When will the Sun die?

A Story by Thalassa

Even darkness has light, you just aren't looking closely enough.

In her sunlit room, she had all the suns she could ever possess. Ardor flared in her eyes, as she continuously cupped light in her hands, with sweaty palms hitting each fingertip. Her eyebrows furrowed as beads of sweat formed from her concentration. With tongue stuck out and apparent sloven, she continued without hesitation.

He always knew that she would cup hundreds and thousands of suns for him.

It was too soon, Sam’s demise rather. Since then, Sol's life unraveled into irony. She mourned during Easter, drank coffee in the evening, and slept in the morning. The routine shifted around a bit, but it would always return to the same beginning: staring aimlessly. She never took demise as a friend, for she always feared loneliness. Being perpetually sent to either a place of a perceptible absence of light or a place with the lingering smell of dampened soil, was an ideology she lived by. Every second ticked and in that very miniscule span of intervals, she dreaded the inevitability of oblivion. She hated it.

One day, as Sol firmly held his portrait in her pale hands, a tear escaped from her eye. Observing her room under a blurred impression, she wished that she lost the vividness of her sight because she knew that once the last tear dropped, she was back to the clarity of reality without Sam. She envisioned him all strapped in his car until the arson beckoned, and swallowed them whole. His skin burnt into crisp as the flames gashed each layer, leaving nothing but crumpled particles underneath the car’s rim. She tried blinking the vision away but the words “arson”, and “Sam’s dead”, coincided into a flurry of emotions; one that she never knew she could feel.

Ever since Sam died, Sol fell into the hole of admiration for cosmic bodies; specifically the sun. She believed that the universe brought upon abstracts that would aid people of their misfortune and questions. In this, she found peace knowing that the arson was Sam’s abstract. She knew that she had to figure out what her abstract was before it came to her.

With every turn of page in her alchemy book, the more Sol felt the presence of her thirst as she yearned for answers. According to her book, the sun is associated with gold, as it is the most grandeur element in terms of its perfection. The most alluring objects were always the most catastrophic. She understood this when she finally grasped the nature of fire. The nature of fire is not to burn other objects but rather to serve as light for those lost in the dark. Sam was in the dark, she knew that, and so the universe brought him fire. Or so she thought.

Atlas, Sam's brother, approached Sol who was still invested in the alchemy book that she borrowed from her library.

"Hey. Just wanted to check up on you." He gave Sol a sympathetic smile.

"I'm doing good, but not as good I guess. I hope you're doing well." She returned a smile, while fidgeting the page edges of the book.

"I am. He would want me to be doing well." He looked down on his shoes.

Atlas was also looking for his abstract. He reminded Sol of ice cubes in a tall glass of lemonade, snow against the curb, and a quick gush of wind in the early morning. He was the complete opposite of Sam, for he knew where he wanted to head and where he was going. Sam was clueless. That was not the only difference between them though, Sam was known for following orders while Atlas created his own rules to follow. He borrows but then incorporates it into something that is new and innovative, just like how the moon borrows light from the sun.

Sol and Atlas became as compact as white gold over the days that have gone by. Even the simplest invitations of coffee and playing video games promoted a development in understanding each other’s individuality. He wasn’t as good as Sam in Mario Kart but he exerted enough effort to try and to become as expert as Sam was. Sol was aware that he would never be capable enough to replace Sam but it was in the little joys that made her more expectant to see Sam again.

Sol didn’t expect her abstract to visit her today.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Sol put on her gold necklace. She thought of looking at least close to impeccability today because the universe told her so. Atlas was meeting her today for another rendezvous. But this time, unlike their other meetings, he said that she had to wear a blindfold. Once they were inside the car, he wrapped the blindfold delicately on her eyelids and buckled her seat in. Feeling the movement of the car turn sideways, her stomach churned. She could sense the heat from the sunlight that gave her ease.

Atlas helped Sol out of the car, and grasped her arm towards the direction he intended her to go to. The breeze was light and cool that it tickled the hairs of her nape. She smiled at the familiar feeling of home, like Sam was there right beside her.

“I’m not removing the blindfold just yet. I want you to experience the darkness, and to bask in its light. Even darkness has light, you just aren’t looking closely enough.” He approached her and stood by Sol.

“I remember you saying that you tried capturing all the suns in your room because you knew that it would make Sam the happiest. But you didn’t have to do that, you never had to.” He placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Ever since I met you, you exuded this aura of affability, and I was undoubtedly drawn to that. Not to mention, I’m sure Sam was too. But you see, over the course of our friendship, I realized something.” He intricately drew circles on her back.

“You were always in the light that you grew distant from the night. You never notice that you actually corrode in broad daylight because that’s when you remember him. I want to set you free from his grasp.” He sighed and clutched the cloth of her shirt.

“Cup hundreds and thousands of darkness for me, won’t you?” He pushed her. She never realized that she was standing on top of a cliff, and that he baited her.

He was her abstract and she understood it too late.

She also came to conclude that he too baited Sam, and that he set his car on fire. Sam was never lost; he just fell into the trap of Atlas. As she fell into her soon eternal slumber, she discerned that everything she knew of were lies. The universe doesn’t give signs, only humans do; to the extent of their immorality. Now, she was off to perpetual banishment into the darkness.