Intention Man (title in progress)

Unanswered

Long, twisted hedges sprung up from cracked pots that lined the stone path around the museum. They hadn't been able to go in—well, Lev hadn't asked if they could go in, but he assumed it was probably closed and he didn't wish to ask. He glanced over at Zora. Her face was lifted to the night sky—perhaps she was letting the stars wash over her sort of like Lev let petals fall on him. Except the stars were ever constant in their place of the universe.

"I know you have more questions rolling around in that noggin, Lev." He looked down to see that she had stopped in the middle of the path. "The only way you are going to receive the answers to them is by asking."

"Your answers aren't satisfactory." He'd rather not have answers than unsatisfactory ones. The latter just made things more frustrating.

Zora shrugged and walked on. "You are free to take everything as you wish, I suppose."

Rarely was Lev given permission to be himself. It was refreshing and almost washed away all the infuriating things Zora had done and said since he'd met her.

"Nonetheless, you are also free to choose whether or not you are going to accept my help."

"Help?" Lev massaged his forehead. Now he was repeating things just like Zora.

"To get home, of course."

"You said we don't know if I can't get home or not!" He felt as if he was going in circles—it was like a mind game, and it was not pleasant. A fire began burning in his chest. That was also unpleasant—it was anger. "I don't need your help." Away he turned, back toward the museum. He didn't bother to see if Zora was following him. She probably wasn't and he really didn't care, or, at least, that's what he told himself. What he really needed was time alone, away from this strange woman he'd met who only succeeded in making things worse than they were. That was quite a feat considering he'd died—or almost died...that still wasn't entirely clear yet and it looked more and more like it wasn't ever going to become clear because nobody had the answers he desired and he didn't know what to do about it.

He rounded the side of the museum and took a hedge path to the right. He didn't know where he was going or what he would find or what he would do and he was exhausted, but the fire in him was burning and he had to figure out how to put it out otherwise he might just very explode and nobody wanted that to happen except, maybe, Lev. He felt the need to explode. But he'd never done so in his life and he didn't rightly know how to, he just knew he needed to.

The path diverged into a forest of sorts. Lanterns continued lighting the now dirt path and Lev continued down it, heart thrumming, mind racing, breath ragged. Another path further into the forest where the trees dipped down to form a tunnel. At the end was a bench. Lev collapsed on it, buried his head in his hands, grabbed at his hair, and moaned. He was sick of this. Of not knowing or understanding. He was sick of trying to find answers and not getting any. He wanted everything to just end or be made clear—he didn't care which one. He missed Serafina. Hot tears wet his cheeks and dripped upon his lips, leaving traces of watery salt. His shoulders shook and he wept. It seemed he couldn't do enough of that lately. His face burned and his nose ran and his eyes leaked and his heart—his heart was just full of so much pain.

This went on—the tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard Lev tried to stop them. He didn't rightly want them to stop either. He had to get it out of his system—maybe then everything would be better and clearer. Weariness and cold settled upon him and a pair of arms wrapped around his midsection that was drenched with his sadness. A warm embrace seeped through the chill caused by the lack of sun and his wet shirt. A head laid itself on his shoulder and Lev's neck was tickled by soft hair. And yet he continued to let grief pour out of him.The arms never moved, neither did the head, and no words were said. It was just a silent forest and Lev's muffled sobs.