The foreman was in a particularly benevolent mood today, it appeared. Well, he still tossed in a few less-than-kind words while he was lecturing Jevon for who knows what, but he ultimately relented and allowed him to head home for the evening— the first time since he returned from his overseas excursion.  

Despite his governmental position, Jevon was indifferent to opulence. His home was a diminutive and humble one that resided on the outskirts of the Common District. Of weather-beaten and overgrown stone, shaggy roofing, and a swerving cobbled path engirded by colorful and tangled flower beds. Situated on the edge of a seaside bluff, accompanied by the occasional squawking of passing gulls and the gentle hissing of waves as they licked up the sides of the crags and rocks. From his front porch, he could distinctly make out the ever-busy port, with its rows of moored ships and specks of sailors hulking cargo or fishermen advertising their latest catches. 

The ocean was tinged a deep scarlet shade in the dying luminance of the descending sun; and for a moment or two, he dithered at his doorstep, rapt. He would be lying if he claimed that the primary reason he settled down in this particular spot was not for the rich scenery. It provided a harmonious ambiance, one that was detached from the rest of this world and its unending babel.  

Jevon was then assailed by a whining zephyr and erupted in gooseflesh, and his trance shattered by frigid reality, and thus embarked inside. He pressed his back into the door to shut it and exhaled wearily, then proceeded to survey his surroundings. Like on the outside, the interior was equally compact and was shrouded in darkness, except for the few strands of sunlight that snuck in through the drapery.

It came furnished with basic commodities— a living area, though it contained only a sofa, some bookshelves, and a tea table. A kitchen, which he seldom employed; he usually dined out due to his lackluster cooking abilities. There was a short hallway that connected to a mostly empty closet, a restroom, and then lastly: his bedchamber, which was perhaps the only room within the space that he put to any use, in the end— and it was merely for resting... whenever he was blessed with the chance to, anyway. Otherwise, he spent the predominance of his time toiling away at the office.  

The landlady appeared to have tidied up for him while he was away, though. Usually, it was a mountain of disarray, barely navigable; it hardly suited his personality, in which he strove for elegance with everything, but in between his consuming career and an overall lack of motivation, he has admittedly let himself go. Thankfully, neither Xolani nor his colleagues have pressured him about it, for this unchanging state of misery, he was oddly content with. Perhaps he was merely afraid of confronting the war both within him and outward, comfortable with these delusions of mundanity and all-devouring loneliness. 

Well... he would have to thank the landlady next time they crossed paths, especially since she offered to look over... as if on cue, a chirp signaled his attention— within the murk, the creature had taken him by surprise, an anomalous mass that headbutted his leg. 

He lowered himself onto a knee and combed his fingers through her thick though exceedingly fluffy coat. She was solid black all over, a purring shadow with a set of piercing eyes. Their hue reminded him of the winter sky, a milky sort of blue. Thus, he named her “Aurora,” though he usually referred to her exclusively as either “Your Highness” or “princess” since in his professional opinion, she was nothing short of pure royalty. 

After refilling her bowls, Jevon expertly navigated the gloom, maneuvering down the hallway to his personal chambers. He lit the oil lamp that was situated on his writing desk, casting a dim radiance over the space. It seemed that the landlady had avoided tampering with his room, which he appreciated; however, it was just as much of a mare’s nest as he had left it. Bedclothes askew, tomes and scrolls strewn, wardrobe disorganized. Otherwise, it was exceptionally sparse; there was no distinguishable décor or traces of personality to be seen. Really, it was quite depressing, for one who endeavored to see beauty in all facets of life— even during his ugliest and the saddest moments. 

… He shucked off his outermost layers, leaving him in naught but his turtlenecked undershirt, and heaped them on the mattress, uncaring, his boots following thereafter. His bones ached with tiredness, impelling him to rest— but instead of throwing himself under the sheets, he seated himself at his writing desk, deciding that he ought to at least make an attempt to complete some of his remaining work. He rummaged through his bag and fished out a few stacks and brushed aside the clutter. Dunking his quill in the inkwell, Jevon did a brief once-over of the memorandum before going to draft his response.  

However, the instant his quill made contact, he was overcome with a wave of lethargy. He thumped his foot against the ground a few times, desperately sifting through his brain in a mad hunt for words, but all he found was that pestilential buzz— a buzz that seemed to siphon his knowledge and drive. Ultimately, he had no choice but to yield to his ennui and sat the quill aside, thrusting his face into his palms and letting out a frustrated, but mostly miserable, exhalation.  

Indeed, he has been foolishly and steadfastly clinging to a fallacy of equanimity. He thought that he could outrun those ravenous flames— thought that he could muffle the sounds of their cries— thought that he could unfetter himself from his own strangling guilt and function as a true and cherished member of this community. He managed to escape the villainous clutches of that eternal night and entered a paradise of vibrancy and unflagging cheer following the strong back of a boy who inveigled him with promises of happiness and idyllicism, neither impossibilities nor products of desperate fantasies.  

But then it was stolen— stolen by demons of hate and vindictive temptations. If Jevon could, he would’ve shouldered the burden of his grief alone— he would have offered himself to those fires of despair unhesitatingly if he thought he could have saved him. But even in his avid self-destruction; he was valueless, unfinished, and void; he had nothing to give in exchange.

He was an interloper, an anomaly in this world— a soulless thespian trying to play the part of a human when he hadn’t the talent nor the right to replicate their beautiful monstrosity; their sincerities.

… Then, he spotted something through the gaps in his fingers— something he had disregarded earlier while clearing his desk. He reached for it as it balanced itself on the edge, and brought it underneath the lamplight to scrutinize it. It was a finished letter— but not an official one, rather... It was addressed to the Crown Prince, a survivor among the dozens he had scrapped, some crumpled up outside of the nearby bin from when he missed his shot. 

Immediately, he planned to add it to the ever-growing trash heap; however, it was as if something had possessed him, invisible shackles rendering his arms immovable. And unbiddenly, his eyes moved from word to word; it was messily written, without a semblance of his usual eloquence to be found, and there were numerous splotches, signifying shaky hands. But it was mostly intelligible, if not a bit circumlocutory.  

To my treasured friend:

How have you been recently? Well, I suppose that’s not exactly the best question to ask. Sorry. 

Perhaps it would be wiser to talk about myself... I mean, not that I have a lot I wish to say. I’m not as adventurous as I would like to be... not like you were, anyway. 

I’m still trying to figure out how to take the reins on my own life since I was comfortable with just following your intuition. But I’m an adult now— I can’t have you coddling me anymore, can I?  

That’s what El said, anyway... though her wording was a bit... er, crude. It’s a little surreal getting lectured by someone who is nearly half your size... I would appreciate it if you didn’t relay this to her— you know how short-tempered she can be. Hah, short-tempered.

By the way, she wrote to me recently— you’ve been receiving letters from her too, right? Whenever you can, please find the time to respond to her. She has been rather worried... well, all of us have.  

Xolani took me shopping again the other day... Admittedly, I do not harbor the same... eye for fashion as they do— I honestly don’t know what looks best on me... but I have resigned myself to trusting their word. 

I just wish they wouldn’t blow so much money on me, though— I don’t believe I’m very deserving of it, and every time I’ve attempted to repay them, they would shoot me down and say something along the lines of:  

“Jevon, my little honeycomb, my tender blossom, you needn’t worry about a thing— is it not Auntie Xolani’s job to ensure that all of their little goslings are taken care of, hm?”  

But I suppose that’s just the kind of person they are... someone who is loyal and devoted to their friends. Don’t get me wrong; I find it very admirable, if not brave... something that I could only aspire to replicate.  

Ah, I recently brought a stray into my home. I found her while I was on my way back from the office— the poor thing had injured her leg; she wouldn’t be able to protect herself in such a state, so I only intended to nurse her back to health initially... but she ended up taking a liking to me.  

She’s quite a beauty— pure black fur and a pair of beautiful blue eyes. I decided to name her “Aurora”, though she usually only responds if I humble myself and roll out a red carpet for her... Haha.  

Once again, on cue, Aurora had sauntered into the room and sprung onto his lap, and he momentarily paused to scratch her ear. When Jevon returned, he noticed he was approaching the climax, for his past self seemed to acknowledge its length. 

Forgive me, I didn’t mean to rattle on. 

My friend, I have so many regrets. 

I once told you that I would follow you anywhere. Through driving rain or sweltering flames, I vowed that I would repay the endless kindness and patience you have shown me since the day I fell into your arms.

Yes, I should have pursued you to the very edge of the earth. But instead, I allowed my fears and self-doubt overrule my better judgment. I became completely rooted.

And I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for abandoning you, my beloved friend… My savior. My light. 

I could bow my head for an eternity but I will never be able to wholly repent for the heartbreak I must have caused you when I refused to take your hand back then… And I know that these apologies must sound horrifically hollow… even though I swore that I would become a better man for you. A man… worthy of loving you.

Truly, I really am no more than a lousy sycophant looking for undeserved redemption.

But I had a comforting thought recently.

No matter how many seas and deserts span between us, we still see the same sky. The same moon.  

In the past, I used to spurn the moon.  

But now, as I gaze upon it... I wonder if you are searching for me within it.  

With eternal love, your little star. 

Aurora hopped away when he maneuvered out of his chair— the letter clutched firmly against his breast. Jevon unclicked the door leading to the small veranda, the chill of the night winnowing through his hair, the paper spasming briefly. He approached the parapet and settled his unoccupied hand upon it, his eyes heading moonward. It was round and clear tonight— an argent and mesmerizing shade of silver.  

He indeed loathed the moonlight once upon a time— for its searing, unavoidable presence in the night only harkened memories of torturesome loneliness— endless days prisoned by a dense— unflagging darkness. 

Though it simultaneously felt like something akin to an old friend— an omnipresent echo of the bygone divinities he has long since abandoned. 

Whenever his battle has taken him— was his prince looking upon this sight as well?