Madison sat next to the spark of light, sinking her hooves carefully in the pool of her friend’s memories.
There's this... story. Scenario? Theory? Something Madison had heard about when she was a teenager, though she couldn't for the life of her recall exactly where. If a third-dimensional being were to stick their paw in the second-dimension, a second-dimensional being would only be able to perceive the third-dimensional being as an incomprehensible shapeshifting mass. They wouldn't be able to perceive depth, and understand that the object was not one shape-changing thing, but a thing composed of several other things stacked together on its sides.
She wondered, then, if she was seeing a being of the fourth dimension. Hah, he was, at least technically, a being of time, was he not? It was his power that tossed her and Akeidat into the different timelines. Is that what happened when a person died? Their whole biography laid out bare, no less perceivable at a single glance than a body.
Well, higher-dimensional being or not, Darius was her friend. She wasn't going to leave a friend behind; not anymore.
"Heya," she greeted, an air of nonchalance about her. With a huff, she warned, "I'm just, uh, I'm gonna start rambling. Word-dumping. You can stop me at any time, and I'll shut up; but there's things I wanna say to you, that I want you to hear."
The light throbbed wordlessly. Madison breathed in, then out.
“You know,” She began, “I didn’t- I never remembered this ‘till now, but when I was a kid, one of my, uh, biggest secret fantasies was getting into some horrible accident.”
The glow dimmed, softly, revealing a child about Akeidat and Charlotte’s age, his pinkish-purple amethyst fur simple and bright. A blank canvas, untouched by the brush of the years. He looked at her with curious astonishment, and she chuckled mirthlessly.
“Yeah,” She slumped forwards, paws in her lap, “I thought: if something truly awful happened to me, like almost dying or whatever, that there’d finally be people who cared about me. They’d dote over poor old woe-is-me, showering me with affection, I wouldn’t be alone anymore, and I’d have a, uh, tangible reason for why I was-” she gestured vaguely with her paw, “-like that. The weird overemotional kid. 'Course, whenever something bad actually happened, I always chickened out, and nothing ever ended up changing."
Darius looked down, and his tail, still long and slender, yet shorter and smaller than she’d ever seen it, curled in on itself. Now that she wasn't tumbling through his memories, distracted by all the sounds and smells; it felt odd, seeing him like this, without the uncanniness factor of the appearance he had when they first met. The canniness was uncanny.
Still, she continued, “And, uh, hah- how fucked is that?”
He looked back up at her, quickly, and she looked back. In the child’s place was a teenager. A gangly thing, most of his fur still a bright purple-pink, but the seeds of familiar patterns tacked subtly onto his coat. Dark purple fingertips and a faint, nearly unnoticeable outline around his snout.
“Nobody should- should have to feel like they gotta hurt themselves or prove themselves or whatever to get someone to give a shit, y’know?” She growled, “And neither the fuck do you.”
The kid's ears perked up, but he still didn't speak. Madison took that as permission, her cue to continue.
"Neither of us, uh, got the lives we- we daydreamed about," she heaved a hefty sigh, leaning back on her paws to look up at the endless stars above. Distantly, she wondered if those lights were really stars at all. Were they anything? It was a dream, after all, "-and that sucks ass. It really, really sucks ass."
They were both snickering by now; and for once, coming from Darius, it didn't sound nervous or forced. His laughter sounded pained, but genuine.
"Gosh, we- we both waited so long, and tried, so, so fucking hard," she bemoaned, "And it didn't work."
Her voice cracked a little at the end, and silence fell between them. She wondered what it felt for Darius to have her hooves dipping into his memories, swishing them around like ocean water. He hadn't protested or winced thus far, so it likely didn't hurt. Was it tingly? Did he even feel it at all?
Gathering her courage again, she continued, "And that's- that's okay, I think."
"We're just some random nobodies. We're not special or exceptional or whatever bullshit people keep putting on pedestals-" ah, fuck, was she getting off-topic? She might've been getting off-topic a bit. Trying to tie it back to the point she was making, "Maybe we're even below the average. But I think that's not our fault. Not all of it, anyway."
“Maybe I could’ve been less of a bitch,” her heart clenched slightly at the teen’s distraught look, as though waiting to protest against the very idea that his friend was anything less than marvellous. But, ever still, he remained quiet, listening, “And maybe you could’ve been more honest. But- what I'm trying to say, is-”
“You’re enough just having lived, Dare,” and that was her point.
And as she looked at him, his form shifted and changed; every time she blinked, she could see all the people he’d been. A gangly, confused teenager. A frustrated twenties. A defeated thirties and hopeful-barely-forties. A frightened child. She suddenly had the urge to hug all of them, reaching into the past to tell him everything was going to be alright.
Instead, however, Madison leaned on her friend’s ever-shifting shoulder, and his form stabilised, somewhat. Still ever-shifting, but always grown. Wrinkles and saturation and patterns and years coming and going like static effects on an old television.
“We’re not alive to, uh, accomplish stuff,” She turned the words over her tongue, as though testing them for herself. “We’re alive to be alive. That’s all there is to it, I think."
There he was. That was the friend she knew. His fur gleamed as bright as they did in his childhood, intricate and detailed by all the years he had and hadn't lived. She nodded her head at him, passing the metaphorical baton, and now it was Darius' turn to speak.
"I'm sorry for lying," he spoke, voice so soft and quiet that she could hardly hear it. He, too, leaned backwards with a sigh. But instead of leaning on his paws, he lay down on his back against the cold, transparent floor.
"I don't- I don't know what I was doing," he admitted, weakly, "I don't know. I guess I just wanted you two to think I was cool. A wise guardian angel; 'stead of some nobody old man who died in the most nobody way possible."
"'Old man'?" She repeated, teasingly, "Mate, you look like- like you're the age of my co-workers. We could've gone to karaoke nights together."
"Hah," he covered his eyes with his arm, "Imagine that."
Imagine. Did they ever meet, before all this happened? She couldn't recall another Darius in her life, but they could've met in passing. Maybe they could've walked past each other in the grocery store, once. Maybe they took the same elevator at the mall, standing next to each other as strangers in apathetic silence. Maybe they were in the same tour group at the zoo. She didn't know; she was never good with faces.
Darius sighed.
"I shouldn't have lied. That wasn't good of me. I'm sorry."
"Mm," she mumbled, thoughtfully. A dozen different responses came to her in mind; no shit, no you shouldn't have, that was dangerous, that was stupid, I'm so mad at you right now, it's all good, I get it, did you think I wouldn't have heard you out? No, I probably wouldn't, not back then, "Apology accepted."
She joined him on the floor, paw over her chest, "So what now?"
Her friend shrugged.
"You can go home," he phrased it like a suggestion, rather than an inevitability, "It's over. You completed your wishes. Your lessons' learnt."
"And you?" she asked.
He didn't respond for about a minute. But just as Madison was about to open her mouth, he said:
"Whatever comes next," breathed Darius, "I suppose. God, that sounds cheesy."
Madison chuckled, but didn't speak.
"I mean," Darius shrugged, "There's no sugarcoating it anymore, right? I'm dead. I can't go back. It's- it's done."
"Hasta la vista! Au revoir! The show's over!" He put on an announcer's voice, like he was narrating a sports event and not his death, then let it grow bitter, "Not like anyone ever stuck around long enough to see the show, anyway."
More silence. Then, Madison rolled to her side, facing Darius, who tilted his head to face her in return.
"Can I hug you?" she asked, her voice and expression plain, like she was asking about the weather, rather than making a request. Darius blinked, stunned, then slowly, he nodded.
The two shuffled closer together on the floor. Darius' fur, warm to the touch, sunk deeply into the fabric of Madison's clothes. It wasn't long before she heard a sob, and tears stained the collar of her sweater. With one paw, she gently rubbed circles on Darius' back, and let her own tears fall, as well.
They didn't know how long they stayed like this for. Perhaps longer than they cared to count. Finally, with a shuddering breath, Madison spoke.
"I'm gonna miss you," she hiccuped, her voice minuscule and wobbly, "I'm gonna miss you so much."
Darius tugged harder at her sweater.
"Me too," he rasped.
"I'm scared," he said, plainly. Madison could feel him shaking in her embrace, "I don't want to die."
There was nothing Madison could say to that. There were no words she could even think to muster. Instead, she hugged him tighter, hoping, hoping, hoping, that he could somehow sense how much she cared about him. How much this one, ordinary man who tried his best was loved.
His eyelids drooped slightly, and she pulled a bit back. She knew it was time for him to sleep.
"Hey," she shook him, gently. Not to keep him awake, but to get his attention. Darius stared at her, childlike and quiet, even as the bags under his eyes appeared more pronounced.
What could she do, for a dying spirit? Sing a lullaby? Tell a story? While it all seemed suitably saccharine, maybe even poetic, it didn't particularly feel right to her.
"Thank you. For everything," Madison opted for, first. Closure was the least she could do, for him. To tell him he'd done a good job; because he did, and he deserved to know that.
The corners of Darius' mouth turned upwards. Not a full-on smile, but something close to it.
Then Madison had an idea.
"You lived in Gloomytown, right? Like us?" she suddenly asked.
Darius nodded, slowly. He still didn't speak, and Madison had the distinct impression that perhaps he felt too physically weak to do so. He's been awake for two weeks straight, longer than anyone should have to. She couldn't blame him for being tired.
"If- if you're okay with it, I'll go to your... where you'll rest," Madison declared. Darius' eyelids raised, pupils scanning, but he didn't protest or shake his head.
"I'll ask Akeidat if they want to come, too," continued his friend, "A-again, if you're okay with it."
He nodded again. Even slower and subtler, this time. She could tell he was fighting to keep himself awake, to spend even just a little more time with the only friend he's had in years. She knew this, because she felt about him the same way. He was the first adult friend she's had in perhaps more than a decade; and she still didn't want to say goodbye, not just yet.
Well. As cheesy as it felt, it was now or never.
Madison hummed. It was something she hadn't done in a while; following the wordless melody of no song in particular- she was sort of making it up as she went. She kept the tune slow, gentle, quiet.
She'd read somewhere that music was often the last thing a brain latched onto before death. She could only hope it did something for Darius, whose eyes were fluttering shut with each passing moment.
The floor was turning into that jelly-like material again. Madison felt her own sleepiness take hold, but she knew that of the two lying here, only one would awake in the real world.
Madison hummed until she couldn't find the strength to hum anymore.