For I'm so scared of losing you
And I don't know what I can do about it, about it
So tell me how long love before you go
And leave me here on my own, I know it
I don't want to know who I am without you
If I'm running out of time, then I'm running out of time
There's nothing you can do, to try to pull me through
Could tie me down with twine, give me back what's mine
I wouldn't want you to, try to pull me through
You are forced to succumb to your power because your friends are in danger. You know that the only way to save them is to be what you've been fighting against the past few years. In order to save them, you do just this. When you regain consciousness, you realize that you not only took down your enemies, but also a few of your loved ones that you were trying to save. What do you do? How do you feel in that moment?
“…okay.
I am no closer to giving in today than I was yesterday.I’m never gonna be better than what I exactly am. So I know, as much as I love my friends, I can’t stay with them forever. I’m stupid but not that stupid. I know my place. They are better off without me.
To answer your question, when it comes to that… it doesn’t matter how I would feel. I just know that I’d have to go. And hopefully, they won’t find me.”
The way his face fell at her look of disapproval made her heart clench and melt at the same time. Why was she so angry about it? Surely she knew that Bernard wasn’t just this man who kept to himself in his hut in the forest. He was human, he had urges. Which sometimes were harder for him to control as compared to ‘regular’ humans. Shaking her head, her gaze moves towards the ground. “No, no. It’s… fine. I’m stressed. Matt’s looking after Nathalie and Jeremiah and my little girl is looking at me with this look of disappointment and she’s still a little baby. I can’t help but feel she hates me already and…” Waving her hand int he air, she moves towards him and hugs him tightly. “You’re going to make a fucking amazing father. … A father who will teach his kid to not curse like his aunt and her kids who’s words consist of ‘fuck’ and ‘bitch’.” Shrugging her shoulders, she lets out a light chuckle. “… What happened? The mother? Is she gone? And Bernard… your my best friend. Things like this, I should know. I want to know. I want to be there for you.”
“She doesn’t hate you.” Bernard says quite decisively. “She may not understand you, but that’s not hatred. Don’t worry about it too much, Gen.” He missed her hugs. He missed her scent. He missed her in general. The last ten months has been stressful for him too... The whole thing was a painful reminder that how badly messed up he had. And the weight on his shoulders is just too much, to be responsible of someone’s life when he can’t even take care of himself. Then there was taking care of MJ, as in raising a baby. But as always, Bernard masks them well. “It’s okay to be stressed. If you need me sometimes, I’m always here.” He allows himself to make a weak chuckle tinted with a sigh. “I have no idea how to do this, Gen. What if he...” He swallows the words that almost slipped out. Truth is that he fears if MJ has gotten the same gene as him. “Um, sort of. She is... she didn’t want to be, um, involved.” He scratches the back of his ear, pretending to be okay. “I know, I just... you have your family now, Gen.” He presses his lips together. "They are more important than me.”
Her cheeks puff out a bit as the two of them start to pace around the room. Part of her wanted to just walk out, shut the door, and enter back in with hopes that it was all part of her imagination. Bernard was her best friend in the entire world and she even knew that he wasn’t ready to have a kid. Yet here he was. With a kid. “Hi, MJ.” Moving over towards Bernard, she plucks the kid from his arms and holds MJ close to her. “You can just call me Gen. Amazing Gen is appropriate too. Close to your ears. I’m going to scream and curse at your… father? Your father here.” Turning her attention towards Bernard, she frowns at him for a few seconds before sighing. “How?”
Bernard tilts his head to the side. He wonders if he was too strict about the language. But he doesn’t want his son to be exposed to the bad things. It’s already bad that MJ was born as his child, and that he was gonna have to live without a mother. That is why he has decided to stay in the woods. It’s safer here. He smiles as she holds MJ, until she gives him a frown. “...um.” Well, he was hoping that topic wouldn’t come up. “Well, it’s a long story...” Murmuring, he gets up from the seat and takes MJ from her. He goes over to the other room where the crib is. Then he comes back, scratching his head. “And you were busy with Jerry... so.” He hunches his shoulders looking apologetic. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
She notice the flinch. She always noticed the flinch and most of the time she’d apologize and attempt to clean up her words around Bernard and integrate it into her daily life. Normally it lasted about three hours until she gave up. “Well, fu— err. Bernie, what the hell?!”
MJ starts to fidget on his laps. Bernard picks his son up and paces around the room. “H-word is a bad word too!” He points out then notices what was wrong. “Oh, right. Gen, this is MJ. MJ, say hi to Aunt Gen.”
To this day, it still impressed her whenever Bernard was able figure she was there before she even enters. It causes a smile to spread across her lips. “Bernie, I haven’t seen you in foreee–.” Cutting herself off as she looks around, her brows furrow together in confusion. “What the – What the fuck?”
“Hey, Ge--” He visibly flinches with the f-bomb. “Gen! Language!” He covers the ears of his son. He gives her a disapproving look which only lasts for few seconds.
Bernard calls her out before she even enters the door. Sitting on the wooden chair with MJ, he greets her with his usual smile. “I didn’t know you were coming-- ugh, sorry, place’s a mess.”
Dead and blunt sound echoed inside the dimly lit room, repeatedly, rhythmically. Two in the morning, birds had gone back to their nests to rest their exhausted wings. The dawn was far, but sleep didn't come to everyone. Bernard clenched his fists, threw punches at the training panel. It was designed to withstand damages he could do. The silver surface reflected feeble lights, then scattered away with every hit.
"That mutt," they called him behind his back. Bernard dwelt upon that word. Mutt. He didn't think it was much of a pretty word, or a nice one. It was the way it sounded when he repeated it... But he shrugged it off soon enough. Words are intangible. They resonate but fade away. He guessed it didn't matter what they call him anyway.
Bernard kept his breathing steady. In and out, his lungs took in air then let go, his heart pumped and his muscles prepared for the next move. From the stance to the fist, momentum traveled concisely. The weight in every punch was inhumane in unhinged manner.
"He's not even a real person." He supposed they were right. He was well aware of his nature. A real person doesn't have problems controlling his urges. A real person doesn't need pills to push back his hunger.
Beads of sweat hung on his chin, then dropped when he threw another punch. Some nights he just got worked up. He couldn't sleep. This was his outlet. This or running until it finally exhausted him out. Then he could get few hours of rest. At some point, it had turned into some kind of a ritual to him. He found certain serenity in driving himself to the limit, clearing his mind and erasing himself in simplicity. Simple, he could do. Life was too complicated sometimes.
"Don't you ever get angry?" asked his friends. It didn't take genius to read the concern on their faces when they asked him.
He was getting caught up, short of breath. His arms were getting tired, begging for oxygen. But the slower his punches, the more forceful they became. As if he was squeezing, raking every bit of energy inside him. He took a breath, braced himself for one last hit.
He smiled, then shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, maybe? I just never thought myself as an angry man."
The panel flickered. It reflected the pale light of the room. It reflected his face.
No, that's a lie, he thought to himself when he answered.
In that split second, Bernard could glimpse into his eyes. They told him the eyes are the window to his soul. If that was true, well, his soul was twisted and tainted as it can be. He only found hatred and anger in his eyes before he broke the panel. His fist smashed through the screen, tearing a hole. Shards and pieces cut through his skin.
"Jesus," Bernard muttered biting his lips, slightly taken aback by the mess he just made. He drew back his fist. It started to bleed. A painful, disgruntled groan escaped him. The scent of blood was quick to make him dizzy. The strong urge haunted him again-- he wanted to lick it. He wanted to taste it. Badly.
"Stop it." whispered him, clenching his injured fist tightly. He hurried over to the near bathroom. He carefully took out shards stuck on the knuckle. Then he turned on cold water, let it run on his bloody hand. He hissed quietly, watching the dark blood running down the drain. Once it became relatively clean, Bernard took a towel and wrapped it roughly around the wounds.
Bernard finally exhaled. He felt like he was burned up, nauseated but at the same time somewhat dazed. He leaned forward on the drain, retching. After a moment to collect himself, he washed his face using the other hand. It woke him up, cleared his mind. When he looked up, however, he met the eyes of himself again. Colorless sets were frowning with disgust.
I'm the angriest person I know.
Of course he was angry. He just hid it well, but underneath of his clumsy acts, there was tranquil anger burning in white. But it was only directed inward. He was angry mostly at himself. It was the kind of hatred that can't be described as 'looking into a mirror and not liking what he sees'. He couldn't even look himself in a mirror because he felt an urge to punch the reflection. His smile was made of lies. His words refused to speak the truth. He acted like he was harmless when he knew how he can be, what he can be, all because he was so clingy and thirst of love which he didn't deserve. He didn't belong here. If he was closer to the man he was supposed to be, if he truly cared for those who around him, he should have left and never looked back. He should have stayed in the woods. He wouldn't say he was better off dead for he knew it would make them sad, for the grief he would wrongfully bring upon the others. He shouldn't have born in the first place. Then his parents wouldn't have gone through the ordeal of raising him as a son. Mrs. Schultz and those who he had killed, they would have been alive. His friends wouldn't have been bothered by him. They could have given their love to someone worthy. He doubtlessly believed that the world would have been a better place without him. He wanted to fade away, to be forgotten and not to be remembered. The existence itself was too much of blessing for the abomination.
Bernard looked away from the mirror. He closed the door and turned off the light. The darkness was overwhelming but also comforting. It was the only place he felt like he was supposed to be, like he could stop pretending to be a person, like he could just erase himself. He leaned back on the door. He sank down to the floor, pulling his knees closer to the chest. He stared at the empty space with the colorblind eyes.
He closed himself off from the world, just until the morning, so that he could continue to pretend like everything was fine.
"He has scars from the past. He still cringes. He still hurts from them. And he says that, he can never be forgiven, that he’s useless. But do you know how his eyes shine when he helps others? It’s like a brazier full of ember." - For Sītā
battlescars - the travelling band
my false - matt corby
little lion man - mumford & sons
bad blood - bear's den
wish you were here - pink floyd
this heart i know - westward the tide
agape - bear's den
come out of the woods - matthew and the atlas
let it be - the beatles
the cave - mumford & sons
rivers and roads - the head and the heart
little giant - roo panes
Hearing the shout made Clay jump despite instantly recognizing the voice. Then he was lifted up from behind and laughs loudly. "H-hiya Bernie." Feet back on the ground, he leaned back into the other man, letting out a relieved sort of sigh. "I-I just told my p-parents to stay o-out of my life f-forever. A-and I broke my phone b-because they had the n-number and I d-didn’t w-want to deal with them t-trying again. H-how are you, B-Bernie?" He leaned his head back, sort of turning it to look at the other, a smile on his face and a touch of worry in his eyes. Reality was not far from setting in and fear was always soon behind.
Bernard laughs too, happy that Clay is in good mood. He places his chin on the top of Clay's head, humming lightly. He was aware of the suffering of the other, and considered going after the parents more than once. But he thought it wasn't his place nor Clay would want it. It was a good news. "Are you okay?" He asks after a long pause. That's the only question that matters. He moves away his chin and lets go of Clay. He takes a step back forming a small smile on his lips when asked how is he. He shrugs, "I'm fine, as always." That's far from true, but he figured Clay doesn't need more stuff to worry over.
Crossing her arms at her chest, she rolled her eyes at the project who was so adamant about not moving. How fucking hard was it, really, to step aside? They got in her way and as such, they should make way for her. "If you don’t fucking move —." Growling lowly, she replicated someone’s ability of telekinesis (It was amazing being a replicator at her stage; she could identify powers around her in a matter of seconds. Success.) "I’m not having the best of days." Ellie started, flicking her hands to the side, the telekinesis roughly moving the project into the lockers. "Yes, yes. Bitch. I’ve heard six times today. If you would have fucking moved then this could have —." Scowling, she waved her hand in the air and huffed out. "Forget it. I’m not wasting time with you. Bye.”
Stopping in her tracks, she turns around and looks the project up and down. “Horrible outfit, by the way. Horrible outfit. Do not wear brown with a black. Ew.”
Hearing a trouble at the hallway, Bernard changes his course. He carries a tree he got for Christmas with him too. As soon as he spots the source of trouble though, he puts it down on the floor and helps a kid out of the locker-- he shudders a bit, remembering what it feels like to be stuck in the locker. He didn't quite enjoy it. "Hey, not cool." He comments with a small frown resting on his forehead. The comment of the outfit confuses him for a second-- colors, not his thing-- but he shrugs it off anyway. He will ask Dax later. He picks up his tree again and follows the girl. Well, walks in the same direction. Incidentally, he's heading the same direction. "You didn't have to do that..." He mumbles quietly.
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