Der Dunkle Tag
It wasn't a coincidence that Nehmen asked the sunsetter about the day of the year on that morning. A dark, restless feeling had been following him since he had woken up. Something bad was about to happen. Or had something bad already happened?Without looking up the sunsetter answered: “It's 27.4.632.”
“Oh.” It was der Dunkle Tag. Nehmen's personal Dark Day. The day on which his only love jumped down the drain.
Seeing Nehmen's expression turn miserable, the sunsetter asked: “Something wrong?” When the ginger said nothing, the sunsetter dipped his head to the side. “I know that it's discouraged to have parties on this day. Is that what's bothering you, party beast?”
Surprised, Nehmen chuckled. “They're still holding onto that custom?”
The sunsetter shrugged. “Don't know. I heard it mentioned years ago. Care to tell me why today's not a party day?”
“It's… a sad day. An anniversary.”
“Of what?”
Saying it came surprisingly easy. Startlingly easy, even. “On this day the first Neverhoodian ever jumped down the drain.” Nehmen braced himself for an attack of heartache. None came. Just a sort of dull feeling.
“I see,” the sunsetter drawled, putting the pieces together in his head. He looked at the ginger, searching. “Hope it doesn't get you down after all these years, Nehmen.”
This time it was Nehmen's turn to shrug. Then he smiled, and he walked away. As he walked he could feel the smile falling away from his lips. Der Dunkle Tag. Had he even remembered it last year? He probably hadn't. He was a dummkopf.
But soon his thoughts were dispersed when he walked into a group of friends and together they played Cite. Nehmen wasn't very strong in the memory department, but he was a natural actor, so his short excerpts from the Hall of Records had everyone laughing and clutching at their bellies. He was declared the winner when he played the scene of “You are supposed to be squashed!” in a shrill indignant voice, and he got to choose the next game.
“Let's see, let's see…” he teased his impatient friends, pretending to be thinking hard. In truth, he knew exactly what he wanted to play. “So we played Cite, and it turned out pretty good, sooooo let's have an encore! Re-cite!”
“Aww, Recite is lame,” a Hoodian said, disappointed. “Come on guys, we can find a better game elsewhere.” Most of the group said their goodbyes, leaving Nehmen and one other Neverhoodian. Together these two sifted through the Neverhood, looking for others who would be willing to join them in a game of Recite. To Nehmen's joy his brother Krevel came along, insisting however that he wouldn't play, just listen. Finally the new group settled in the Whale's Mouth and the reciting began.
“Under the blooming apple tree, I sold you and you sold me,” someone recited in a small, lilting voice.
“Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk to you again,” another sang. Normally Nehmen would admonish them for being cheerless, but today it was fitting. After all, he had started the reciting game because he, too, wanted to throw off some of the weight on his mind. Nothing like pretending that the poem you improvised on spot was actually some long-forgotten master.
He felt no stage fright as he walked in front of the Neverhoodians. Nobody would ever know that what he said was actually his own poetry, a private piece of himself. He had done it a thousand times.
“A sunless day. By What's-his-name-a-ma-bob.” That gained him a few laughs. Good. If they were expecting comedy, they would definitely fail to catch the real meaning of his words.
“Today is a sunless day.
I held your hand, you walked away.
I held your hand, you pushed me off,
expecting me to brush it off.”
Alright, not too shabby for keeping the meter and rhymes where they should be.
“Tonight comes a moonless night.
A night on which I cry with fright,
a night that splits my heart in two.
I loved you. Did you love me, too?”
His audience was frowning, expecting the joke. There was no joke. Nehmen shortly considered putting one in, but he decided against it. It would just throw him off his stride.
“Tomorrow comes another day.
I'll see you again walk away.
I'll see you still in my mind's eye,
a sad and sunless lullaby.”
That was it, three verses. He could end it now. But more words pushed onto his tongue, uninvited.
“Tomorrow comes another day.
A day where – yet again – I hold my head in my hands,
hide my heart in my chest,
and look back, always look back.”
The verse was broken. The rhyme was broken. Nehmen was staring somewhere over his audience's heads, unconsciously wringing his hands.
“What will tomorrow bring to me?
Only more tears, more hidden tears.
The one I loved is dead and gone,
she's far away, a wife and mum.
My own blood shuns me,
my own flesh left me,
they are all gone and happy in their own right.
And I am left behind, with one last friend, who will, one day, also...”
His throat grew so tight that he couldn't speak. His tempo faltered, and his eyes met his listeners'. What he saw was shock, and surprise, and…
Shit, they knew. Shit, shit, shit, they knew. His façade was broken and they had realised that the poem was his, and he had forced it onto them without their knowledge or permission. He stuttered something and left in a hurry. Just out of the Whale's Mouth he realised that there were tears of embarrassment in his eyes. He rubbed at them angrily. Well done, Nehmen. Well done.
Seconds later Krevel caught up with him and fell into stride a step behind him. He didn't ask anything and Nehmen was grateful for that.
At a whim he bolted to catch the Coded Door just as a pair of Hoodians were leaving it, and he and Krevel slipped inside. Leaning against the door Nehmen finally felt some sort of security. Opening the Coded Room from outside took ages. They were safe for now.
He looked up and met Krevel's eyes. The geologist seemed worried.
“That was a slip-up, wasn't it?” he asked.
Nehmen nodded shortly. Krevel nodded back. He hesitated.
“If there's anything I can do to help… just say the word.”
“I need a hug,” Nehmen replied instantly. The look his brother gave him was staggered, but he recovered quickly and stepped close. Nehmen wrapped his arms around Krevel's middle possessively, resting his head on his shoulder. This was the only person left to him. The only one who never left him, who had always been there for him. Caline had left, and Alan had left, and Nike had left, but Krevel had stayed.
The geologist shifted uncomfortably. Nehmen let go of him, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. “Technically you're a cheat, though.”
Krevel raised his brows, a picture of confusion. And he seemed… hurt? Shit.
“I mean-” Nehmen hurried to clarify, “you always watch us play Recite, but you never participate. It's kinda unfair. Everyone has to get their turn in Recite. If they don't, it's… you know. Unfair to the ones who actually play.”
Krevel shrugged, leaning against the railing.
“Actually,” Nehmen carried on, “you don't recite anything. Ever. I've been your brother for five hundred years and I haven't heard you say a poem in my life.”
“I'm not good at reciting,” Krevel mumbled.
“You're awesome at storytelling,” Nehmen countered, “and that isn't so different. You just put more… rhythm into the words. Like so. Under the blooming apple tree, I sold you and you sold me,” he recited.
Krevel looked slightly uncomfortable as Nehmen rubbed his chin and eyed his brother speculatively. Something occurred to him.
“Say, Klatschmohn… Have you ever shared your poetry with anyone?”
“...No. I haven't.”
“Huh. That's weird. 'Cause, you totally are the poet type, with that sad theatre in your head,” he gestured vaguely.
Krevel snorted, staring at him incredulously.
“You know what I mean!” Nehmen glowered. “You've got to make a lot of poems, don't even try to convince me otherwise. Why do you keep them bottled up?” He gasped showily. “Is it because they're about someone? Your special piece of klay? Is it that? Oh brother, I'm so happy for you!” He threw his arms around Krevel quickly, and let go even quicker. “Is it a Neverhoodian? No! Let me guess. It's Kalikat, isn't it? You've been pretty close and – of course you can't tell him, because he's taken, obviously!”
Krevel was shaking his head. Nehmen stopped babbling just in time to hear: “There's nobody. I don't have a special piece of klay.” The geologist's tone was firm, and pained.
“You're lying.” Nehmen's voice was soft. He hated how soft it was. “You don't have to lie to me about this. If you love someone, you should go and be happy with him. Don't worry about… me.”
As he hung his head, Krevel took him by the shoulders. “There is no one,” he repeated stubbornly. “You're my brother and I'm going to stay with you.” Pulling Nehmen into a hug, he added: “Forever.”
“Careful with those forevers,” Nehmen said with a voice so tight that he almost choked on it.
“For ever,” Krevel repeated, and there was a sort of grim conviction in it that made Nehmen's chest warm and legs shaky.
“Okay,” he agreed tremulously, holding tight onto his brother's form. It reminded him of the marriage vow they had practised with Caline just a few days before she jumped down the drain. Forever. Come to think of it, it did sound a lot like the marriage vow. Nehmen chuckled.
“Am I supposed to kiss you now?”
Pressed close at they were, Nehmen couldn't help noticing that Krevel's entire body tensed. “Not really,” his brother mumbled.
Certain that he had offended Krevel, Nehmen pulled away. “Hey bro, it's cool, I mean...” He tugged at his stem. “I mean…”
He didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to leave. Another part wanted to get back into that embrace, to reassure itself that there was still a place where he was loved and wanted. He was a mess. And the silence grew longer.
He took Krevel's hands to squeeze them before he said goodbye. Instead he leaned over and pecked Krevel on the cheek. Except Neverhoodians don't really have cheeks. So he kissed the place above his lips instead.
He was surprised at the crushing squeeze Krevel's hands gave, a sort of involuntary spasm. Pulling back he caught his brother's expression. It was startled but closing up rapidly. There was something else in it, but it passed too quickly. Krevel heaved a deep sigh and hugged Nehmen one last time, hiding his face away from his brother's view.
“I know that the place in your heart is still taken up by Caline. But if you could, little by little, free that place for someone else, I'd be so happy.”
A piece of Nehmen's poem flashed through his mind: “look back, always look back”.
“I wish that you could understand that she isn't the only one who can bring you true happiness. But until you understand that, and even after that… I'll be here. You can fall back on me, and I'll try to...”
He fell silent as Nehmen turned his head and kissed the side of Krevel's head.
“...Nehmen?”
The ginger's mind was reeling. Too many things were coming back to him at once, spurred by the gentle, certain, and aching tone of Krevel's voice. “I don't have a special piece of klay.” “You're lying.” “I'm going to stay with you.” “I know that the place in your heart is still taken up by Caline.”
“Oh my Quater,” he whispered against the side of Krevel's skull.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing. I'm just utterly stupid. I… I can't believe myself.”
“...What do you mean?”
The question was so tentative and neutral, and Nehmen's head was such a mess that he only thought of one thing. He cupped the back of Krevel's head and kissed him, this time properly, on the lips.
The Hoodian gasped… and melted, returning the kiss.
Eyes screwed shut Nehmen rested his forehead against Krevel, breathing hard. “I can't believe it,” he repeated. “All this time… I've been your special piece of klay?”
“Not all this time,” Krevel uttered, barely audible.
“Then how long?”
“Some… two hundred years? Two hundred and thirty.”
A helpless laughter bubbled up from Nehmen's chest. The sort of laughter that can't decide whether it's laughing or crying, and is actually both. “And here I've been worried, worried sick… that once everyone left, you'd go next. I'd lose you, too, and I'd be alone. When in truth I was just too stupid to realise…!”
He felt Krevel touch his cheek and wipe something away. He didn't open his tightly shut eyes. Instead, he held on, and fought the urge to cry by taking deep, shuddering breaths.
“...Read me a book,” Krevel said softly. Nehmen was about to be confused when the Hoodian continued, and the cadence and the rhythm told Nehmen that he was reciting.
“Sing me a song.
Tell me of what should be right and what wrong.
Show me the sky
and tell me why
I feel completely, entirely alone.”
Nehmen was struck with the words when Krevel added, so quietly that it was barely above a whisper:
“What most scares me
's that I can't see
I'm not completely, entirely alone.”
“Klatschmohn,” Nehmen moaned, burying his face against Krevel's shoulder, finding it insufficient, and rolling his head up to kiss him again. The response was immediate.
In the middle of the kiss Nehmen chanced cracking one eye open. Krevel was flushed deep red, green eyes half-lidded and so full of unchecked desire that Nehmen had to break the kiss and pause for breath.
It was then that he heard the Coded Door being decoded.
“Scheisse,” he breathed sharply, looking Krevel in the eye. The geologist seemed equally rattled, but he pulled himself together remarkably fast. With just a few deep breaths, the blush receded from his face and his expression settled into calmness.
“It's alright,” he told Nehmen. “Pretend I've just offended you by talking shit about your improvisation skills. In fact, your vocabulary is horribly insufficient.”
“What?” Nehmen bristled. At that moment the last symbol was dialled and the Coded Door sprang open.
“There you are!” a frustrated Neverhoodian called out. Nehmen recognised the guy who had searched the Neverhood with him, looking for people who might be willing to play Recite. “You ran off on us! Not nice man, not nice at all.”
Nehmen grimaced. “Don't talk to me, pal, my brother's already chewed me out real good here. He's like, you can't rhyme off with off!” He made a great impression of glaring Krevel down, even though it sent sparks through him. He was a natural actor, after all.
“Well, you can,” Krevel shrugged, “but it's dastardly and it corrupts the poem as a whole.” He was acting his part wonderfully, too. Every bit the annoyed brother.
“Alright, alright,” the Neverhoodian stopped them before they could really go at it. “I get it. Now why don't you get out of here and let's… I don't know. Let's play another game. Like… catch. That should be fairly easy, okay? No rule breaking.”
Nehmen grunted something, shooting Krevel a dirty look before waltzing out of the Coded Room.
They played catch, and they played pig-in-the-middle, and all the while Nehmen kept catching Krevel with this dumb smile on his face. It made him want to smile, too. In the end they were called out on it and asked if it was an inside joke. Krevel replied that it was and he gave Nehmen a big wink, which the ginger returned, heart fluttering.
One thought that kept returning to him was: What was going to happen in the evening?
They spent the day playing and partying. Nehmen surprised his fellow Neverhoodians by stating that since there was no reason too silly to throw a party on the Neverhood, he would throw a party because it was the day it was. Not many remembered what day it was, but they jumped at the opportunity nonetheless. There was music, there was dancing, and there was some drinking. To his own surprise Nehmen did not feel like getting drunk on this day. It was strange, because he always got drunk on der Dunkle Tag, but at the same time it wasn't strange at all. If you get me.
When evening drew close, Krevel excused himself from the party. Nehmen tagged along. They washed in the fountain at the Public Park and they walked to the Weasel Arena in silence, punctuated only by Krevel's yawning.
“Okay, here's the deal,” the geologist announced as soon as the door closed behind them. “I'm dead tired. I'm sorry but- yaaaawn -even if we tried anything, I would be too groggy to reciprocate or enjoy properly. So I suggest- yaawn -that we just lie down and get some sleep. And what's tomorrow is tomorrow.”
Nehmen wasn't tired. He was wound up and excited, but he wasn't about to spoil their first time by being an impatient bastard.
“Deal,” he agreed.
“Good,” Krevel nodded. “Take off your boots.” Nehmen half expected some sort of a fetish request, but then remembered that Krevel merely didn't tolerate shoes in bed. The ginger chastised himself for falling into old habits and he climbed in next to Krevel.
The geologist scooted downward so that he could rest his cheek against Nehmen's clavicle, and threw an arm over his middle, pulling him closer.
Nehmen was awake long after Krevel started breathing deeply.
One of the many things he thought about was renaming der Dunkle Tag to der Helle Tag. The Light Day.
