A Lesson About Futility (1)

(Leo)

***

What Algor said about our search made complete—enough—sense to everyone, even to me in my half-functioning state on the ground.

Scared out of his wits, Inei authorized us to do whatever we wished as he receded into the depths of his cavernous bedroom. Flocking over when Inei figured out some common sense, Hikaru went in there to comfort him. I presumed the Sun King was somehow enamored with the way Inei wept over him, the same as how I felt when Sinclair slammed Inei into the wall because he picked on me.

It was similar to the tactile warmness on my palm when Sinclair laced their fingers around mine.

I laid horizontally on a bed of flowers in the Galaxy Meadow, and they took care of me, knowing I was weakened by the use of powerful magic earlier. They got up several times to bring me glasses of water and other beverages to restore my energy. I thanked them while taking each cup, especially when they brought my favorite fruit as a snack.

***

"Why'd you decide we should explore beginning two hundred years ago?" Sinclair asked when we were still in the courtyard.

Many of the staff members were already dismissed at that point, and Sinclair seemed to prefer the ambience to which their departures gave way. It was nice to have some quiet after the shouting outside and inside my head, though I wouldn't have been shocked if Akiyoshi plopped his ass down behind a bush to listen to any remaining drama.

Algor shrugged, strolling up to Sinclair again. "Seems reasonable. It would make someone feel as if they might be able to find someone who can help them, but everyone is just… a little too before their time." While speaking, he moved his head slowly in a horizontal direction to examine the area.

"Why are you thinking about something as detailed as that?"

Algor stood before a grumpy Sinclair and traced a finger along their jawline as his whimsical, mocking eyes peered down at the messenger.

"Would you rather I say we start—I dunno—all the way from the prehistoric age?" He seized the bottom of Sinclair's face. "Or are you somehow hoping we can't find them so that you can do as you wish?"

Bitterness seeped into my soul as their gazes lingered a second too long. I weakly clenched my fists again. I hated being too wimpy to do whatever I wanted, but I hated it even more when I couldn't do something I felt obligated to do: separate those two.

Sinclair grabbed his wrist and threw it away from themself.

"Don't touch me," they said darkly. Then, they cocked their head to the side as if it was a challenge. "I think I have permission to ask whatever questions I want if I have to be the one to carry this out."

Chuckling, Algor muttered something to himself before speaking at a normal volume once more. "Who said I wanted your help?"

"Hm?" Sinclair replied, and they stiffened. That didn't seem like the response they thought they would get.

"Why don't you go take care of Leo?" Algor said gingerly as he glanced at me behind Sinclair, but his emphasis was as if he spat in front of my shoes.

Nothing about him resembled the man I called my father when he acted like such a stuck-up asshole! What kingdom held his spirit hostage? It deserved to go down in flames for damaging someone who was always kind at heart! No ransom was enough to compensate!

Sinclair shook their head. "That's not what you really want, is it?"

"It's what you want, so go do it. I'll procure the stones." His tone became soft again. "He needs your help, right? And you must have hardly slept with all the work you had to do…?"

Moving away despite not wanting to, Sinclair gave him a defeated expression.

"Fine." Their voice sounded as flat as a list of instructions on paper. "I'll arrive at the crack of dawn to observe your progress and how you configured the stones. You have to make sure you find some amethysts, too. You know the rest."

Algor displayed his toothless grin again. "Yes, Mx. Clarke."

***

I chugged water down my dry throat as I thought about that chat, not sure what to make of it. It incited some kind of emotion in me that was not merely jealousy but something positive as well. It was as if the rosy tint I saw mixed into a greenish-brown like the flora in the Moon Kingdom.

There was something there—something dormant between Sinclair and Algor that started to unseal. No matter how many times Sinclair tried to deny it or said they cared for me, *there was something there*, even if I didn't doubt anything else they said. I was unable to discern if it was love or hate. Perhaps it was both, or perhaps it was neither. It was all so fucking confusing, and I just wanted to return to the simplicity of minding my own business in a meadow all day!

The liquid caught in my esophagus, making me cough violently. I keeled over as I sat up on my butt. I hoped the natural flow of gravity would bring the water down or else I would have had to defy its rules. (My existence was practically a mockery to it with my atypical wings, anyway.)

Sinclair squeezed my hand and straightened up from their seat on the hardened ground—likely a crime against their spine. Trying to ease the fluid along, they patted my back gently.

It soon made its way into my stomach, and I cleared my throat until the string of weak noises ceased. I inhaled and laid back down, turning on my side to face Sinclair.

"You blanked out for a while," they said to me, our faces close enough for their breath to tickle my skin. "Are you okay? Is there something on your mind?"

Just above their shoulder, I focused on a plant behind them and sighed with upturned lips.

"I'm just overwhelmed. Don't worry about it. Though,"—I wanted to be funny—"I think I'd make five laps around the Galaxy Kingdom by foot before trying that again."

"I understand." They showed me their too-sweet grin once more.

"How else was it like? For me, I wasn't too bothered, but I'm exhausted. You, on the other hand,"—they looked me up and down—"appear as if a beast chewed you up and spit you from its belly of fire."

"Gee, thanks," I told them sarcastically with a chuckle before chewing at my cheek. "I didn't know what to expect at all. I didn't think it would feel so… strange. I didn't know what it was like to not be able to move my hands or wings."

"Most people don't know about that last one either." They laughed.

"Well, of course," I replied, "but you react against what you've experienced before. I know about flying, so I don't walk much. You miss your wings because you once knew life with them. It's the same thing."

I swallowed in the hope I didn't hurt them with that joke.

They shrugged. "Maybe."

"But I also didn't know what it'd all look like. Everything flashed by so quickly. I couldn't process any of it."

"Think about it this way," they then said lovingly. "If you know what it's all like now, the next time shouldn't be nearly as bad."

I pondered that for a moment. "You're right. Is that why you and Algor are mostly okay?"

They froze at the mention of that name, face turning bitter then neutral. "Mm, yes, I suppose. You also know we have different kinds of magic."

Pointing to myself, I furrowed my eyebrows. "I have control over physical things, you have control over emotions, and he has control over…?"

"Thoughts. The mind," they said before yawning.

"I see," I replied.

Algor never told me that before throughout the entire time I knew him. I thought he also controlled the physical realm, but I guessed I learned something new every day… It was funny how I always got more than I bargained for and still knew less than I needed.

"Do you need to sleep some?" I asked Sinclair.

It was hard to determine the time as the sun shone to one side of me, and the moon's light brightened the other. It was probably already the middle of the night.

"You've taken good care of me. I'll stay right here to rest. Take care of yourself, please."

Their mouth opened to say something, but they instead nodded. "Thank you. I only need a nap."

Their bloodshot eyes did all the talking for them.

"I'll lay here," they said as they gently leaned forward onto my flower bed, setting their left cheek near the rim of it and closing their eyes to rest.

I smiled at them softly, placing my unclasped hand in their fluffy hair to stroke it and lull them to sleep. The small knots between the strands became gradually undone until my hand went smoothly through them and reunited with pure air partway down Sinclair's back. A look of fondness formed on my countenance, and I envisioned my eyes were wide and sparkly as I peered at their sleeping face. Their glossy pink lips parted, and they vaguely snored.

It was hard to believe they were the same person who threw the king into a wall earlier—the same one who spoke coldly to a fairy stronger than themself. They had no menacing features, and their chubby cheeks and rounded face made them look even less threatening.

I was bitter they hid something from me, but I could ignore it like this. I could ignore it in that sort of bliss. (To think I was entitled to that information meant I was remiss.)

That restful appearance didn't last long.

Soon, the dainty eyelashes tracing their eyelids glimmered from wetness, and their smooth forehead squished into canyon-like crevices. Sinclair's full lips pressed together to turn thin, and they soon spread to speak.

"I can't see a thing!" A flurry of breaths punctuated their speech. "Get me out of here!"

I tensed as they started quivering, and I wondered if we would crush each other's palms like in a brutal game of arm wrestling.

"You're suffocating me. You're suffocating me!"

They removed their hand from mine and curled it in front of their face as if to deflect a violent blow. The marks from the previous night lingered in thin streaks.

"Sinclair! Sinclair!"

I wobbled them around violently. This wouldn't stop until they woke up, so I grew more worried as I watched them flail their arms around—so desperate to end their dreamy suffering.

"Don't hit me again! You won't get any answers from me. Never."

After they shouted that, I held their face and shook it around, prying at their eyelids to see the whites beneath them as tears ran down my palms.

"Sinclair! Wake up!"

How was I supposed to explain I wasn't the enemy when none of my words reached their mind?

I could not bear this. In my dreams, I witnessed them writhing in pain, but I scarcely heard the things they said. I knew now that a morbid sense of curiosity was detrimental because I never wanted to hear them suffer so badly.

"Someone help me!" They kicked at the ground with flimsy legs. "Take these off me!"

Sinclair had the voice and expression of the possessed.

I knew, if they were that restless in their sleep, yelling and shaking did very little to truncate their slumber. I was still fatigued, but I used what strength I could for very simple magic. With a wave of my hand, a stream of icy water poured from it over Sinclair. Their eyes shot open, and their pupils—agitated—moved from side to side.

They sought safety. Safety had them in his arms.

"Sinclair," I cooed as they fixated their gaze on me.

I hugged them, not thinking twice about wrapping my monochrome wings around Sinclair—anything to make them feel comfortable. (Fairies didn't typically place their wings around anyone aside from their lovers like that, but neither of us cared enough to acknowledge that right then. It was just an extreme case…)

They trembled, and when I moved away to grasp their hand again, it would not stop quivering. Their teary, broken eyes were larger than normal and dilated—never motionless. The dampness on their face and neck did not seem to faze them.

"Someone's here to get me," they muttered, still entranced. "Someone's here, Leo. It's not you, right?"

I gave them a winged hug once more, which made my shirt and shoulder wet as they wept against me. The feathers on my left one massaged Sinclair gently as the right one pulled them taut against my body. Stringing my arms around their waist, I shifted backwards enough to stare at them intensely.

"Sinclair, I'm here to help you. There's nothing I want from you that would cause you to hurt like this. Please trust me."

Their empty hand twitched in the air. "How do I—"

"It was a dream. There's nobody here besides me. Look at me without your thoughts clouding you. You'll see I'm genuine."

I took their palm and placed it on my chest, letting the full, thumping heartbeat resonate through Sinclair.

*Let me give each and every one of those to you… That's who they belonged to in the first place…*

Their eyes softened from an accusatory look. Yet even after that, their tears did not cease but continued raining down like the sky around Hikaru when he was upset.

"Ah, Leo." Their voice returned to its normal calm tone with a certain deepness to it, and I grabbed their hand. "It's you—not that shadow."

Warm, heavy exhales brought goosebumps to my neck.

I nodded.

"Was it there again?" I asked, concerned but trying to stay collected for their sake.

"Yes."

Their eyes moved to my shiny wings listlessly. Upon the realization, they gaped, and a goofy smile and blush painted their face.

"I'm so sorry about that. I don't know what came over me to talk to you that way."

"It's fine," I hummed, and I took my wings away from Sinclair, leaving only my arms and hands to comfort them.

I didn't want them to feel trapped but instead secure; there was only a small difference between the two binding feelings. But what came over me to act so intimately towards Sinclair?

"Is there anything that would make you feel better?"

Making a soft noise, they replied, "I want to just talk and daydream instead of sleeping. I think I'll get more rest that way over any other."

I agreed to do such a thing and laid on the flowers, inviting Sinclair to slot themself beside me. They hopped onto the small bed and plopped on their back as well. We looked at the split in the sky, gazing at the dots of light on the side of the Moon Kingdom.

I slid an arm under their neck to cradle it, and they welcomed it by running a thumb over my palm as we cuddled together.

"Do you think those stars are looking right back at us?" they inquired, and I had no genuine answer.

As a diversion, I asked them back, "Have you ever considered we're not really daydreaming if it's night?"

"It's day somewhere," they told me in their usual manner, and we both giggled as I stared at them from the side.

Somehow, I thought the sparkling dust in their hair fit perfectly—ethereal as they were.