Pen - Part 3

“How’d it go?”

Light flickered in front of Pen before assembling into a small body that could sit at the edge of the stars. Night had yet to choose a real form to settle on. Most of the time, they forgot to settle on one at all.

Pen looked up, pushing hair from their own face, feeling the tacky feel of stardust against their cheeks. They should have known that Night would be nearby. Rarely did they let Pen get far.  And when Pen’s emotions flowed from them, wrapping through the cosmos in echoing cries, Night reached out for them, grabbing on to whatever they could reach.  So of course, when Pen was leaving Death, Night took the opportunity to step forward.

“It went,” Pen responded.

Night jumped from the star, little golden ripples appearing beneath their feet as they bounded downwards to stand next to Pen. They were bigger now. Their body growing and stretching to try and match Pen’s height. Rarely did they stay in any one form for more than a few moments. Night struggled to keep hold of images still. Either that, or they enjoyed the fluidity of something new.

“Are you sad?”

It was the same question from Night. The one that had been on their lips from the day they first came to Pen. Are you sad.

“No, Night,” Pen said, their head hanging low. “I’m not sad.”

“You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Pen snapped, this time, angry at Night’s observation. Rubbing at their temples, Pen ground their teeth together. This wasn’t Night's fault. This was no one's fault but Pen’s own.  “Dad was fine,” Pen began. “Too fine. Always fine.”

Night looked confused. “That’s good, right?”

Reaching out, Pen pulled forward some of the stardust, shaping it into a settee for the two of them to sit. They pulled together some bits of floating rock, shaping them into cups and a teapot and with a flick of their fingers, Pen filled the kettle with milk from the depths of the horizon. 

Happily, Night sat beside them, humming and waiting for the conversation to begin. Sometimes, their conversations lasted decades. Falling off before being picked back up eons later, as if only a breath had passed.

“How do I do it, Night?” Pen finally spoke. “My father is willing to have an entire other baby in order to give me a life.”

“Oh, I love babies.”

Night didn’t know what a baby was. It was the response they gave when they were confused but wanted to feel like they were part of the world around them. Pen sometimes wondered if Night would ever be able to express what they wanted. What they felt.

“Maybe he just wants to go back and see my mom,” Pen sighed.

“Mom?” Night looked around, scooting around entirely to look on the other side of the sofa. “Where is your mom?”

Pen poured the tea for both of them. It smelled sweet this evening. With just a tinge of regret.  “Back home. She’s only allowed to come see father once a year.”

“What? Why?”

Something about the passage between their realms. Pen had never really understood it and had been angry that they had not been allowed to see their mother due to some rule that had been placed on their family by who knows what.  

“She could die if she comes here. Her body can’t be sustained in the sky.  When she does come here for her annual trip, there is some sort of ritual that has to be done. It takes all year to charge it.”

“But you said if there was a baby, your dad could go see her?”

Pen nodded. “If she is with child, they can come and go as they please. Until the baby is born.”

“So why have they not had another child?”

“Because they wanted to put all their focus on me.” It was yet another burden upon Pen’s shoulders and one they had been forced to carry, whether they wanted to or not.

“Maybe they should have a baby then. It sounds like that’s the happiest solution.”

Pen used to beg for a brother or a sister. Someone to play with. Their parents had always patted Pen’s head and told them to just wait and see what life brought. Life never brought a sibling. But it did bring Night.  It eased the pain of not having more family. Especially when life was all about play.

“No, Night. It’s not that simple. Having a child… that kid would grow up like me. Not having anyone to play with. Having to decide if they are going to give up everything to do this all over again.”

“But maybe we could find the baby a baby Night to play with.”

Pen handed them their tea, trying to smile. “They would be so lucky.” It wasn’t worth explaining to them.  Not that Pen could really understand it either. Pen’s own feelings about it all were far too volatile, and Night was the only pure thing around. Pen didn’t want to taint it.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Pen sighed. “I don’t know. I have been assured I do not need to make a decision. But… but he is so lonely, Night. He wanders the gardens by himself, with only the dead to speak to him. That is not a life. He needs companionship.”

“Doesn’t he have you?”

Pen flinched. There had been a time in Pen’s life that they had tried to be that for their father. But soon, Death had gently pushed them out of the house. Letting them know that in no uncertain circumstances, a child was never supposed to be the parents constant companion.

“I’m not sure what would make this right,” Pen finally whispered in response. 

“Do you want to take the mantle of death?”

“Of course I don’t. To be alone like that? To wander the world and take the ones who have died? I would only see my mother and father once a year for the rest of my life. I would have no one. I–”

Night’s hand wrapped around Pen’s. “You would have me. You would always have me.”

Pen looked down at their wrapped fingers. The weight of it in their palm. Right or wrong, Pen wanted to cling to that. Because they could not imagine a life without their Night.  They wished that they could give into that blatant hope that Night had.  To trust so willingly would be such a wonderful thing.

“Whatever you decide, old friend, I will be here.” Night’s head rested upon Pen’s shoulder. Pen watched as Night’s fingers flickered against his. Between slim and feminine and strong and masculine. The weight and feel was always the same, however. A constant that they could actually rely on. Not the uncertainty of their now future or the weight of their father's request. It left Pen wondering so much. Wanting so much. Maybe they could fall in love with Night. Keep them here.  Unlike their mother, Night would stay. Their future would not be once a year. Children that they had would not be without. Their world would be one of togetherness. Of–

Pen closed their eyes.

“Thanks, Night.”

“You’re welcome, Pen.”