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located in USA, IL, Chicago, a part of A Kind of Demotic, one of the many universes on RPG.

USA, IL, Chicago

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I’d been expecting a lot of things. I always expect a lot of things because I read too much into the situation and overanalyze every little detail that presents itself. I’d been expecting a warm reunion with smiles. I’d been expecting a whole ton of yelling and screaming. I don’t know exactly what I’d been expecting now that I think about it because when he’d taken hold of my hand so carefully my thoughts had been blown aside and everything I had concentrated on the heat of his hand against my own. After that my expectations dwindled down a little and coherent thought meant less to me than it always had and I knew soon after it would mean just as much as always. But for those few moment all that existed was the fact that he was holding my hand and he wasn’t doing anything to hurt me. I was waiting for it – the snap in his mind when all the connections finally fell into place – but for now that didn’t matter. I had been preparing myself for it for the past year and anything he did would be fine.

When he spoke I didn’t know what to say for everything I had to say was some mixture of unknown words and past desires. The sentences and phrases and paragraphs that were forming were nothing but nonsense and garbled shit that would make me sound fragmented in my speech. None of it would make any sense to someone as sophisticated as him. It would all be incomprehensible in the worst of ways and any effort I could ever make to make it comprehensible would be immediate failures. I was pained in that way because I had never once had any trouble speaking to him like he was best friend, my other half. In ways he still was. When I lost him I lost all that spontaneous energy and all the will to bother changing myself from this over thinking blob of wasted space on the planet. My spot here is useless but I still use it up and breathe my share of oxygen like my parents told me to do from the day I was born.

“Keep on living Jules. Even if people tell you not to, even if you don’t see a reason and the light at the end of the tunnel blinks out. Keep living because I worry that you’ll quit. You’ve never been a fighter Jules. Fight for life.”

My mother had been a fine woman full of Japanese pride and deeply rooted in the culture of her people. She was sturdy and stable and wonderfully kind though strict with discipline. She always made us concentrate of homework and education but made sure that we had a good family dynamic with each other. She smelled like wild flowers and apple slices and always had the softest smile of her face like everything made her happy – even her eyes smiled. When she came down with that heart condition that same woman prevailed even when her body slowly started to fail her. She fought to the bitter end and right before she shut her eyes she told me those words; the last ones she would ever say. Everyone had received their own but mine were more of a request then parting words from a mother to her son. She had said them as if she were going to get out of the bed and take us to the amusement park – yet her hand had been so frail in mine. I almost quit then. It’s just the repetition of her words in the carven of my thoughts that keeps me from falling.

That and the hope that maybe he’ll forgive me.

My chances are very low.

And that’s obvious the instant his fist connects with my face. I can’t say I’m surprised because really I’m not but anyone would have that initial shock when knuckles connect with your cheek bone. My feet stumble just slightly until my back braces against the wall. Instantly my hand comes up to rub the spot and I can feel that my face isn’t registering pain or anger or shock but that pure, untainted amusement he always makes me feel. I almost want to laugh because it’s been so long since I’ve managed to be around someone as impulsive as Milo. Someone who feels emotions in such a raw state that the only way to express them is through action. I love that about him. I love a lot of things about him. It wasn’t until I saw someone come up behind and call him name that I did the one thing I shouldn’t have. I laughed.

“I missed you Milo,” I forced out in a pocket of air.