Caffeine and Magix

yetmoreprompts:

You promised to meet me at the end of the world.

“…here I am,” I murmur into the darkness. It’s strange here. Nothing echoes but nothing is suffocating either. There’s no ground underneath my feet but I am standing on a ledge. I can’t see where I’d fall and I’m not sure I’d fall in the first place. Everything is…nothing and something all at once.

I know that this is the last end. It has to be. There’s nothing else here, no mountains or rivers or civilization, nothing. This isn’t like the nuclear winter, the tectonic plates shifting, or the sun expanding. This isn’t zombies or fire or aliens. This isn’t disaster. This isn’t destruction.

This the Last End.

And you’re not here. Again. 

I curl into myself, not sure if I even still have a body to curl. I feel myself fold inwards though and that’s enough to make me feel like I’m hiding my face, trying to block it all out. You’re not here. You promised.

Time is dead. I can feel it’s ashes running through me, around me, inside of me. Stars decay in my chest, galaxies implode in my head, light and sound and color streak black in my mind. Everything is so dark, so dark, and you were always so bright, of course you aren’t here.

I am the last soul. I’ve never understood how I lived and you died, how I kept living and you stayed dead. I used to travel the world, the universe, and search for answers. Scrolls and books and data pads–I’ve read them all. I’ve tried them all.

When I uncurl, the dark is still around me. Still inside of me. I’m less clear about where I am, where I begin, where I end. Do I have arms? Legs? How far into the dark do I extend? How far into me does the dark go? I’m dissolving (at last) and I’m so tired. What does it matter if I’m separate or a part of the Last End? What does it matter if I’m the Last Soul or just a soul?

I close my eyes and let myself go softly into the dark. My edges stretch further and further, endlessly on, and I don’t care. I don’t care as my insides become outsides, as my mind fractures and drifts, as my thoughts exist parallel and juxtaposed, as the ashes fill my mouth, the darkness my heart, and–

There’s a light in the last, clear part of me. It’s small, a cool blue, but I know what it is. It’s my part of you, that little creature that has been with me since the beginning. It’s not you, it’s still me, but I can’t– I won’t let it go. I can’t let it go.

It looks so lonely in the Last End. Small and blue and dying like you so many lifetimes ago. My edges curl in, straining the darkness for the memories. Memories of Time, of Galaxies, of Light and Sound and Color. I press these things into your light, into my love for you, and I, against all odds, I create.

I end the Last End with creation, with love, with you because you may not be here, but I love you. A world develops inside of me, a world that I weave green and blue around, that I breathe clouds onto, that I mold animals out of. I build a place you would have loved when I knew you, a wild place, a beautiful place, a pure place.

I look on my creation and it’s so beautiful, it’s so filled with you, that I have to turn away for a moment. Just one because it hurts, it hurts all my faded edges to see you somewhere where you aren’t. 

But when I turn around–when I turn around there you are.

You are blinking and new in this world, staring at the sky the same color as your eyes. You touch the soft, green leaves I modeled after the feel of your skin, you breathe in the sweet aroma of flowers that I created in honor of your beauty. You stand and you walk and you live.

I–I am not who I used to be. I am not a soul that can stand beside you; I am the soul you exist within. But that’s okay. That’s okay. I will watch and I will love you from the Last End around our New World.

I have loved you and I am loving you and I will love you. 

And then one day (one day) I will meet you at the end of the world.

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