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Professor Neolith had discovered quite a number of things throughout his career.
Many of those things were wondrous, fantastical, boggling of the mind. The exact kind of things that drove him to pursue his field, that had instilled and inspired that fascination of discovery within him when he wore a younger moth’s wings, and spurred him to continue discovering. There were still so many mysteries to solve, so much much to uncover. He was still eagerly anticipating the day when just one of the artifacts would be retrieved, and then more, and then, perhaps, the Everlasting Sapling itself.
But so much of the things that Neo discovered were just that: things. Great things, yes, even amazing things if he were to allow himself to get a bit excited, but still things. Things that couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk, couldn’t live. Of course the fact that those things couldn’t perform any of those actions was part of the reason he was so intrigued by them, but no matter how much he studied or entreated, he would never be able to get an artifact to explain itself.
Just recently, Professor Neolith had discovered something that, simply on a fundamental level, was far greater than anything else he could unearth: he had found someone.
It was supposed to be a simple field research mission. Instead, when Neo returned to Defiant Root, in tow was a quite battered, weary, but unbeaten beetle.
It was as if he had fallen from the sky.
He claimed to have hailed from the North.
And he was now someone Neo liked to consider his friend.
The beetle’s name was Kabbu. And he was strong, chivalrous, and very, very kind.
In the, splinters, what was it, maybe eight days since Neo had found him, Kabbu had been nothing but those things, to Neo, and to anyone else who had the pleasure of meeting him. Isau, Mayor Emmet, anyone and everyone who had been curious about the new arrival had sung the beetle’s praises after exiting from his room in Isau’s clinic.
Neo found him, to try and condense many, many words into one, remarkable. How he was able to survive in the Lost Sands until Neo had stumbled upon him, how he maintained so steadfastly his commitment to benevolence and honor despite all the pain he must be in. Even knowing him for just a few short days, Neo wouldn’t hesitate to say that Kabbu is a bug to mold oneself after.
He visited the beetle most every day. He had it on good authority, from Isau, that he seemed happiest in the hours during and after Neo would stop by. Often what was intended as a quick stop would become quite the departure, as the two would get lost discussing books they’d both indulged in. Neo was surprised to find out how much of Bugarian literature had made the trek northern. He was delighted to find out that Kabbu loved many of the classics, too. Oftentime, before either of them knew it, their talks would carry on into the wee hours of the night, the two of them only realizing so when Kabbu would shiver as the desert winds blew in from the gaping window. Neo always fetched him another blanket, and closed the window behind him.
The professor would trundle home, knowing he was now far behind the pace he set for himself on his studies. But he didn’t mind. He never minded. He’d make up for time. He never once thought to call it “lost” time, because time spent with a bug of Kabbu’s caliber could never be considered lost.
With those studies, his duties for Queen Elizant II, and everything else, Neo was quite the busy bug. But, even still, he meditated on wispy strands of ideas of forming a book club with Kabbu.
If nothing else, to give the poor bug something to do.
Isau still didn’t want him to leave yet. “I can’t throw him back out there like that,” she would say. And so Kabbu was to stay, cooped up in the recovery room of her clinic. Kabbu never said a word about it, especially not a bad one, but Neo could tell that the beetle was growing restless. He could stand now, something that Isau knew very well by now as he constantly used it as a bargaining chip, and often Neo would walk in on him pacing about the perimeter of his room like a cable car in the Golden Hills.
Neo had begun to make it a point to stow away time each day to drop by, no matter how busy he was. Not only to see him, but to track progress on his recovery, as Isau would provide him with updates each passing day. He was deeply and heavily invested in the beetle’s wellbeing, and he anticipated the day when Kabbu would be cleared to leave the clinic just as much if not more than the day that the Everlasting Sapling would be proven to exist.
They could do a lot more, then. Kabbu always told him how much he wanted to be an explorer. Maybe when he acquired his permit, of which Neo had no doubt he would, they could go together to the library tucked into the Ant Kingdom Palace, and Neo could watch as the beetle scurried from bookcase to bookcase, shelf to shelf, scanning and pouring over every title. And they could finally form that book club.
One sunny afternoon in Defiant Root, as sunny as they all were, Neo was on his way to redeem the time today that he’d dedicated towards Kabbu. Under his arms, he gripped tightly onto a book, a copy of one that the two of them had discussed just yesterday, Kabbu inquiring enthusiastically if Neo possessed it. He had told the beetle he wasn’t sure, but really, he just wanted to surprise him. Neo was quite looking forward to seeing the beetle’s eyes light up when he presented him with it.
Eventually, Neo reached the front door to Isau’s. He took in a deep breath of the dry desert air, before gently pushing the door open, ringing a bell above. There was Isau, behind her front desk, as always.
“Hey, Isau!” he greeted her. He would have waved, if his arms weren’t preoccupied.
Isau looked up at him. He’d only noticed just now that she had been looking down. “Oh…hello, professor,” she reciprocated. “Good to see you.”
Was something wrong? Something felt wrong. Why did she seem so…pensive? “Good to see you, too!” He let go of the book with one arm to show it to her. “I brought this to surprise him with. How…how is he today?” Neo inquired, wearing a smile, hoping naively that it might influence Isau’s answer.
Isau stared off behind him for one moment. “He’s very…reserved, today. He hasn’t said much, and when he has, he’s quiet.”
Quiet? But he usually had such a booming voice! No one ever misheard Kabbu. What could be causing him to go so silent?
Neo’s antennae teetered downwards. “Is he in pain?”
Isau shook her head softly. “He hasn’t told me he is. And I don’t believe he is. I redressed his wounds this morning, and they still appear to be healing as they should.”
The professor began prudently. “Is it still okay if I…?”
Isau smiled as best she could, though it appeared tinged with sadness. “Perhaps seeing you would brighten him up,” she suggested. “It always seems to.”
Neo retook the book with both arms. “Yeah,” he nodded, decisively, “yeah!”
The doctor stepped over to pull back the curtain that led to his room. She gave a little glance inside, before focusing back onto Neo. “Best wishes,” she tried to smile again.
“Thank you,” Neo returned, as he headed inside.
The curtain shut behind him.
He wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he came in here. He hadn’t expected to see Isau like that, either, so by now he had learned on the fly to expect the unexpected.
Kabbu was standing. Staring, more accurately. Out the lone window within the room.
Regrettably, when there’s no one there with you, there’s not much to do in the recovery room besides resting by either sitting or lying down, or peering out the window. Evidently, Kabbu had chosen the latter.
Neo should’ve known that it was just Kabbu growing more anxious with being stuck. Maybe later he would try and convince Isau to let him go out for a bit, even if supervised. It might be better than letting him wax uneasier by the second here.
He watched the beetle, just for a moment. Kabbu never once peeked elsewhere, let alone moved. The covers on his bed laid messy, which was unusual, because every other day that Kabbu had been mobile, he had made his own bed neat and orderly.
“Hey Kabbu!” he waved shyly, greeting him with as much warmth as he could.
At the sound of his voice, Kabbu turned leadenly around, finally taking his gaze off the window. “N-Neo!” he uttered, “hello!” His eyes upturned, just slightly, just a bit, and not fully, but enough for Neo to notice.
That wasn’t really quiet, but it wasn’t as loud as he used to be.
Neo tried not to think about that, for now. All he should be focused on was trying to make Kabbu’s day. “I brought you a little something!” Neo continued, holding out his gift.
Kabbu trudged over to him gingerly, but his eyes did, in fact, light up when he saw what Neo was holding, though not as bright as Neo remembered. “So you did have it!” he murmured, gently clutching the book, “Bug Rangers: The Adventure Begins volume six! The one where the Green Ranger is rescued in the wastelands by the mysterious figure! One of my favorites!”
If Neo knew Kabbu, then he was about to flip through all the pages rapidly while recounting memories and praises just as fast, but instead Kabbu pushed past Neolith, and placed the book onto the nightstand beside his bed. “Thank you, Neo,” he offered graciously, “I’ll be sure to read it tonight when I’m resting.”
While the two of them did very much agree that reading was magical and could take you many places, they still couldn’t literally transport you. Perhaps Kabbu was just aching that badly to actually go somewhere else that not even a book would do right now. “You’re welcome,” Neo tittered.
The sun was shining in through the window, illuminating the whole room, gracing it with some much needed embellishment. Neo took the time to study Kabbu from afar, his bandages and such. He still had the one wrapped around the bottom of his horn. There were a few left on his arms, a couple on his legs, one on his right antennae that camouflaged itself well. All of those were lingering, but Neo did find that he’d lost a few since yesterday.
“How are you feeling?” Neo asked the all-important question.
Kabbu’s eyes suddenly dimmed. “I’m…” he glanced down, “I’m fine.”
He didn’t sound too sure of himself. “Kabbu, are you sure?” Neo quizzed.
The beetle nodded, though noticeably lacking in vigor. “Yes,” he attempted to assure, “my body feels fine. Great, even! I…I could go and put a few bandits in their place.”
Despite the bandages and pestering injuries, Neo didn’t really doubt that. Kabbu always seemed so determined, Neo did believe that the beetle could power through most anything, even in his current state. Still, he was not about to recommend that Kabbu do that. As…uneventful as it may be, he needed the rest, and he had most certainly earned it.
“That’s…that’s good!” Neo smiled fragilely.
Still, Kabbu couldn’t bring his gaze up to him. “...Yes,” he huffed, in a manner charged with exasperation that blew away any notion that he truly meant it, “I suppose it is.”
Neo’s already brittle smile fell to the floor, shattered into a thousand pieces. What…what was that supposed to mean?
Kabbu’s head whipped upward, then, and Neo thought it to be the fastest he had seen him move all day. His eyes shrunk, in what almost looked like sterling, unalloyed fear. “I! I mean…!” What was left of his eyes searched frantically around the room for words he must’ve misplaced, and they settled on the window again. “It’s…it’s fantastic!” he employed, his head now facing Neo, but his eyes facing elsewhere.
Neo was not going to be convinced anymore. “Kabbu…Kabbu, you…”
There came a moment.
The beetle’s head went down, following after his eyes. “Neo, you…you should go. I’m sure you have much more important matters to attend to.”
“No,” Neo shot down, almost angrily, “I don't.”
He didn’t like the way it came out, he did not care for the tone nor the inflection. In this moment he only cared for Kabbu, and neither of those things were helping care for him. But he was confused, so confused, and he couldn’t just read or study to understand this, and he was embedded with a splinter of frustration because of that, and most of all he was worried, so, so worried, and he felt so hurt on Kabbu’s behalf.
Kabbu’s head turned to look at him, but he said nothing.
This was completely unlike Kabbu. Never had Neo known him to appear so bogged down, downtrodden and run-down, not even when Neo had first found him in the desert. Even then, once he regained his consciousness, he had tried his hardest and his best to speak to Neo as clearly and concisely as he could, even if many of his words came out in a flurry of slurry, and much of what he was saying didn’t make most sense. Even when he had been bedridden, he had never been so…vulnerable.
There came an inkling that perhaps Neo should just go. Leave him be. Maybe he was just making things worse for him. But Neo found that he did not want to leave him alone, even if Isau was just behind the curtain, and he felt such a need to prevent Kabbu from being alone, and he did not know exactly why.
“Kabbu…” Neo approached, taking a step towards him.
Kabbu took an alarmed step back, almost bumping into his nightstand, like a skittish and panic-stricken aphid.
Neo froze.
“...Kabbu?” he whimpered, his antennae wilting like a flower deprived of sunlight.
The beetle looked behind him, before turning back and covering his eyes with his claws, shielding his face. “Neo, please…” he quivered, “I don’t want you to…”
Neo went back.
“I’m sorry,” the beetle snivelled, “I’m sorry, Neo…”
Neo knew, already, that Kabbu often apologized for things that barely had anything to do with him, and things that remotely had nothing to do with him. He said sorry for keeping Neo so late, he said sorry for intruding on his studies, he had even once said sorry for interrupting Neo’s field research that fateful day. Neo, naturally, had soothed him every time. Said he was fine, he was okay, it wasn’t his fault, it was nothing to worry about. Evidently he had been worrying. More than mere worrying. Postulating.
“I’m sorry, Neo…” Kabbu sniffled from behind his mask, “I…I want you to leave me, but I don’t want you to go…”
Neo had already decided that he was not going to leave him.
“And I…” he cautiously let one of his claws down, allowing an eye to see, waning to the lone window again. He never finished what he was going to say. Instead he fell onto his bed, crawling across it and scattering the already scrambled sheets, until he reached the side of it that faced the window, grunting periodically. He sat.
Neo stood, paralyzed, in the corner of the room. He so badly wanted to join Kabbu. He did not know if Kabbu wanted him there.
Kabbu moved his head to check behind him, but his eyes never focused on the spot which his head did. Neo, hesitantly, took it as permission.
He shuffled across the room, towards the beetle’s hiding spot, watching to see how he reacted. He wasn't able to identify much, because Kabbu kept his head down, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He stared down at them like they had grown on him overnight, or he was ashamed of having them.
As his approach reached its apex, he caught a glimpse of Kabbu’s eyes, still glazed with a covering of what Neo could only try to pin down as fear and anguish and anxiousness. He faintly sat down, next to him, as unintrusive and unobtrusive as he could, trying to be soundless so as not to unnerve him more than he already had.
Neo’s head turned to look at him. Kabbu’s echoed, continuing to stare at himself.
He appeared as if trying to roll himself into a protective ball. He was curling, melting, solidifying into himself. Like something was near him, lurking, something wanted him, prowling, something was stalking him, sensing. There was no dirt for him to burrow underneath.
Whatever he was feeling, whatever he was hiding from, Kabbu didn't object to Neo’s presence. His eyes never shifted.
Neo took his claw. Kabbu winced.
Now that the two of them were as close to each other as they had been all day, Neo noticed that Kabbu had uncovered, undressed, fully exposed wounds, ones that he and Isau and well, everyone, must have somehow missed. He would have to let Isau know about them. What was most peculiar was that many of them seemed to be reaggravated, still weeping slowly and gradually from their stations.
He did not like the sight.
Neo felt like he should say something. He wanted to say something. Something that could help him, something that would help him, something that would miraculously heal all of Kabbu’s wounds all at once and renew his spirit and get him back to the venerable bug he barely even really knew and still had grown to cherish.
He did, however, still care for, and still loved, this vulnerable version of Kabbu, too. In fact, he cared deeply about it. He cared deeply about him. Which is why he tried so hard to find those magic words. He’d read all about supposed ancient spoken spells, ones that could almost render what he was looking for, but they all ran through his mind in a jumbled, garbled mess, and it didn't matter because none of them would work anyway, and maybe they never had worked at all, and maybe he was just wasting time reading up on them at all.
His well of words had run dry.
Neo had no magic tricks up his wings, to assist poor Kabbu. He was going to have to take matters into his own claws.
He didn't work with magic, anyway. He worked with facts, and sometimes magic was a part of facts. But the fact of this matter was that Kabbu needed his help.
Until he conjured up some words, Neo preserved his grasp, making sure that Kabbu knew that, for better or for worse, he was still there with him. Letting him know that he was there for him, that he had someone to lean on and a shoulder to cry on should he so choose.
Kabbu didn't say anything, either, but it was hard for Neo to say he didn't expect that. He wouldn't have expected it any prior day, but he had already learned to adjust his expectations for today. The beetle breathed in, and breathed out, which Neo didn't mind hearing in the slightest bit. Really, it was music to his ears, because Kabbu still being able to perform those two actions was a blessing in itself.
Still, at some point, he’d like to excavate and examine closer to the root of the issue.
The beetle exhaled again, this time while scouting the world beyond his four walls.
“Neo, I…I was telling the truth when I said that I feel fine.”
Neo nodded.
“I only…” he strayed off, sustaining his look. “I…I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”
Surely he just meant this room. Surely perhaps he meant Defiant Root as a whole. Yes, he did. Neo didn’t want to think about any alternatives, and dwelling on them was no good when they weren’t true.
“I…I can’t do anything here but think. Think about it all, about everything. It’s so…hard, Neo. It…it hurts so much.”
Neo squeezed his claw, gently. Kabbu winced.
“Would telling me help the pain?” the moth asked of him. He’d always had an inherit, nagging curiosity, something he never ‘grew out of’ from when he was young. Oftentimes, in those younger days, he would end up breaking whatever it was he was so inquisitive about. Nowadays, that was something he had grown out of, as you can’t afford to be careless with relics of time.
He was doubly, triply, even infinitely more careful when he was handling thoughts and feelings. Especially if they were entrusted to him by Kabbu.
Kabbu did not answer his question, but he did answer. “Everything I could’ve done differently so as to not end up here,” he replied, almost bitterly, glaring through at the world. “One little decision, one big decision, something that could’ve changed who would be here right now.”
Neo wasn’t stupid. There was more to this than he was letting on. But Neo didn’t want to follow the trail he was leaving, pull on the thread he had been tugging just yet unless he was given explicit permission.
Kabbu hadn't once told Neo the whole story of how he ended up in the Lost Sands. Or, any of the story, really. All Neo really knew is that he had started from the North, and the Swamplands had taken a major toll on him, which was something that everyone who had ever gone to that place was familiar with. You might as well have to pay when you enter and exit that place, because it well and truly taxed you.
But, other than that, Neo didn't have many clues. It was as if then perhaps he truly had fallen from the sky.
He made sure their claws stayed together. “Do you want to keep going?” he offered, extending an understanding gaze either which way. He held Kabbu’s feelings so close to his chest, cupped in his claws like they were the last drops of water in an endless desert, ensuring that they would never, ever be dropped and evaporated.
Still Kabbu did not look at him. “I always do,” he muttered under his breath, mournfully. “I can never stop myself. I wish I could. Sometimes I think about why I am this way. About how I got to this point. How I…let myself get to this point.” Still, the window. “How I allowed it, how I let everything slip past me, slip away, without even making so much as moving a muscle in an attempt to stop it from doing so.”
Just as the river was flowing, suddenly it struck a wall. “Sometimes, I…” and he gasped, a messy intake of air that appeared to nearly make him retch.
Neo instinctively patted him on the back. “Kabbu?”
Still, the window.
“Kabbu?”
Now, the floor. “I…”
One claw connected with his, one claw stayed on his back, now motionless.
“What is it, Kabbu?”
Still, the floor. “N-no,” he mustered, his voice flickering like the dying moments of a fire, “I can't…I mustn't…” By now his eyes had extinguished nearly to the point of invisibility, a pitch-black void devoid of joy, swallowing up the light of the star.
Neo outstretched another gaze, trying so hard to get him to look at him. His antennae sagged like shriveled petals, his own eyes were on the cusp of tears, lapping against his last line of defense. It was like being endlessly, relentlessly pricked and prodded by spears, to see Kabbu in this state. “C-can you tell me? Would you like to?”
Kabbu let out a gulping, hiccuping, guttural choke. It didn't suit him one bit. Now, the window, edging towards the sky. “...I suppose I don't have anyone else to tell.”
The moth blinked at him.
“Neo…” Kabbu started and stopped. Still, the window. Now, the side of the room, completely turned away from him, nowhere in his sight, not even his periphery. “Sometimes, I…” he let the flame go again, his voice burning chock full of what sounded like shame. “Sometimes I…I wish you'd never found me.”
Neo’s heart sank. Down to the depths of his body, down to the depths of his soul. Down to where Kabbu apparently wanted to be.
It bounced between sticks and stones on the way down, shattering into a thousand, million pieces, pieces and shards that reflected like a mirror, that could be assembled into a mosaic, displaying and presenting his devastated heart like a windowpane does for the world.
The alternatives had been true. He was right for them to encroach upon his mind, he was right to give them the right and light of day. He was right to even hypothesize them, right to even grasp that strand of thought for one singular moment.
It was one of the only times Neo could remember that he wished he wasn’t right about something.
Neo shrunk into himself. “Do…do you really…? Are you upset with me…? Are…are you mad?”
If Kabbu had turned out to be apparently who he thought of himself as, then Neo still wouldn't have regretted saving him. It was the mere act of saving a life that mattered so, never mind who the life belonged to. But the fact that Kabbu was who Neo thought of him as, that being a stand-up, undeniably strong, and unbelievably kind bug, that Neo wanted to do everything in his power to ensure that he was in good graces with him. Perhaps, now moreover, that Kabbu was in good graces with himself.
And even if Kabbu was upset with him, did that make him wrong? Neo didn’t think so.
“No,” Kabbu meekly, weakly shook his head, but it was still powerful enough to quell any doubt. “No. I…I could never be mad at you, Neo.” Still, the wall. “You were only doing…the right thing. I…I had my own right thing to do.” Now, the window. “I merely missed my chance to do it.”
What could that thing be? What chance could Kabbu have missed? Neo found himself half-way in wanting to pry, yet being terrified of what the answer might be.
“I…” Kabbu crackled again, “I…I’m sorry, Neolith. It's not your fault.”
Neo wanted to tell him that it was okay, but he wasn't quite sure if it really was okay, whatever ‘it’ even was.
“I don't know what to do,” Kabbu lamented. Neo felt the same way. “I’ve never known what to do. I don't know where I should go. Where I belong. I know the way forward, but I don't want to be the one who takes it. I…I shouldn't be the one who takes it.”
Still, the wall.
As much as Neo could not even begin to hypothesize a solution or even an answer to this, any and all of this, he still knew he wanted, needed to do something. “If…if you’d want me to…I would like to help you find your way.”
Once again he wished he could figure this all out. It was his job to figure things out, wasn't it? His career? Yet things were often so much easier to figure out than feelings, and the things he worked with and in were often unsolvable until a future discovery or a future technology, and even then they still weren't as complex and layered as feelings.
Now, the floor. Neo guessed that it was the closest Kabbu could bring himself to looking at him. In the glimpse of the beetle’s face that he was able to obtain, he saw no semblance of resentment within his clouded eyes. Only despair in pairs. That didn’t exactly make him feel better.
“I…I might like that,” Kabbu exhaled, hefting his breath in a way that sounded like he had to remind himself to do so. “If anyone knows what they're doing, it's surely you.”
Neo tittered, but only just, and only sadly. It was nice that Kabbu still had access to his ever present bag of compliments for others, even in this state, but Neo was waiting for when he would pull out compliments for himself.
“But…you mustn't,” Kabbu sighed piecemeal, as if he himself was disappointed in his answer, “time is so…precious. You shouldn’t spend yours on…me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Neo decided to challenge him.
Kabbu went as silent as the sand.
“Kabbu?” Neo beseeched again.
“You have so much else you could do, so much else you could work on, all of it matters so much more than I,” Kabbu finally responded, mercifully, “why?” He shuttered into himself, whimpering, covering his face again, blotting out what little glow he had left, “why me?”
Neo nearly looked out the window, perhaps naively wondering if it held some sort of answers, which was part of the reason Kabbu kept a watchful eye on it. But he focused on his subject. “Be…because,” he wiped the words off, stopping for a moment because maybe they wouldn’t work or wouldn’t fit, “because I’m grateful that I was there in the desert that night. Not the night before, not the night after, but that one, special night. I will always be grateful that I found you.”
One claw still on his back, one claw now on his drooping leg.
Neo well and truly was grateful. All Kabbu had ever done was inject his life with a much needed supernova of joy and something new to look forward to every day. He’d enjoyed every moment he’d ever spent with him, because life itself was in a different color with him, like his eyes had been tinted by a filter that renewed everything and made everything extraordinary and full of wonder again. And he hoped that Kabbu enjoyed those moments too, even if he was fighting off attacks from all angles.
But he wouldn’t have to fight those battles alone now. From now on Neo would stand by his side. If his head wasn’t right for that, then so be it. He still had a heart to fight with.
If there was anything Neo would wish for, it would be that he could’ve met Kabbu sooner.
Kabbu’s head jerked to the right a bit, as if he wanted to look at Neo by instinct, yet he continued to refrain from doing so. Still, the floor. “Do you really think…?”
“I know,” the moth corrected.
Kabbu had nothing to say.
Neo kept his hold on him.
“You’re too kind,” Kabbu resurfaced with.
“I could say the same for you,” Neo pointed out.
Still, the floor, now silent.
“How can I see what you see in me?”
That was a far more loaded, heavy, deep question. “I can help you to see.”
“I don’t know if I want to.”
“I think that you should.”
Now, the window. “If you think so, then maybe…”
A step in the right direction. The right path. The way forward.
Kabbu took Neo’s claw in his, all on his own, all by his own volition.
“Maybe someday I’ll learn,” he said.
“You will,” Neo promised. He would ensure it.
Kabbu squeezed his claw.
And then the sky that had been seen and the stars that were yet to be seen corroborated and conflated, and the sun poured in from the window, precisely onto where Kabbu was sitting and grieving and holding on to him. It was a fantastical, majestical, awesome blast of light, one that enriched and empowered the hues and shades and texture of every color in the atmosphere, one that vibrated the vibrants and the vivids and the intricacies and the intimacies and so thoroughly shook them through to their sores and their pores and their core that they began to beam through every part of the air and suffused visions of division in such a way that triggered a true realization of what it was like to have such a light in one’s life, and what it was like when that light was stifled and snuffed out.
For that moment in time, when the sun aligned with the star that had fallen from the sky, Kabbu appeared to be glowing.
The green of his chitin gleamed in such a way it was as if photosynthesizing, suddenly gray seemed one of the brightest and liveliest colors in the universe, as if his exoskeleton had fused to silver, and just when his eyes had reached their bleakest, they reappeared to shine and twinkle in brief revered veneration, glimmering through the black depths of his face that pitched like anthracite.
He lit up the room, radiantly, with the green and the gray and black and all the colors that made up life anew, as if the sun or the moon or the whole universe was channeling itself through him.
Neither of them could say anything. The only thing to do was soak it all in, like a plant would.
It didn’t last forever. Nothing did. But though the moment was ephemeral, Neo thought it to be ethereal, and when the sun was blotted out by an invading cloud, evaporating the iridescent incandescence like it had never been prompted at all, there was still something else to see. A silver lining. Wonderful, beautiful, hopeful silver lining.
Neo pondered, in the moment after, had Kabbu ever realized that he himself was silver lined? That he was shinier than a metal could ever be, even if he didn’t believe it? That he proved time and time again, even in limited time, that there was such brightness to be found in life, such hope and feelings of warmth and resilience?
Resilience. That was another word to describe him. To keep shining, even though he was fogged and bogged down by so many clouds. Remarkable resilience.
It occurred to Neo, then, that Kabbu hadn’t smiled for the whole day. He still didn’t. But there was something about Kabbu’s eyes, something new, and not only because they were brighter than they used to be. It was something like a glimmer, a shimmer, maybe a twinkle. Like night had beset the world, and though he was not up above the world so high, he was still like those diamonds in the sky, one that was tangible and real and one you could hold and feel and talk to and comfort and encourage to continue shining, one you could tell how much you loved and lived for their shine.
Someone, not something.
Neo only noticed that, any of that, because he and Kabbu had finally looked into each other’s eyes.
Now, his friend.
His eyes formed the waning beginnings of a crescent, not quite a smile in full, but a smile in part, the stellar remnants of a smile.
Their eyes locked for a moment longer.
Neo was starstruck.
The windows to their souls opened.
Neo peered through Kabbu’s windowpane.
And in that moment, he saw a battered, weary soul. A soul that had been stomped on, trampled, stampeded, left to rot away in the sand.
But it was a battered, weary soul that had not rotted away. It was a soul that had been dug up, picked up, dusted off with a brush, one that could stand on its own with strength and vigor and resilience and remarkability now that it was being steered onto the path of healing, and in time, the way forward.
“Neo…”
Kabbu spread his arms, wrapping them around Neolith, before whispering so softly and so gently and so delicately and so brightly.
“...Thank you…”
Neo hoped that the ending to that trio of words, the ending that was left unsaid, was “for saving me”, but he didn’t and might never know. All he could do was hope.
Hope is a dangerous thing. It dares you to trust, it dares you to put all your faith into something, something that may end or never come to fruition or turn out far from the way you expected it to.
But hope is beautiful, too. Because hope dares you to trust, it dares you to put all your faith into something, something that may shine a beam of light into a dark world, something that becomes all you’ve ever hoped it to be and maybe even more, something or someone that is a highlight of your every day, making each day of the year.
To hope is to take a risk. But Neo fervently believed that he was taking no risk when he told himself that he believed in Kabbu, believed in him to continue the great things he was doing and believed in him to recover from all his scars and strife and believed in him to achieve greater things in the not so distant future.
Neo hoped that Kabbu knew he believed in him. And if he didn't know, that someday, he’d get him to realize. And perhaps, more importantly, someday Neo would find a way to get Kabbu to believe in himself. To get in good graces with himself.
Still, his friend.
One claw hugging him, the other doing the same.
“Neo…” Kabbu said his name again, now able to address him fully and completely, “I’ve…I’ve been told once or twice that it’s always darkest before dawn. It must be true, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Neo was happy to be right, and he smiled, “it always is, Kabbu. It always is.”
And though far away from his companions, the star would shine once more.