Until The Sky Swallows us I will Love You | Night Four - Mundanity

 We found some old tea bags in our cupboards. God knows how long they’ve been there. They don’t look like tea bags, though. But Michael tells me they are.
‘Want one, Isaac?’ He asks me, holding my hand. I don’t think there’s many times he isn’t.
‘Yeah. Yeah.’ I respond, my memory failing me and making me repeat myself. He doesn’t comment. He knows.
Watching intently as Michael begins to boil the kettle, I think on how we have electricity now. How our taps work. How anything here functions. Maybe it’s the same thing that’s keeping us around. Not quite alive, but nowhere near dead. We don’t actually need to drink, but sometimes it’s nice to. Reminds us we’re still breathing.

He puts the tea bags in a pair of mugs, then once the kettle finishes boiling he pours the steaming water into them. He accidentally spills some on his hand but he doesn’t even flinch. There’s no sugar or milk, so once they’re done we drink them black. We sit on our sofa. We sit in silence.

There’s a question brewing in Michael’s mind. I can just tell, from the way he stares at his tea, drinking it slowly, no worry for how it burns his throat. Maybe he doesn’t feel it. Maybe his own warmth is just that strong. I can barely hold my own mug as it burns into my palms, but I hold it regardless.

I look at him, not caring for how it feels like it’s blinding me. He knows. He always knows. And he asks,
‘Isaac… have you ever thought about.. leaving?’
He, for once, refuses to look me in the eyes. His light feels so much dimmer when he’s not looking at me.
But I have to think… is he crazy? Leaving?
‘No… never. Never.’
I respond, my memory failing me yet again as I repeat my words. He takes note of it, as he stares down at his knees. For once, he’s not holding me. “Michael sighs. He expected this answer. He knew what I’d say, but he asked anyway.
‘But, Isaac… doesn’t it feel too perfect here? Like… it wants us here.’
It… the eyes that watch us. Do they want our comfort? Do they envy his clarity? He wants me to question this. But he knows I won’t.
‘I don’t think so. I don’t think-‘
I begin, stopping myself from repeating the same sentence.
‘They want pain, right? That’s what you told me.’
Michael’s expression changes, his eyebrows furrowing. He’s annoyed. Not at me, but at the fog.
‘Yeah, but- that can’t be it. I know it’s hard for you but… just try and think… this isn’t right.’
He pleads with me, but all I’m thinking about is how my mug burns my skin.”

I stare at him. It’s the way he always stares at me. But he won’t look.
‘Michael…’
I wrap my free hand around his.
‘What do you want to find out there…?’
He shivers at my touch, and he flinches at my question. He didn’t know I was going to ask that. He, instead of answering, mutters,
‘You’re cold…’
I sigh, looking away and responding in a hushed tone,
‘You’re warm.’
The conversation ends. We sit in silence again.

Michael eventually looks back at me, a softer look in his eyes.
‘We have 1984, right? The book.’
Such a mundane question, compared to our usual conversations.
‘Yes. I think so.’
I let go of his hand and put down my mug, searching through our old bookshelf. I pull out the book in question and give it to him.
‘It’s… so much like what’s happened, isn’t it? Constant surveillance…’
His voice is shaking. I know he’s seen something out there.

After a moment, I pry the now lukewarm tea from his hand, and I place it on our coffee table. Sitting next to him, I wrap my arms around him. He shivers, but he presses his head to my chest and lets out a shaky sigh. He knows what I want to ask.
‘I saw… a kid, only 10. He’d gotten lost. And… this thing…’
He nuzzled impossibly closer to me, and I held him, my breath icy on his boiling skin. He shivered like I was freezing him.
‘I know… I know…’
I mutter back. And we sit there. Because how are you supposed to answer that?

 

Authors notes:

1. Not much to say for this one. It's the most directly plot heavy part and probably the one I enjoyed writing the most. It's also probably the most consistant to the other parts, too.
   
2. One thing, though, Isaac not thinking the teabags look like teabags was originally a callback to Martin (The Magnus Archives) making tea, and it not being tea. It is to do with his memory issues, though.