I sat on the sofa, with Gibbs sitting quietly beside me. Neither of us spoke; we just sat there in silence.
"Arthur, I know I can't calmly urge you to let go right now, because I haven't been through what you have. As an onlooker, I have no right to lecture you, and it makes no sense for me to point fingers... I... I just want to urge you not to be impulsive. As for telling you not to be sad, I can't do that. It would make me sound too arrogant and too proud..."
I waited silently for Gibbs to finish. "Thank you, Gibbs. I'll pull myself together. Don't worry."
*Knock, knock, knock.* A knock came from the wooden door. I stood up and pulled it open to find White standing outside, carrying a few bottles of alcohol.
"Not welcome?... " White said to me with a cold face.
I froze for a moment, not expecting him to come see me. "... Ah... How could that be? Welcome, welcome." I turned sideways to make way for White. Once he stepped inside, I closed the door properly and followed him into the living room.
Gibbs hadn't expected White to show up either; she froze for a split second, staring blankly at him.
"Whew—this place of yours really hasn't changed at all." White glanced around the layout of my house and said to me.
I didn't speak. White plopped down right beside Gibbs, grabbed the cap of a bottle, popped it off with a gentle flick, and then produced three small cups from somewhere, pouring three small rounds.
Superpower Magic...
"Ah... Today's mess ruined our drinking. Arthur, Gibbs, keep me company for a couple of drinks." White's tone was very calm, as if nothing had happened today.
Gibbs and I looked at each other, unsure of what he was up to, but we still raised our glasses and clinked them with White.
"To our friendship." White tilted his head back and drained his glass in one gulp, watching as we finished our drinks before refilling them.
"To our past." He drank just as fast, leaving us no choice but to follow along.
"To our failed lives so far."
...
White drank seven glasses in a row, and the two bottles were completely empty.
"To this damned world!" White reached for more, but Gibbs and I hurriedly pinned his arms down. The cup slipped from his hand and smashed against the floor with a crisp sound, much like the shattered hearts of the three of us.
White didn't struggle; he just stared at us with bloodshot eyes.
No one spoke, yet the silence was deafening.
"Arthur... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things to you in front of all those people at the tavern." White gently pushed the two of us aside, sat up from the sofa, and said this.
"Don't be like that. I haven't even apologized to you for suddenly throwing a punch... I... I'm sorry." His sudden apology caught me off guard. I hadn't expected White to say anything so sentimental, and I scratched my head as I apologized back.
"Arthur... Back then... I really used to envy you," White lowered his head, changing the subject. "You were a genius since you were a kid, always staying miles ahead of me no matter what you did. But I just couldn't accept losing to you—what right did you have to do things I couldn't?"
"So I secretly told myself in my heart that I would definitely grow up to be an even better general than Arthur, that I would become the supreme commander second to none..." The soft afternoon sunlight shone on White's face, and a flash seemed to gleam across it like a dazzling diamond...
"Later on... I got a little brother. I stopped envying you after that, because I was admired too, needed just like you were. So this is what it feels like to be needed..." White had been parentless since childhood, but later on, he had somehow taken in a younger brother around Alice's age.
"To set a good example for Henry, I started forcing myself to do things I hated. I started trying to serve tea and water to people as a lowly waiter—the kind of work I used to look down on. I started learning to mend clothes like a woman instead of just buying a new piece whenever something tore. I started learning to grovel like a dog to please those nobles, just so I could trade for an extra piece of bread or even a single fruit... I'm so, so damn tired, I don't even know if I'm dead or alive..." White's voice grew louder and louder. Overwhelmed with emotion, he covered his face, and large tears slipped through his fingers, bursting against the wooden floor with a dull, muffled patter.
"Sometimes I really think about just ending it all. Back then I had no one to lean on, so dying wouldn't have mattered, but... but now I have someone who depends on me. I'm so, so tired every day, but... as soon as I come home, just seeing Henry's eyes makes it feel like I can forget all the unhappiness. One day he told me... that when he grows up, he wants to be a hero just like me, Arthur..."
"I want to give him everything I have, even if it's just a cotton jacket without holes; even if it's just leftovers that other people turn their noses up at; or maybe, just a tiny piece of candy. I want to appear by his side whenever he needs me, I want him to choose me first whenever he needs help... I used to laugh at you for spoiling Alice too much, Arthur. Now that I think about it, if I were in your shoes, I'd probably do the exact same thing." White raised his head to look at me, his gaze full of resolve. "I understand your pain because we're the same kind of people, except you got to enjoy more happiness than I did. But to you right now, those memories probably only add to your suffering... I know saying this is irresponsible and makes me look cold-blooded, but... have you ever thought about trying to put an end to your past, Arthur?..."
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, listening quietly. After a long moment of thought, I finally spoke: "It's not the same, White... I can't forget them. Every night when I close my eyes, I feel like Alice is right here in my arms, and Clara is sleeping beside me. You won't understand this feeling, you understand? Maybe someone else could do it, but when it comes to me, I just can't, do you understand?! Because that's just my nature! I'm a cowardly, indecisive wretch! If... if only Clara had never married me... She would have found a lover who would never let her get hurt! If only Alice weren't my daughter... She would definitely have had a qualified father to watch her grow up... instead of wasting away in an empty house like me! It's all my fault! If I had never appeared in their lives... If I had never possessed them... If I were the one who had died instead!!!"
I slammed the wine bottle fiercely against the ground, and blood-red wine splattered all over me. I stood there like a battered coward.
"But there are no damn ifs!!!" White bolted up from the sofa, lunged forward in a single bound, grabbed me savagely by the collar, and slammed me against the wall.
Gibbs desperately pulled at White's shoulders, but a purplish-red glow erupted from White's shoulders—the sign that Superpower Magic was being activated.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you still a damn man or not?! What right do you have to decide your family's lives?! What right do you have to feel inferior?! I honestly fucking hate the way you are right now, Arthur! Stop forcing your own will onto others, you asshole!"
"You weren't like this before! Where is the old Arthur gone?! Where the hell is that asshole who used to spend the whole afternoon practicing swordsmanship with me and always beat me black and blue?! Ask yourself, Arthur!... You've changed, you've grown so pathetic that Gibbs and I don't even recognize you anymore. Do you even recognize yourself anymore, Arthur?!"
White roared, putting more and more strength into his hands, making the wooden walls groan in strain.
Ending the past... It's easy enough to say... Don't I want that too?
Can the person I am right now even be considered "me"? If not, then where is the real "me"?
"Stop lying to yourself... Arthur." White lowered his hands, set me down on the floor, turned around to grab his coat from the sofa, and walked out the door without looking back.
Gibbs paced anxiously in place before finally leaving behind a sentence: "I'll come back tomorrow, Arthur," and hurried out after White.
Forgetting the past is equivalent to betrayal, and ending everything doesn't necessarily herald a new beginning.
Clara... what on earth am I supposed to do?
Bright sunlight beat down on my body, yet a chill ran deep through my heart, as if I had plunged into an icy abyss...
Outside the window, a small bird with golden-brown and white feathers stood upon a branch, gazing at the man inside the room with an inexpressible sorrow in its eyes.