Bannik closes his eyes, and the sound that comes from his mouth is nothing short of heavenly. “Watch. Shine. Breathe. Mine. Ours, the heavenliness wait for you, we wait, oh we wait, dear guardian, blessed by the Creator, we shine down on your face, feel our shine, and when you think of turning away, know you were always meant to stand in that line, to look up, watch us shine.” He stops singing. “That was just one verse of thousands.”
"They do shine.” I reach for his hand. “Very prettily.”
"That they do.” He squeezes my hand and releases it. “Any news?”
My stomach sinks. “Cassius says he’s trying, but we only have silence.”
“Silence,” Bannik repeats, “is not always the worst. I think I would take silence to noise any day. Noise means chaos, silence means peace.” He tilts his head as if thinking, then shrugs. “To some people, I guess.”
"Peace,” I repeat the word. “I’m going to trust in the peace.”
A star shoots across the sky. Slowly, Bannik sets down his hot chocolate and raises both hands to the sky, palms up. “Rest. Rest and shine.”
"What just happened?” I ask as Bannik’s fingertips glisten with stardust.
He doesn’t look at me; he looks up toward the sky and smiles. “A star chose.”
“Chose what?”
"To fall.” He nods. “As they do. It is always their choice, the journey they want to take, and this one saw theirs.”
“How do we know the journey?”
"We don’t. We only trust that the end makes it worth it.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s that time.”
"I know.” He sits.
"Tell me.” I grab my little purple notebook and open it up, resting my pen against the worn paper. “How many years?”
"As of right now. Horus has been in the Abyss… over a hundred and twenty-seven years, three months, one day, seventeen minutes, four seconds.”
I write it down and tuck it close to my heart, then I watch the stars until I fall asleep.
I don’t have to ask who brings me to bed; it’s always the one that watches me.
It’s always Bannik.
What was once a curse became a savior.
A fallen star left by the sky itself.