The sudden transfer didn't surprise him this time. He was expecting it. He might have been disappointed if it didn't happen. Ever since he woke up in the morning, he knew exactly what day it was. And when he found himself standing in the middle of a dark living room, he wasn't the least bit startled. He took a deep breath, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked around for a while. He had never seen in this part of the house. He had only visited once, in the boy's bedroom, eight years ago.
The place was eerily quiet. The short winter day had turned into a night a long time ago and the streetlights were once again the only illumination but even their yellow pale light couldn't fully penetrate the darkness that shrouded the house. It was unnatural. As if the whole place was isolated from all the light and from all the joy and happiness in the world. Dorian looked around and saw a lot of pictures, smiling faces, sparkling eyes, days filled with laughter and joy. Only the echoes of those happy moments now lingered around in this empty, sad house.
When Ruben appeared next to him, he already knew what happened. The boy was once again all alone. When he was born, his mother and his father both passed away. Now, as he turned eighteen, stood on the precipice of adulthood, his family was once again taken away. A day that was meant to be filled with the celebration was now covered in heart-aching grief and pain. Suffocating loneliness.
"Let's go eat some cake," Ruben said and his voice was disgustingly cheery. "This whole day doesn't need to be this miserable."
"How did you know I was here?" Dorian asked him.
"That wasn't hard to guess," Ruben smiled. "As soon as I saw the names on my contracts, I knew you'd be here."
A small light flickered from the kitchen. The beautiful, flower-shaped ceiling lamp was switched on, but even it struggled to shine through the darkest shadows that threatened to take over the room. As the two men walked in, Pawie's head rose and its yellow eyes looked at them curiously. The cat sat beside the boy, still on the kitchen floor.
Hours earlier, when the police arrived, Milot opened the door to them. He listened to their words, their condolences, their sympathy. Understood the news they gave to him but it all was like a dream, soft, silent, slow movements. He shook his head when they asked him was there anyone they could contact. Was there someone who could come to him and keep him company?
They looked at him, a young boy barely out of his childhood standing all alone in the doorway of the big, empty house, and they hesitated. They told him they could invite a crisis counselor to help him. He shook his head and closed the door without another word. He walked back to the kitchen and slumped in the middle of the floor. Without realizing it, he isolated his house from the rest of the neighborhood, made it invisible and nonexistent. His grief was too big for this mortal world to see. He didn't cancel the party but no one rang the doorbell. To all those people, his house, his family, his parents, never existed in the first place.
"Let's get some champagne," Ruben assessed the situation and strolled in, took four glasses from the tray, grabbed a bottle of sparkling wine, and popped the cork open. In the quiet kitchen, the sound was like suddenly a bomb going off. Milot flinched and raised his head.
"Pawie," Ruben glanced at the cat. "I'll pour you a glass as well. It's about high time we all get shitfaced. And maybe fuck each other to oblivion later on."
Dorian looked at the young man and strange feelings flowed through him. He didn't know why he felt like this. As if he was the one who needed comforting more than Milot. It was somehow unfair that the boy had to suffer when there was someone much stronger around who could have easily pulled through this. As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he wondered did he mean himself? And if he did, why did he suddenly have such an urge to keep this boy safe, keep him protected from pain and suffering. Bewildered by his own mind, Dorian knelt down next to him. Milot's blue eyes were dry but his face was horribly pale like he was bleeding to death from an invisible wound. There were no words to erase a pain as deep as this, there was nothing he could have said to help him and Milot reached out and grabbed his arm. His fingers clenched hard and his whole body trembled.
"It shouldn't....hurt this much," he gasped. "It really shouldn't..."
Dorian didn't know what came over him. A thin, fragile emotion reached through time, through lost memories and he suddenly knew for sure he had known this boy before. When? That was still shrouded in mystery. And how? For that, he didn't need an answer right now. He only knew, felt, that at one point, they had been very close, important to each other. Based on those emotions, he wanted to comfort the boy, do something, wanted to let him know that he wasn't alone right now.
They weren't friends, barely knew each other, and yet here they were, somehow connected at this particular moment. He moved closer and wrapped his arms around him. It was warm and safe, soothing. To be this close, to be able to hold him and console him. His hand slowly moved up and down his back, patted his shoulders, and absentmindedly caressed his hair. He knew the feeling of loss all too well. Had encountered it countless times during these long, lonely centuries.
"I should've expected this," Milot said. "I knew it would happen but..."
"Let's get you off the floor," Ruben patted his head and nodded to Dorian. "It's easier to eat at the table."
Pawie circled him as the two men lifted him on his feet. He swayed like a drunkard, and Ruben pulled out a chair and they sat him down. He could not lift his gaze to look at them, he felt so incredibly guilty. He knew this was going to happen. But he had momentarily forgotten what his birthday meant, what coming here meant. Losing a loved one or a two. Just another name on the long list he had already sacrificed for his own selfish happiness.
"How did they...?" Milot muttered as Ruben sat down next to him.
"Do you want the truth or beautiful lies?" Ruben took his plate and cut a big piece from the strawberry cake. Then he placed the plate in front of him.
"What does it matter at this point?" Dorian frowned. "They are gone."
"True," Ruben admitted. "But mortals usually want to know. When their loved ones die, they want to make sure that it was quick and painless."
"Was it?" Milot asked.
"No," Ruben cut another piece and passed it over the table to Dorian. "I'll tell you if you really want to know. Do you?"
Milot swallowed. Dorian was right. They were gone, it didn't matter how they left, and he would not be able to bring them back. But still...his heart was so restless, it ached so badly. They did not deserve this. He looked at Ruben, this beautiful calm creature who was never phased, no matter what.
"Tell me," Milot croaked.
"You know it snowed last night," Ruben began. "As they headed home, a woman who yelled at his two children crashed their car on the nearby crossing. She had old and worn-out winter tires and not enough money to buy new ones after her husband left her when she slept with one of her co-workers. By the time she crashed your parents, he was trying to call her, tell her that he might give her another chance, because of the children. Simply put, their family survived the crash, yours didn't. Your father's neck was broken so he didn't linger. Your mother? Bled to death before the paramedics could get to her. She yelled for ten minutes and that was ten minutes too long. They were coming from the jeweler. This was meant to be your birthday gift," Ruben placed a small satin box on the table in front of him. "Happy birthday."
Milot touched the box and realized there was blood on it. He yanked his hand back and looked at his fingers. His hand was trembling. There it was, as clear as day. His parents had gone without him. They left him behind. He held back his tears as he opened the box. A thick, silver bracelet lay on top of a small cushion. There was a small plaque attached in the middle of the jewel. His name and his birthday were carved on it with beautiful, curved letters. He took the jewel in his hands and slipped it on his wrist.
Silence fell into the kitchen. Ruben ate the cake and drank the whole bottle by himself. Dorian didn't touch the plate placed in front of him and Pawie simply followed Milot's every movement. Milot ate a piece of the sweet strawberry cake and even managed to swallow it. See, it's not so bad, he managed to tell himself. Just as he was about to take another bite, he felt his stomach churn. He rushed off the table, knocked down his chair, and ran into the bathroom. Pawie jumped after him and soon they heard him gagging and retching, gasping for air.
"You don't have to be so cruel," Dorian scowled. "He's still young..."
"Young my ass," Ruben didn't even glance up. He cleared his plate and opened another bottle. "We shouldn't let this go to waste."
"What's wrong with you today?" Dorian asked with a cold voice.
"This is entirely his own fault," Ruben replied calmly. "He knew this was going to happen. It's the price he'll pay for being born without permission."
"What?" Dorian asked. "What do you know about him? You told me you didn't have access to the rehabilitation department."
"I don't, but I'm not stupid," Ruben continued. "It's not that hard to connect the dots. I've been doing this for a long, long time. It's not unheard of, but quite rare. He must have had a good reason for this."
"What does that mean?" Dorian asked. "To be born without permission?"
"More cake?" Ruben smiled.
"Explain!" Dorian said.
"I'll know more when we get back," Ruben replied and his gaze lingered at the doorway. "But here's the thing. His cat died when he was six. Then he yanked it out its grave like it was nothing and here it is now, walking and talking like a human. He calls out to you whenever he feels like it and teleports you right in front of him. He acts like he's a fucking teenager who knows nothing about the world and its laws, but he definitely knows he came back without permission. He is willing to lose everyone he loves so that he can exist for some unexplainable reason. What reason, you might ask. He's the only one who knows. But it's a lonely road to walk and now he has no one to accompany him."
"He still has Pawie," Dorian said and was about to add something else. But keeping words like that to himself was now the safest option.
He has me now as well, Dorian allowed the thought slip into his mind.
"Just because the cat has nine lives, doesn't mean it can't die," Ruben chuckled. "It's just a cat, after all."