Chapter 43: Coming to terms

By the time I wake up again, I feel empty.
I want to go back to sleep.
I roll over, close my eyes again.
Then shuffle out the door not soon after anyway.
I can’t sleep anymore.
I need a drink. If I sneak to the lab and then back to bed I can-
“Tungsten?” Inquiry asks from the water basin. I groan inwardly. He’s doing dishes again, which I appreciate but I really don’t feel like talking to people right now.
“Hey.”
“How are you doing?”
“How do you think?”
“Right, that was a stupid question. I’m sorry.” He leaves the dishes for what they are and dries his hands “Do you want some tea or a hug or-”
“I want wine, a lot of it.”
“Is…is that wise?”
“Of course not, but the worst it’ll do is kill me and then I get to be with him again.” I don’t mean it, I don’t think I mean it. I don’t want to die but I also don’t want to keep lugging this hurt around with me.
It’s so heavy. And I’m so tired still.
The boy’s eyes are filled with pity. I don’t like looking at it.
The doll enters the room “I’m sorry for your loss Tungsten.”
“Thank you.” I can’t believe I’m asking this “Where’s Steel?”
“He told us he went to the docks to get things ready. And to tell you, you should go bring the body when you’re awake again.
“Ah, okay.” guess I’ll do that then.

He’s still in my bed.
This is going too fast, right?
Normally the body would be on display for a couple of days right? Give family and friends the chance to say goodbye.
But who would want to come by still?
It’s not like we announced it in the papers.
And even if we had.
Who else would miss him?
No one’s coming for him anymore.
So we might as well get it over with.
I kneel down by his side. fingers touching his cheek ever so gently.
A lock of white hair flops over the back of my hand and a nasty part of my brain tries to convince me I could cut off a small piece.
It’s a sign.
He’s saying it’s okay.
No one’s watching anyway.
No one needs to know.
It’s the romantic thing to do-
No.
I shake my head at no one but myself.
There’s nothing romantic about going against your loved ones’ wishes.
I brush the lock back in place.
Then get up, push one arm underneath his back, another underneath his legs.
He’s still too light and yet unfathomably heavy.
I squeeze him against me for a moment.
A hug goodbye.
Then bring him to the latch, being sure to pick up an extra hand to help me open it.

“Are you sure you want to go it alone?” Inquiry asks as we make our way to the surface.
“I’m sure, this won’t be a very safe procedure, I don’t need you to risk getting sick.”
He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something. Then closes it again and looks away
I nod “Thanks for the help.” Then turn to face the world.
“Tungsten?”
“Yeah?”
“A, uh, a wise man told me once you have to take life with all its curve balls. It’s the only way to stay sane.” He smiles for me.
I chuckle.
Cheeky bastard.
“Thanks, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“You’ll always be a kid to me.”
He rolls his eyes “I’m going to go inside now. Good luck.

I start to walk.
It’s not a long road to the docks from the forest.
But it is if you try to avoid any people or buildings.
Carrying Neon in my arms I don’t need any questions right now.
As the usual forest glumness makes way for the water, I note the sun is already starting to set.
My feet sink away in the sand. I try to keep steady but I can’t see the ground.
“You took your sweet time,” Steel tells me from amid the beach. His eyes are fixed on the pages of a book.
“All I did was sleep and get here.” I huff. It’s not like I went out for a drink beforehand.
Though I’d definitely want one.
He closes the book “Good. Just put the kid on the pyre.” he says gesturing to what I can only describe as a long pile of sticks and straw.
I lay him down trying my best not to jostle anything and make the whole thing collapse.
“Good, now take these and get over here.” he hands me a dust mask and a pair of goggles and gestures to me to a large set of bellows. “Just step on this when I tell you to.” He then walks up to the corpse and plunges a syringe into his neck with zero ceremony.
“What’s that?”
“Poison.”
“Why?”
“To make sure he’s dead.”
I put on the protective gear “Are you even sad for him?” why am I fighting back tears all the time while you don’t even seem to be bothered?
Steel sighs “Look kid, we all knew it was coming.”
I ball my fists “He was your ion!”
“Yes, I know.”
“Did he even mean anything to you!?”
“Of course he did. But it’s part of life, you get used to it after a while.”
“How long?”
“Huh?” he looks up at me.
“How long till I’m used to it? It sounds pretty neat being used to it. Like it doesn’t hurt at all.”
“Oh it still hurts, hurts like hell but it doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. The kid’s dead so I might as well focus on the task at hand and make sure he gets his wish granted. You think I put all this effort into this setup for fun?”
“I-” I look around, the pyre, the bellows, the piles of logs and coal, the poker and furnace standing by on the rocks “I guess not. But why the syringe if he’s dead anyway?”
“I doubt you want him to experience burning alive if it turns out he just fell into a coma.”
That’s.
A good point I guess. But I don’t want to tell him that. I just huff in response.
“Look I know you don’t like me. I don’t care that you don’t like me. But you need my help and I need yours, so are you gonna help me or not?”
I shrug “Okay.”
“Good, then just start with pumping every other second. I’ll let you know if you need to change pace.” He then puts on his mask and pulls a red hot poker from the furnace. Then stabs it into the hay lining the bottom of the pyre.
I push the bellows and the fire flares up around the air. Spreading and climbing its way up to my beloved.
I push it again and again, counting in my head as the smoke rises.
“Slow down for a bit, once every four.” Steel instructs me. He then pushes more fuel at the foot of the pyre. “Now speed up, every second, come on.”
The fire flares and roars as the air blows through it.
Steel keeps tending to the fire, adding fuel and poking at it from time to time.
His eyes are on the fuel, the flames.
But as I work the bellows my eyes have nowhere else to look but him.
I watch as his hair and clothes disintegrate in a matter of second once the flames rise high enough.
Then as the angry yellow tongues lick his skin it starts to blacken and shrinks, tightening around his bones.
My brain tells me I should look away.
But I don’t want to.
I can’t.
The smell of burnt flesh and boiling bodily fluids is making me feel sick to my stomach but still, I keep watching.
There’s a whirlwind in my chest, my heart thumping along with the step of the bellows.
I’m doing this to him.
I need to see it, all of it.
Need to see his final wish come true.
‘you shouldn’t hold on to me, Not a single part of me.’ his words still stick to the forefront of my mind.
I was hurt when he said it.
I still am.
But as the smoke rises in dancing ribbons I can’t help but imagine him finally being free.
And that feels comforting somehow.
Even if the process leaks and reeks.
Even if it sizzles and pops and cracks.
It’s the right thing to do.
I don’t know how long I’ve been stepping on that bellows. All I know is that it’s dark and my leg aches and there’s nothing left but twisted bones that are falling apart into fragments and shards.
“You can stop now, just let the rest of the pyre burn down on its own.”
I pull my foot off the mechanism with a grunt and feel my leg complain against the sand as it tries to find stability.
Then I think ‘fuck it’, step away from the fire and drop down on the sand to gaze up at the stars.
To my surprise, the alchemist sits down next to me “You did well.” He says as his hand lands awkwardly on my shoulder.
“Oh, uh, thanks.” I look up at his face lit with firelight “You did good as well.”
He huffs.
Fine, then don’t take the compliment you old sack.
“I know you didn’t want to, but thank you for coming back for him. You were just what he needed.”
I shrug “It’s not like I could cure him.”
“He didn’t need to be cured, he needed someone to care about him openly. Someone who isn’t afraid to cry or admit he’s scared. What he needed was a sentimental idiot, like you.”
I scoff “And here I almost thought you were being sincere.”
“I am.”
“Well…thanks I guess.” I try to focus on the stars, then finally send my pride on a hike “Before he died, Neon told me he wanted you to know you were like a father to him.” not like you deserve it.
It’s silent for a time.
What? No witty comeback?
I look back at the old man “Steel?”
A single tear-stained word reaches my ears, as the old man starts scrambling for a handkerchief.
“Fuck.”
So the ice-cold business man has a heart after all?
I don’t mean to grin, but it’s hard not to at this point.
I push myself upright, pull my handkerchief from my waistcoat and hand it off.
“Thanks?” he looks perplexed.
He looks human for the first time ever.
I wrap my arms around him and tell him “It’s okay. Just cry for as long as you want.”