Destiny [one]

-part one-1

You have to...2

...because it is your destiny.3

---4

"Bullshit," he murmured as he threw his empty cigarette box onto the hardened mud floor. “All bullshit! This world, this place, this destiny!” The man held his palm against the side of his head, and scowled as he stepped on the box, crushing it beneath his weight. He slammed his fist against the nearby tree, teeth clenched hard as he growled at the woman who stood in front of him. "I always thought you were above such foolish things, mother, but it looks like I was wrong about you all wrong."5

"But my son-"6

"I should have gone with father, instead of staying with you. But I supposed my staying was part of the destiny you saw, isn’t it?" He pushed on, ignoring her tear-stained face, ignoring the helpless face she was looking at him with. Years ago, when his father walked away from their home, she had put on the same face, and as a child, he had fallen to the pitiful mask. But now, when he was a man of twenty years, he knew that behind the tearful mask lay a manipulative woman who believe she worked for the Goddess. "Tch, mother. I always thought you wiser, but it looks like you’re nothing more than a idiot being manipulated, just like how you have manipulated others!"7

He watched her cry, and all he did was to turn away. "I will be leaving at dawn, mother. I will leave you and seek out my future, away from the lies you think you have seen me destined with. And away from this blasted home. In your own words, mother, this place is godforsaken."8

But the next moment, he heard her laugh. Startled, he whirled around, and saw her smirk, a smirk he never thought he would have seen on her face. The tears she had cried shone on her cheeks, but they seemed to be merely decorations as the woman he once called mother laughed at the sight of her son. And then he knew. He knew this was who his mother truly was - the manipulative bitch he had always suspected to be within her.9

"My son," she drawled. "My son, born of my blood and my womb. You think to escape your destiny? The destiny my Goddess has set for you? What foolishness. Your father shows in you, son, the foolish man who left me so long ago when you were but a mere child. Was it painful the day he left? Yes, it must be, seeing how much of his essence he left in you."10

"You have no right to talk about father like that!" he screamed. "He had loved you, but all you did was to-"11

She laughed. "I played with him; toyed with his emotions, just like any other girl would. But he was," she paused here, giggling, "he was pretty, wasn’t he? Not any boy would have pure, beautiful golden hair! I didn’t like him though, but the Goddess needed me to love him. I had to, for the Goddess. Only for her." Her blue eyes gazed sorrowfully at him. "I was sad when he left, though, when I no longer had a puppy to play with." And the smirk dawned once more as she continued, "But I still had you... And the destiny she has given you." His mother stood up, brushing all traces of dust from her dress, and he watched in both horror and awe as he dress became, once more, sparkling clean. "Surprised? I am more than what you give me credit for, my son. Did you think the Goddess would not reward me for serving her faithfully? And did I not, twenty years ago, give her my faith?"12

"You… You…" His eyes widened as he stared at her with realization. "You gave what to her?"13

"My faith, my body, my being, my all," the woman whispered. "My son, my Fidel, what if I told you your leaving me was your destiny? Would you still leave, or would you stay to defy your destiny?" She drew closer, her fingers playing with his collar, then his neck, then his chin before they lowered, down his shoulders until they wrapped around his wrists. "You are part of the cycle, and no matter where you run, you cannot hide."14

He kicked her, and watched her crumple onto the floor. But as he turned away from her and took his first step to freedom, he heard her laugh again. He hesitated, if only for a while to listen to her parting words15

The words he would remember for the rest of his life.16

“You have to… because it is your destiny.”17

---18

Elam sighed as he rubbed the bruise on his right elbow, where he had landed painfully on, and cursed the innkeeper breathlessly. He wanted so badly to yell how unfair it was for him not to get a room, just because he looked younger than he actually was. “Never asked to be short,” he muttered, “or that cute and innocent looking.” But his innocence was a blessing when he wanted to weasel out of trouble villagers accused him of, or when he had done something he couldn’t admit to.19

He got off the floor, all the while rubbing his elbow, and walked forward, his mind fixated on finding a way to punish the innkeeper. “Stew, or boiled?” the dark-haired boy inquired himself, only to answer, “No, I like things well cooked. He can’t be rare.” He giggled, then continued, “Well, I bet his skin’s too-” The next moment, Elam found himself on the ground once more.20

"Watch where you’re going, kid!" he heard the other man shout.21

Kid. The man who had bumped him called him a kid. If that wasn’t insulting, Elam didn’t know what was. "Well, look who’s talking here, sir! I’m not a kid!" He looked up defiantly, but was shocked by what he saw.22

The man had silver hair, long silver hair that fell gently on his shoulders, and the most beautiful green eyes that he had ever seen in his life. The only distracting thing was the look of anger on the man’s face, and the anger spoilt the whole look.23

"Cheh," Elam said, letting disappointment creep into his voice. "You should smile more, sir. Then maybe you won’t look so constipated, or something." The man’s eyes narrowed. "No, not like that! You smile when you lift the corner of your lips!" He leaned closer. "Like..." He reached his hands out.24

"Don’t touch me!" the man yelled, shoving him away.25

Elam held his cheek, and glared at the man. He supposed he was lucky to be already on the floor, but it wasn’t as if he needed three introductions to the floor! He always had a good memory since the day he was born, and he could remember people on first sight. And this man… was the first of a kind he’d ever met in his life. Nobody he had seen has bright green eyes as dead and soulless as this man’s. "Well, look who’s being touchy!"26

The man got up, and brushed dirt away from his clothes. "Look, kid, if you know what’s good for you, stay away." His hand ran once through his silver hair, and his green eyes looked away from Elam’s own. "And I mean it, kid. You don’t want to get hurt."27

"Sir," Elam started. "I recall telling you twice that I am not a kid, thank you very much. I am proudly nineteen, and am certainly not a kid. This is the third time already!"28

"Twice," the man said quietly. "You told me twice."29

Elam shrugged, and pushed himself up for the second time that day. "Very well, I lied. Does it matter, though? I got the message through." He looked at the man warily. "And shouldn’t you apologise?"30

"You’re the one who ran into me," the green-eyed man replied nonchalantly. "I was looking around, and you were the one not looking out for people." He looked down, and Elam could see the annoyed look on the man’s face. "And if you’re not going to apologise, would you please get out of my way? I need to return to the inn."31

The word inn caught his notice. Elam blinked. "You have a room at the inn? You have a room at the inn?" There was silence in which the other man stared at him oddly. "Oh Goddess, you have a room at the inn! I love you, take me in?" He pleaded, turning his charm on.32

"No." The reply was flat, and Elam pouted.33

"Why not? All the rooms in the inn have two beds, and I don't think you're with anybody, 'cause if you are, you wouldn't be out in the dark alone!" Elam went on excitedly, "Besides, the streets here are dangerous in the dark, and you wouldn't want poor me to die out here because a certain somebody didn't want to give me a bed to rest in, would you? I mean, it would all be your fault, and then I would have to haunt you all your life, and I wouldn't get any rest in the afterlife!"34

The green eyes rolled. "I don't believe in the afterlife. I don't believe in ghosts. So shut up and go away, kid." 35

Elam was shoved once more backwards as the man walked forward, but the boy grinned as he called out, "Hey, sir! Do you believe in destiny, then?"36

The man stiffened, and whirled around, his teeth clenched. "What?"37

"I asked a question, you know," Elam said, waving one finger in the air. "You said you didn't believe in the afterlife or in ghosts. So I asked about destiny. I'm amazed you can't comprehend my words, sir."38

"And why should I answer you?" the man asked haughtily. "Why should I care-"39

"Because I believe in destiny," Elam answered confidently. "And because we were destined to meet."40

The man found himself only able to look at the boy in shock, unable to react even as Elam stood up and walked away.41

"…because we were destined to meet…"42

---43

Fidel cursed himself for his weakness three hours later, after spending the time on an entire box of cigarettes, which had surprisingly, calmed him down. He crushed the empty box in his palm and threw it out of the window, ignoring the profanity someone outside his window yelled. Why couldn’t he move? Was it the way the boy had said it?44

"Because we were destined to meet..."45

"Destined to meet, huh," he repeated. "What nonsense! What nonsense..." The silver-haired man looked out of the window, but didn’t blinked when lightning flashed in the distance. "It’s going to rain soon," he murmured, and subconsciously clutched the sheets closer to his body. "And it’s going to be cold."46

But what about the boy? Fidel asked himself. He couldn’t leave the boy outside to freeze, could he? But someone else would have helped him, he reckoned, someone else would have helped him. The man tried to ignore the feeling of dread that grew inside him, and attempted weakly to push down the memory of a scene with the townspeople mistreating a beggar who had only asked a rich looking man to spare a few coins.47

He tried to forget, but no matter how much he blinked, he could not forget the way almost innocent dark brown eyes looked at him, and the energetic way the boy had acted in front of him. He could not forget the way the boy’s lips had quirked, or the way the boy had said the damning words.48

So Fidel slept, and awoke almost an hour later to the sound of the pouring rain, but even sleep could not allow him to forget the boy who had smiled. He cursed silently, and looked out into the fog, each drop of the rain that splattered itself onto the tiles of the roof was echoing the screams his brain threw at him, and accompanied the images his brain threw at him.49

He kept seeing the boy being thrown against the wall, and kicked. He could see blood oozing out of wounds, and he could see broken bones. He could see it all so clearly, as if it really were happening.50

"Damn it," he muttered, as he got out of the bed, dressing himself quickly, and ran down the stairs, into the heavy rain, ignoring the calls of the innkeeper. Damn it all! Fidel ran, but didn’t know where he was going. He kept on moving, until he saw a light in front of him. He approached the light slowly, and relief gripped him when the he came close enough to see the light illuminate the boy’s face.51

He reached for the boy’s wrist, and felt a pulse. A rather strong pulse, in fact.52

"Hmm... What?" The boy opened his eyes, and weary brown eyes met green ones. "Oh, you... Sleepy, and cold... Can't think."53

"What were you doing?" Fidel hissed. "Sleeping out in the cold? Don‘t you have a home to go-"54

"No home," the boy murmured. "But that's 'kay, 'cause I 'ave you. Or somethin'... Can't 'member, somethin' 'bout bein' destined." The boy’s face screwed, then relaxed as the boy slumped back against the wall.55

"Tch," he cursed, as he lifted the boy in his arms, half-wondering why the boy seemed so light, as he made his way slowly back into the inn. It didn’t matter now, destiny or not... A life was at stake.56

“Warm,” the boy murmured in his arms. “Like… it.”57

"Do you believe in destiny?"58

"You have to, because it is your destiny."59

"...because we were destined to meet..."60

---61

"We are all pawns in this world. All of us, even the manipulative bitch who lives not far away. The Gods look down at us and move us like pieces. They don’t care about how we feel. They don’t feel like we do. All the great Creator has to do is look down and decide whether he likes two people being together, and if he doesn’t, he forces them apart.62

"This is what destiny is; living a lie we don’t want to but are forced to. A path, supposedly ours, created before we even took our first breath. We cannot decide, because it is all just a game. Maybe God doesn’t throw dice, but all I know is that someone up there loves to stir up chaos for everyone.63

"But maybe even God is controlled by a greater power; Destiny itself."64

"And maybe even Destiny doesn’t know the extent of its own power."65

---66

Fidel opened his eyes, but brown eyes were already studying him. The boy was sitting up in the other bed. "You’re awake," the boy cheered, "for a while I thought you wouldn’t." The dark-haired boy started looking around in awe. “You’re either really lucky or rich, sir - this is like a king’s room!” The boy turned back again, his eyes glittering. "Of course, it could be because of what you are fated-"67

"Shut up," Fidel snapped. "Don’t talk to me about all that bullshit." He went on, ignoring how the boy flinched at the harsh words he spoke, ignoring how unusual it was for him to get angry in the morning. "Who do you think you are, kid? I saved your life, and all you do is try and push your beliefs on me! I didn’t ask for that, did I?"68

"You didn’t?" the boy asked innocently.69

Fidel bristled. "I did not."70

"Yes, you did. You were wondering ‘bout it, and don’t you dare deny ‘bout it, sir," the boy replied cheerfully.71

"I’m not-"72

But the boy interrupted swiftly, "My name is Elam Tydisen! But I don’t know why, though, mother never lived long enough to tell me, and father was long dead already, so it didn’t really matter at all!" Elam swung his legs, and Fidel watched him in uncomfortable silence. "But I suppose I’m lucky not to be named Hope, or something like that." Fidel stiffened when brown eyes turned to him eagerly, and the boy’s enthusiastic voice came: "What’s your name, sir?"73

"Why?" he asked coldly, sitting up. "I have no need for you to know me, or even my name. I didn’t ask to save you either! Couldn’t you have found a inn?"74

"No other inn in this town," the boy - Elam - said as he ran a hand through his messy dark hair. "Besides, I knew you’d come."75

"Stop it!" Fidel hissed. "Stop stating all that bullshit! It’s bullshit and you know it! I didn‘t damn asked you to save you! I-"76

"I know your destiny," the boy whispered, as he stood up and walked over, cupping Fidel’s right cheek, his other hand settling firmly on Fidel’s shoulder, preventing him from flinching. "I can... tell you your destiny, if you wish..."77

Fidel’s eyes widened as Elam leaned closer and closer, before he instinctively shoved the boy backwards onto the other bed.78

"Oww," the boy grumbled. "Why did you have to do that? It hurts, sir! I’m not exactly immune to pain, you idiot!"79

"Idiot? Idiot! You’re the crazy idiot, if anyone was! What did you do that for?" Fidel demanded.80

"Do what? I didn’t do anything at all!" Elam opposed. "All I did was to ask for a name and you never answered! Why can’t you just answer me, you - you - you..."81

"Fidel Lymote."82

He rolled his eyes when Elam shut his mouth and stared.83

"What? You wanted to know my name."84

Elam started snickering. “Fi-Fidel? Th-that’s so cute! And ironic! You don’t even believe…”85

Fidel felt his own eyes widened. "What do you mean?"86

Elam stopped, and shrugged. "You don’t know? Fidel means faith, idiot. It’s just as bad as Hope!" He giggled.87

"...did I not, twenty years ago, give her my faith?"88

Fidel growled as he gathered his belongings and exited the room, the inn, leaving the other behind.89

-end of part one-90